Cancer. The Great Snatch and Grab.

I didn't pick my words for the year lightly. The Art of Allowing. Grace. I kinda sorta knew I was going to need them.

So many people were so happy to kick 2011 to the curb and I was one of them. I barely got in to 2011 and my father was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer and it just derailed my life. One of the biggest things that I struggled to come to terms with last year was that I was losing one of two people who loved me unconditionally. Other people might say they do or want to, but your parents do. And they are really the only ones. So, when his six months turned into three and he died in May, well my motivation to do much of anything kinda sorta died with him. My migraines notched up, my chronic fatigue kicked in, my fibro went a little crazy, and I think that maybe I lost my mind a little. I didn't want to blog. I really didn't want to get out of bed. I spent more days than not in my pajamas. My mom was lucky to get me on facebook and play games. I found some games that would help with my memory and I decided that was good for me and fun. Mostly I didn't have to think about anything and that was what I wanted most. As luck would have it, I think it did help improve my memory to a point. I still get stuck sometimes, but it is better.

Then I started having balance issues. Then the inner ear diagnosis. And life just felt really hard again. I really should have seen that as the big build up.

Then my aunt and uncle come over for Christmas and she is not doing well. She is in a wheel chair because she is having trouble with her legs. She whispers to me on the side, "Oh Robin, Don't tell anyone because I don't want to ruin the holiday, but I think the cancer really got me this time." I find out she is going in for a PET scan that week. (And when I say "this time" it is only because this extremely tough woman has beaten cancer over and over again.") Well, she was admitted to the hospital before the results of her scan came in. And various teams kept coming in with conflicting news about what they were going to do.

In the end, there wasn't much to do. Once the PET scan results came in the decision was made. I happened to be there when this news was delivered because I was on my way to my therapy appt downtown. There was cancer in her lungs. Fluid in her lungs. The doctor didn't want to say it. Stage 4. It was like all of the oxygen left the room. It had also traveled to her lymph nodes. And all of the pain she was feeling was because it was in her bones. Pretty much all of her bones. She has holes in her bones.

There is something about hearing Stage 4. For me, that day, I was right back in 2011. It was my dad all over again. And I was drowning in it. I suppose it was a good thing that I couldn't stay due to my therapy appt. It game me the opportunity to go and cry through that appt. And then all evening at home.

By the next day, I had some perspective. As terrible as this is for me, and it is bad. I love my aunt. We moved here in 1997 to be closer to her. So, this is a loss for me. However, this is not the loss of a parent. My mom is experiencing the loss of a sister. My uncle is experiencing the loss of a wife. My cousins are losing their mother. While this reminds me of my dad... this is not my dad. Unfortunately, my aunt doesn't have even close to the amount of time my dad had. Yesterday, the doctors are saying ONE WEEK. All of these people are having to mentally adjust to this loss in less than a week. I wasn't ready in three months.

The truth is that I am still not ready. But cancer doesn't wait until you are ready. It just snatches and grabs and all you are left with is a hole in your heart. Last time I drowned in it. This time I really want to find some Grace.

This might not look like grief. It is.

There are certain truths that are becoming self evident to me. We know things theoretically, but we don't really know them until they happen to us. So, there is knowing and there is knowing. For instance, we all know that everyone dies eventually. All of my grandparents have passed. They all lived lived into their 80s. I wish that I could say that they all lived with their minds and bodies intact, but that would not be true. Funny how you often get one or the other, but not both. That was not a ha ha funny, btw. I even had a great grandparent live until I was in my 20s. By the time that each of them went, it was a blessing. They all had senile dementia and didn't know what was what. That is no way to live and I could tell it was frightening not knowing who anyone in their world was. They felt alone and frightened. Every now and then they got a good day and recognized family when they saw you. They might not be able to place exactly who you were in the scheme of things, but they knew you on some level. Those days were rare. When someone passes after years of that, we call it a blessing because it is a blessing for everyone. It has been painful all the way around.

On my dad's side, my aunt died of colon cancer that spread through her body and she was in a lot of pain. Her passing was a blessing simply because it was such a painful way to go. My father's mother had some senile dementia going on and her cancer, by the time they caught it was all through her body. However, they think it started in her colon. Yeah, I think I probably said this before.

For those of you who have been reading this here blog for a while might remember how shocked I was that my dad's memory has shorted out on him so much. This was a discovery that was made in April or so of last year when we went on a family vacation. We were telling stories and such, and my dad just didn't remember stuff. Huge chunks of his memory were just gone. It seemed to be completely random. Other stuff totally intact. If you want to picture his brain like a computer, just imagine a whole bunch of wires pulled out. Those wires represent memories. And they seemed to be pulled out at random. No rhyme. No reason. And no real way for anyone to know what he remembered and what he didn't. For instance, it never occurred to me that he forgot that his sister and mother died of colon cancer, and that he needed to be on top of that. Or that my brother wasn't aware of it and not paying better attention as the person who lives closest to my dad.

Anyway, let's get on with what is. The biopsy came back Stage 4. I think they cat scanned him to determine how far the cancer had spread. Though it could have been an MRI or PET scan. I am really not sure what scanning system they used. His gastric area is laden with cancer. It is all through his colon, into his intestines, and liver. There was a spot on his lung that might or might not be cancer. In any event, with Stage 4 cancer that has spread as much as his spread, they are giving him 4-9 months. It is amazing how great Medicare is when they know that they only have to take care of you for a limited time. They really monkey up everything and are happy to do so. Care with a smile.

Fortunately my brother and sister-in-law just redid their downstairs in anticipation of taking care of her parents. My brother went out Tuesday night to get my dad his hospital bed and table. Thank you Medicare. Hospice has a nurse who will come out twice a week to check on him and make sure he doing well. Help him with anything he needs and make sure he is getting the right amount of pain meds. In a terminal patient they do not worry about addiction. It all about making sure that the patient does not suffer. Hospice also will have an aide come out two days a week. I think that person is there primarily to help him with his hygienic needs. Showering. Shaving. Changing the sheets on his bed. That sort of thing. I will know more once it all gets into a groove. The doctor may come out periodically to check on him, too. The team meets once a month to discuss all of their patients in hospice care, so I imagine everyone tries to be "in the loop."

In about a week, my father will have the better, "permanent," colostomy bag that is easy to replace the bag and has snaps. Right now, it is the biggest thorn in his side. They have to use adhesive tape to keep it in place and it doesn't always hold real well. Blah blah blah. The other problem is that my dad feels gassy whenever he stands up. I think it might be because he has a tumor pressing on a nerve in his colon. They didn't remove any of the tumors and some were fairly sizable. So, every time he stands he feels the need to go to the bathroom, but he can't. It is an uncomfortable pressure. However, in terms of his pain, my brother says he is doing really well. Surprisingly well.

The other thing is that apparently this has been a problem for a long time. Every time he stood up, he felt this pressure, so he walked hunched over, etc. Anyway, he has pretty well lost all of his muscle tone and is down to 135 pounds. He is 6 feet tall. Yeah, everyone in our family is freaking wasting away! My brother is down to 150 and is just as tall as my dad. Of course, the difference is that he is working a manual labor job right now and he is solid muscle. I swear that he has the fastest metabolism in the world! *sigh*

Anyway, I talked to my brother about the best way to manage a visit and suggested that we stay in dad's apartment since he had a full house. He was going to let the apartment go at the end of this month, but was more than willing to pay one more month rent if we came up in March. His house is full to the brim! So, that is what we are doing. I moved all of my doctor's appts to this week. He went over and cleaned up over there this weekend. He is going to get a friend to help him move the "stinky" stuff out before we get there. And mom and I bringing up one inflatable bed to sleep on. She left another inflatable bed at my brother's for when she visits and he will bring that over. So we will each have our own bed and room. We will probably stay for two week or so.

And I am hoping that my brother and my dad talk again about the C-Staten vitamin therapy. One of the things that I hate the most about this whole thing is being so FAR from the situation. I feel like I have to input on anything. No control over anything. It is very frustrating. Perhaps most frustrating of all is that I would like to stay longer than two weeks, and I think that my brother and sister-in-law would be happier if I stayed a week. I could be wrong about that. However, it isn't up to them. Chances are reasonable that this is the last time I will see my dad alive, and I think that if I want to stay right up until March 31, they should encourage me to do so. If the roles were reversed, I would do that for them. But, hey, that's just me.