July 7, 2007 -- Another week??

I can't believe that it has been a full week since I've posted. I guess that is good news -- as not much has happened. My dad was released from the hospital last Saturday afternoon. He was feeling pretty good -- good energy levels, minimal pain, sleeping OK. The biggest thing he has to contend with right now is the super sensitivity to cold. He has struggled this past week with going anywhere -- the heat has been very high this past week, which in turn means the A/C has been cranked up in the stores/restaurants. It gets to the point where he cannot handle the cold air, and has to go stand outside in the heat while my mom finishes shopping, etc. My mom would always complain that the house was too cold --she would always wear sweatshirts around the house -- and now she is burning up -- and my dad thinks it is just fine.

He went back for chemo on Tuesday, and kept the pump until Thursday. As with the last time he had treatment, he was fine while he had the pump, but as soon as it was removed he became very tired, and seemingly very depressed. He's thrown up once, but all else has been fine. My mom thinks my dad will never get back to work. I really think he needs to get back to a "normal" life-even with modified duties, it will be much better than just sitting around the house. I suggested to my dad that he take the full week off of his chemo treatment, then work the next week -- and based on his history of chemo, he'll be able to work without issues that following week. He's considering it.

I've been thinking how much I'd really like to know how much time my dad has. My biggest fear is that I'll be here when he really starts to slip, and I won't be able to get home in time. I've also been reviewing many articles online regarding grief, obituaries, eulogies, funeral services etc. I think as long as I am working toward goals, checking things off of my list, etc., I don't feel as helpless as I really am. I was just reading about my home town's funeral home, and I became very down. Just reading the brief biographies of the people who work at the funeral home made me very emotional -- my first thought was "I wonder which one of these yahoos will greet us as we walk in".

When my grandpa died a few years ago (mom's dad), everyone "official" made me feel very inadequate - as I wasn't crying all the time, I didn't coordinate the services, I didn't.... I didn't... I didn't.... and then when I did cry at the end of the wake (or the Baptist equivalent), the "officials" made me feel like I was doing the family that was there (my aunt, and cousin) a disservice, because they needed me.

I pride myself on usually knowing how to respond in odd situations -- at least well enough to not cause a scene -- and I guess I don't know how to handle death -- does anyone? I don't think I want to know how to handle it.

I also think about my mortality. I don't have a big family. No siblings. Two cousins (one 2000 miles away, the other 1000 miles away). Once my parents are gone, I really don't see myself ever seeing them again. That means it's just me-- no other family. Maybe that's why my friends mean so much to me, they are the only family I know I'll have forever.

I wonder if my dad had gone in for his "regularly scheduled exams" they would have caught this thing before it had become a death sentence? I don't know what I wish for -- do I wish the test would have saved his life (if this were the case, I would be angry with my dad for not taking care of himself), or do I wish an early test wouldn't have made a difference (which of course makes me very scared and nervous -- what would be the point of testing if it means nothing).

I wonder if we all have a "magic date", and no matter what we do, we're all done when that date comes around. Before this situation I did really believe that we all have a "date", and that's it. If I'm scheduled to die on 6/12/2009 at 7:08am, I'll either slip in the shower, get hit by a bus, be in a plane crash, get shot, or just fall over dead. This was comforting for me before -- now it makes me feel very helpless.

This exhausts me. Thank you all again for the supportive phone calls, texts, emails, hugs, or even the brief "How are things" comments -- truly means a lot.