November 24, 2008 (Second Installment) -- "What a phone call, huh?"

My mom called back. She was in tears again. I couldn't understand her. After a few minutes of listening to her sob, she managed to say "They can do nothing. Surgery isn't an option". Evidently the obstruction is caused directly by the growing tumors -- not from complications to the chemo. The doctors reviewed some scans and listened to his abdomen. It isn't good news. The doctors advice was to gather the family and make any arrangements that needed to be made.

The quote in the title of this entry is from my dad. When my mom couldn't talk any more, she handed him the phone. This was the first time I had talked to him since last Wednesday. He was very calm and cool. My dad is a bad liar. If he is angry you can tell, if he is happy you can tell, if he is confused you can tell -- there is very little this man can hide, emotionally. I wouldn't say he was chipper, but I would say he sounded like I hadn't heard in many months. What is going through his mind right now? Is he at peace? Is he looking forward to no more pain? Is he in denial? Am I in denial?

I called my mom's closest friend and spoke with her husband. I called my Aunt Betty (and Uncle Ed). I will call my mom's sister (Regina) and my mom's cousin (Carol) tomorrow (they are both on the East Coast). Although this is horribly inappropriate, I will say it anyway. I think that my Aunt Betty might have been having sex -- she answered the phone on the second ring and was so out of breath. She couldn't talk (even before I told her the news). Gross, I know.

I don't know what to say. We've been told this before (last August when he was admitted with high fevers). That turned out well -- all we needed to do was to keep him hydrated and start up his maintenance medication again. That was 15.5 months ago. My hands are ice cold. My mouth is dry. My face is hot. My stomach is just starting to spin. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do.

Will I make it home in time to say good bye? Will my father, like his father before him, be able to hold on long enough for me to be by his bedside? Will I forever look back upon what transpires over the next several hours and regret not being there for my family?

I am going to call my travel agent and see if I can get an earlier flight out tomorrow or Wednesday at the latest. I have a confirmed flight on Wednesday night for Thanksgiving -- I'm concerned that with the reduction in flights and the holiday travel increased demand will not allow me to get on an earlier flight. AH will help me though. I should go pack a bag.

I am numb.