Dad went into the hospital again. Thursday night he spiked a fever and was completely out of it again. I went with mom to the ER and stayed there until around …hm. That’s a good question. It seems lately my brain is overloaded. He stayed there til Monday afternoon getting IV antibiotics, fluids, tests and such. Turns out he was just sick from the chemo and had some sort of infection brewing from the port insertion, but sick none the less.
All of this keeps me on pins and needles. I jump to get every phone call when I’m at home or my cell when I’m out. It’s been 5 and a half months since his diagnosis, and I still don’t think I have completely come to terms with the whole ordeal. I try to spend time with him, but it hurts so much, seeing him get thinner and more tired. I need to put my heart aside for now and spend more time while I have it. Each milestone that should be happy is hovered over…what if it is the last Easter, birthday, or anniversary. But I need to make more of an effort or I will desperately regret it.
We try to make the best of what we have, that’s how our parents raised us:
* to be humble and understanding
* to be a friend to all those in need
* to make the best out of even the very worst situation
* to celebrate our lives and loves
* be thankful for our accomplishments
* to grow our character into wonderful, loving caring adults
* to try to make a difference in the lives of those around us
I look at my sister and I see how lucky I am to be blessed with such an amazing, loving caring family. My sister and her husband have beautiful lives and beautiful children. They are successful and caring, everything that we had growing up. My mother is the most amazing mother anyone could ask for and has put up with a lot from me over the years and still loves me just the same…and I love her with my whole heart and soul, she’s my very best friend. Dad loves her with his whole heart, even now, after 40 years. And it’s so bittersweet because every day I wonder if I’ll be able to accomplish anything important before he’s gone, so that maybe I could find comfort in knowing that I’m not a total disappointment to him. I’m almost 30 and still rent a house, no husband, no children, still working on my degree. (pity party, table for one?) I wish I had time to do all the things I wanted to do with him. Hear all his jokes one more time. Have him walk me down the isle, and hold my first baby. It’s a terrible thought that my children might never know how amazing a man he truly is, or how much we laugh alike, or how much he will love them and spoil them.
I thought at some point I would come to terms with this illness, or that maybe he’d be the 1% that beat it and I’d have him here forever. Give me time to show him the loving, caring adult that I’m still becoming. Lately time does not seem to be on our side. There is still no cure; the cancer and the chemo are slowly eating him away. Each time he goes back into the hospital for one reason or another, it reminds me that it’s going to get a lot worse and I have to keep a stiff upper lip and my chin up and be strong for him and my family.
