“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.
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