I'm doing my best to make lemonade (as my blog title would imply), but honestly, I'm having a hard time finding the sugar.
As I think most of you know, I have become my dad's primary daytime caregiver in his greatest time of need. For those of you who don't know, my dad is in now what would appear (and so I've been told by medical professionals) the end stage of Non-Small Cell Lung Cancer (no, he was not a smoker-in fact, he abhors smoke). This is a battle that he started 3 years ago this July (at Stage 4 I might add and originally given 6 months to live). He's been as he always has, strong, stubborn, courageous and vertical up until this past February when disaster struck in the form of an intestinal blockage that landed him at the James Cancer Center in Columbus, Ohio. During his stay he was relegated to a clear liquid diet, not that he was interested in any food really anyway, and ended up losing lots of muscle but gained lots of water (not good). I frequented the hospital (almost daily and all day) to keep him company, check his progress and love on my Papa. After 8 days, he finally was "cleared" and I was allowed to bring him home, but things had changed. Oxygen was a full time must; something that a stubborn and, still in HIS head, healthy man could do without. But boy was he wrong. Quickly we realized that this was not an illness that Dad seemed to be recovering from. Although he had cleared the blockage, he was definitely down for the count. Simple tasks became extremely trying and tiring. The little things that so often we all take for granted being able to do for ourselves had become a 2 person job.
In a way, I relish the fact that my dad bragged and bragged that I give the best showers in the world-thank you Lindley Inn and having a child ;) But in another, knowing that my dad, my rock was counting on me for something so simple (so many things in fact) was devastating. Watching him in so much discomfort, pain and feeling so feeble wasn't for the weak at heart.
And now it's April. Almost 2 full months since I've been taking care of Dad full time. So, with that little (very quick) background on what's been going on, let me get to the meat of this earthly injustice I feel caught smack dab in the middle of: My dad is apparently going to die. Now please understand that I am coming to terms with what is an obvious fact to those of us who speak with Dad's medical professionals and are with him daily. He is still currently on a chemo regimen. His last treatment was this past Tuesday and when he got back home it was straight to bed for 3 days. I've never in my life seen anything so incredibly heartwrenching. It's all I can think about. It's all I do think about. And there's nothing I, or anyone else, can do.
I'm going to keep it at that for now. I apologize as I know you all probably hoped for more uplifting news, but I don't have it. Please refrain from the God or miracle talk-I can't hear it right now. If you're reading this, you probably know me well enough to know that I won't listen to it and it will most likely just upset me more than I already am. Thank you all so much for caring and being my sounding board.
Take care of yourselves.