Nothing Quite Like the Present

“Knowing, may be a blessing, but it’s a difficult blessing to bare at times.”

This was the phrase I said to a acquaintance of mine in the a car ride to smuggle greenery for a certain wedding, as I expressed to her my dad’s cancer diagnosis, and the reason I had returned to Southern California in the first place.  Inevitably I gave her a reader’s digest update on his treatment… 

Nearly a month ago I braced myself for a new update of how chemotherapy was favoring my dad.  Since then, I feel more stable than I did after hearing how six rounds of chemo have favored my dad.  Initially, I was in a fog, and admittedly suppressed the disappointment of the reality of the uncertainty.  It’s not looking promising.    

Back story: when my dad received news of his final diagnosis there were three cancer lumps on his lung; after the first three chemo sessions, doctors determined that the three had indeed gone down in size, but that unexpectedly a new (larger and faster growing) one had developed.  So for chemo sessions 4, 5, and 6 doctors adjusted the chemo according.  Well, much to our dismay, adjusted chemo hadn’t reaped the results any of us had hoped for.

Even though I felt the possibility of the worst on a grim July rainy evening when I heard on a cross country phone call, stage 4; lung cancer; terminal; and 12 months to live, all in the same breath before collapsing in a sorrowful agony, I’m finding there’s really not all that much I can do to prepare myself for this roller coaster of fateful cancer updates.  It still fazes me – deeply.       

With so much at stake at this point my dad asked the doctor, “You told me in July my life expectancy was 12 months at best.  Given the treatment that I’ve gone through, can you reassess the expectancy?”  With so many factors in play, (including the risk of his cancer spreading to other parts of his body, and the fact that cancer is dangerously close to his heart) the the doctor simply shrugged his shoulders.  Not the kind of response to help calm nerves. 

At this point, my dad and mom were given the option to participate in a cancer treatment study.  The risk is, out of the three treatment groups he runs the risk of being in the placebo group; which would effectively do nothing to treat him.  The other option was to continue chemotherapy, which would be more aggressive, and in turn make him increasingly fatigued, in more in pain and extra nauseous; not something any of have an easy time with.  In truth, neither option, nor any option for that matter comes without a weighed emotional effect. 

As it turns out my folks decided in December to continue chemotherapy for my dad at the end of this month.  With time off of treatment that deems my dad exhausted much of the time, he now has a bit more energy to do things he’s always wanted to do.  So him and my mom jetted out for Europe for two weeks, with destinations including Paris, and Rome.  It’s a valuable lesson, as you look at the end of your life, what haven’t you done that you’ve always wanted to. 

Indeed as I’ve confided this roller coaster of sorts to some valued friends they have said to me all the while, but more so since the last update, “take this time to really spend with your dad; you have that time that so many others don’t,” or “clear the air, or talk about things that need closure from your relationship with your dad,” or “write heartfelt letters to your dad – anything that you’ve ever wanted to tell him, but for whatever reason haven’t,” and “get to know your dad better; find out things about his life that you don’t know yet”

Which brings me back to my first statement of this post, “Knowing, may be a blessing, but it’s a difficult blessing to bare at times.”  Am I grateful for this time to spend quality time with my dad; yes.  Does it make the fateful and very possible fate easier; no.  Am I eager to clear the air with my dad on certain issues; sure.  Does it make it watching him suffer under treatment to stretch his life a bit longer easier; not at all.  Do I want to write a heartfelt something to him; definitely!  Do I appreciate seeing my dad overly fatigued and in pain as treatment side effects lingers; hell no!  Nonetheless, I am blessed to have this time to make right with my dad, because the truth is so many others loose someone they love suddenly, without warning, and the grief of should’a would’a could’a often haunts.   

As the continuation of treatment lumes ahead, there’s nothing that is more important than this time, right now.  

Feeling Nostalgic

It’s not often I’m provoked to think of my days since, from a recent flick.  Typically a song might conjure emotions from a significant moment; a picture will incite reminiscing memories from times past; or a long lost friend will rouse me to think of “the good old days.”  But a movie?  Never!   

Some time ago I went to see “The Silver linings Playbook,” starring Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence.  Admittingly, the factor that drew me in was the hunky and charming, blue eyed babe Mr. Cooper – and yes that it appeared to be a classic chick flick!  But after watching the plot I left with a number of thoughts. 

One being Cooper and Lawrence are far too far apart in age to be stage mates.  Two being that I was pleased to see REAL struggle and tragedy in a main stream movie I wasn’t expecting; and to see the personal fight of the two lead roles.  It wasn’t a typical chick flick – yes the guy got the girl in the end – but for the better part there was real ups and downs, and hard struggle, and it wasn’t pretty.  Isn’t that the reality most of us live in too?  Real life struggle!  Then again thou, aside from all that, I felt nostalgic for my once Philadelphia home – as it’s set in the city of brotherly love! 

At the start of the movie there are classic shots of freeway signs and familiar street exits; spans and shots of the center city skyline with its iconic buildings that I often walked by, and all I found myself doing was thinking of my experiences there in the East Coast, in Philly. Riding down 95 to the Sports Complex for a boisterous Phillys game; an iconic Philadelphia pastime!  Taking the El (subway/elevated train that runs east and west through the city) through center city and walking through and past the iconic sky scrapers as I meet friends and go about my appointed rounds, run my errands or seek some clarity as I walk the coble stoned streets. Feeling the chill of the autumn and winter air as the seasons change, as I walk or run the lovely Kelly Drive, or quaint sub neighborhoods was always held promise of a picturesque seasonal site.  It all was coming back to me: the moments, the memories; the people and the places. 

Above all the sites and hot spots of that city, and as I was watching and listening to the actors portray this Philadelphia, I found myself missing the personality of people in Philadelphia the most.

I often will tell people of my time in Philly, and remark how hard edged Philadelphians are; how they’ll just tell it like it is; they’re often and sometimes guarded and difficult to get to know; and sarcasm is common place in conversation.  As I was first being aquatinted to this east coast town, I can recall having somewhat of time adjusting to the sense of people.  People would often tell me, "you’re so Californian; you’re so easy going and friendly."   And I’d intern say, "yea, well how come everyone else around seems so hard to warm up to??"  Into and after my second year living my life in Philly, I found myself establishing some more friends and roots; I hadn’t really stopped to think how these hard edge people had decided that I was alright; I hadn't fully acknowledged this till recently. 

The truth is Philadelphians are real salt of the earth kind of folk; down to earth, loyal and authentic kind of people.  They aren't fake – if they don’t like you, they’re not afraid to make it clear.  They’re honest – sometimes to a fault.  They’re tough to get to know, (real guarded) but if one befriends you, they got your back!  It’s evident they've accepted you when they sarcastically poked fun at you; friendly sarcasm is common place in conversation.     

In many ways – as difficult as it was to get use to initially – it did me a world of good!  Friends in my home turf at times will say I come off abruptly upfront, or abrasive.  Or situations or people don’t get under my skin as much – I’m tougher skinned. 

Besides or despite the fact I know I have some pretty loyal friends back East.  Like my friend Seth mentioned to me over the phone as I was expressing how much I missed my Philadelphian folks, “even though friends move geographically, really, we aren't going anywhere.”  It gives me comfort.  I know it to be true too when another close friend – Chris – and I can be real with each other with how things are – on a day to day basis.  Or when yet another close friend – Colleen – and I can chit chat, gab, and make light heart of life’s tough situations for close to two hours – I know I’m not going very far from their lives & hearts. 

All these memories; all these sites; the people and thoughts cause me to stop and think of what a colorful and exiting life I've lived thus far.  In all, I am appreciative.  And so, as I think of "the good old days," I also think of the good old days before the Philly old days: my time in San Francisco, abroad, and before that even.  The cliché saying rains true: appreciate the moment.  And so, even though I miss my former life elsewhere, I have been welcomed with open arms by many a friends and family alike to this new phase of my life; this new chapter in my life.  In some time, I’m sure I’ll likely look back and reminisce on this time as well.