4/21/10 - The Boy

The Boy is having a hard time. He’s spent the last couple of weeks throwing magnum force meltdown temper tantrums. He’s been full of anger and not at all responding to redirection well. Essentially, for lack of other more politically correct parenting terms, he’s been freaking out. And it just keeps getting worse. Until he had the mother of all meltdowns last night. My husband and I were up with him until almost 9:30pm (we typically put both kids to bed at 7pm). He spent most of that time crying, screaming, kicking, slamming his head into the wall and throwing things. He would not listen to me or his dad, he would not calm down. He was totally lost in this gigantic emotional outburst. We finally just left him in his room and told him to let us know when he was ready to talk. After another almost hour of crying and screaming he asked us to come in and talk to him. And after another almost 30 minutes of unintelligible mumbling we finally got out of him that he was just really mad and sad that his papa was going to die.

Ah. Ok. Here we go.

I’m actually surprised it took this long to surface. I was surprised with how well he took the conversation my dad had with both the kids. But there was also a sneaky suspicion boiling that he in fact did not take it well at all and was instead just stuffing all the emotions the news brought up with him. That he was hoping that keeping perpetually busy, running like a wild child with his friends that maybe the news would just go away. And then I told him that his sister and I were going back to Nana and Papa’s next week and it was all downhill from there.

He had another meltdown at school today which ended with the school calling me three times to give me updates on how he was doing.

I’m worried about him. And I don’t know how to help him. I think all I can do right now is love him and make sure he knows that he is not alone.

Strawberry Pie

My Dad used to take me back to Nebraska to visit family almost every summer. Then when I was old enough, my parents would put me on a plane to go for a longer visit by myself. It was something I really looked forward to every year. My cousin M and I would lie in the sun on the grass outside my grandma’s apartment (read: get burnt to a crisp and eaten alive by chiggers). We’d walk along the railroad tracks talking about life in the big city and small town. We’d go swimming at the little town pool. We’d use our entire summer allowance to buy an obscene amount of fireworks. We’d use whatever was left over for candy and ice cream. We’d hop from aunt’s house to aunt’s house for BBQ’s and family get-togethers. We’d always make at least one shopping trip into Lincoln that would end with dinner at Valentino’s (they had dessert pizza!). We’d make one longer pilgrimage to Omaha to see Aunt S and do more shopping. It was always a trip full of fun activities and me being a big city girl, exploring small town life and being absolutely enthralled with it (although not always well versed in the do’s and don’ts of small town life, like the time when my grandmother completely blew a gasket over me sitting on the curb on main street watching the teenagers cruise on a Friday night – how was I to know it wasn’t lady like?).

But one of my most favorite memories is that my grandma always, always made me strawberry pie. She knew it was my favorite and she always made sure she had a pie waiting for me upon my arrival. And I’ve been searching for the perfect strawberry pie recipe ever since, without success. But recently my Aunt J sent me several strawberry pie recipes that she found in my grandma’s recipes, so I’m trying the one that sounds like I remember tasting today and I cannot wait.

I cannot wait to see the looks on my children’s faces upon their first bite. And I cannot wait for the flood of memories that will come with my first bite.

The Things That Go Unwritten

Why is it that there’re so many things nobody writes or talks about? Especially in regards to life changing events. After I had The Boy I remember making a long list about all the things that none of the books or my friends told me about pregnancy, child birth and motherhood. The same thing with marriage. And now, I’m finding it holds true with watching someone you love die as well.

There’s so much written about the grieving process. About the fear and the sadness and the guilt and the other well documented emotions that are typically found camped out around death. There’s less written about the process of watching someone die. But it’s still there. The process of watching the body shut down and everything that goes with that. There’s even a little bit written about how hard it is to watch someone you love diminish, decline, disintegrate, deteriorate and every other “d” word having to do with the state that occurs when one’s body betrays them and starts shutting down from the inside out.

But so far, I’ve not found much written about the horrors of the mind that come along through all of these processes. And there is so much bandying about in my mind that I just cannot hold onto anymore.

I cannot hold onto the images that float, unbidden, into my mind of my dad slowly mummifying from the inside out because his organs are giving up. The horrifically detailed pictures I have of his liver and lungs and heart slowly petrifying and then turning to dust as he wonders how to control the pain.

I cannot hold onto the guilt of wondering when my part in all of this will be done. When do I get to stop taking care of my parents?

I cannot hold onto the idea that this is all my job. That I have to be everything to everyone every time. Can I put down something down without that person or activity thinking I no longer care?

These are the things that make me feel alone. But like my Dad’s not the first dad to die of cancer, I have to know that I’m not.

4/8/10 - Seafood and Recap

My mom has been trying to do something nice for me. And I keep thwarting her efforts. Mostly because what she’s been trying to do requires the expenditure of money that’s just not necessary. But regardless, she’s starting to get irritated with me I think. So she’s taking me and the kids to dinner tonight. At Red Lobster. I’ve been craving seafood for weeks and it’s the only seafood restaurant in town so off we go.

My Dad had a doctor’s appointment today with his main doc to debrief and reassess after last weekend’s debacle as well as the doc being out of town for the last two and half weeks. The doc was irritated that everything was handled the way it was and was also irritated that his prescription of a gout medication made everyone assume that my Dad had been diagnosed with gout. I kind of wanted to tell him to either get over himself or else write better diagnostic notes in the file. But he’s also endeavored to mess about with my Dad’s meds, so we’ll see how it goes. He’s taking my Dad off the blood thinners so that he can switch him to anti inflammatories and is switching his pain med to a slow release pain patch instead of the every 4 hours morphine he had been on. I’m worried about taking him off the blood thinners as that opens him up to risks of heart attack and stroke. But hopefully the benefits outweigh the risks. And the doc said we’d know the benefits fairly soon, so if they don’t outweigh, then he’ll go back to the blood thinners. It’s all such experimentation at this stage, which I find utterly infuriating. I mean, my dad has to pay the price of his comfort so that the docs can figure all of this out, in a case that is not unique that they’ve all seen so many times before and still can’t get right. And when my Dad has little more than his comfort left, I tend to get my hackles raised when they start messing with it.

So I’m keeping my fingers crossed and looking forward to scallops this evening.

4/7/10 - Books, Books, Books

After finishing my last book, I decided some brain candy was in order. My Dad pretty much only reads mysteries and since I have been meaning to increase my knowledge in the mystery realm, I jumped on the huge pile of books he had recommended this week. The weather has been lovely, so the kids have been running wild outside, leaving me more time than I’ve had in a long time to just read.

I started off easily with Robert B. Parker. I’ve read three of his book so far and they are pretty much the definition of brain candy. He’s the dictionary definition of formulaic, but his characters are still funny and witty even if the story itself is lacking a bit. His stories are really about the characters that he creates. What I found myself really liking about him was his dialogue. But I finished every book wanting more. More from the story, more from the characters.

So I delved into a Stuart Woods book next and promptly fell in love with it. There’s just so much more depth to everything about the book. It was centered on one character that my Dad has said he has a series with named Holly Barker. And she is a badass, incredibly smart woman. The story itself kept me guessing, had more of the dark and dirtier elements that I wanted and most importantly, it gave me a big payoff in the end. I’m definitely going to pick up more of Stuart Woods in the future.

Lastly was Michael Connelly. He had been recommended to me a while ago by friends when I was originally looking for mystery novels. Specifically his Harry Bosch books, so I picked up a couple of those to begin with. His stories are by far the darkest I’ve read so far. And I really like the main character. The one book of his that I read without Bosch in it I was not as impressed with. It was uneven and I never really cared about the main character much.

It’s been a fun foray into the mystery realm. And I’m excited to branch out and see what else is out there.

4/4/10 - Happy Easter!

Oh yeah, that’s right, it’s Easter. Happy Easter! I had almost totally forgotten about it. It’s just such a holiday that’s not on my radar really. I’m not religious so it holds little personal meaning for me in that respect and it always creeps up on me. More so this year than most given everything else that’s going on. My mom sent me to the grocery store yesterday (yes, on a Saturday, again, and the Saturday before Easter, so not a good idea) to restock the fridge and get a few things for the kids for an Easter egg hunt this morning. This morning still arrived as a bit of a shock.

My Mom had taken The Boy outside to enjoy the gorgeous morning while I set up the indoor egg hunt and strategically placed their bigger Easter gifts. The Girl woke up lat morning after falling back asleep on the couch and came to me with an egg in hand saying “What this?” She caught on quickly though as she kicked off the hunt with a good head start on her brother. They had a good time.

Dad got up after the hunt was over and was still not doing well, so Mom called the new on call hospice nurse to request a home visit today. Dad moved as little as possible and read the paper. The Girl played with her new Barbie princess and horse and The Boy begged my Mom shamelessly to get started on his new medieval castle herb garden which would require painting. It was a normal Sunday morning except for the pain and discomfort etched across my Dad’s face.

But my Dad has gotten better as the day has gone on, The Girl seems to be fever free although her cough has evolved into a nasty wet thing that needs little provocation, The Boy had a grand time painting and planting his indoor garden. The hospice nurse arrived and took a thorough account of my Dad ending with a long talk about pain management and a declaration that the gout med should be utterly discontinued.

Now it’s on to dinner and sneaking the ears off the kids’ chocolate bunnies.

4/3/10 - Not a Good Day

My Dad’s doctors decided to start monkeying with his meds and now he is paying a high price for their experimentation. It’s so easy to blame them for his discomfort. It’s so easy to point fingers, especially at hospice, and demand that it be fixed. Because to watch my Dad suffer like he has today is by far the most horrible part yet of this whole process. My Dad has had increasing swelling and pain in his joints, particularly his elbow, knee and ankle joints. After some blood work it was decided that he had gout. Over the past week or so his pain and swelling has been getting really bad and they decided to up the gout medication they had him on. Worst. Decision. Ever.

He could hardly walk today. He was shaking so badly he couldn’t hold a water glass. He was in intense pain and his stomach was screwed beyond belief. He spent most of the day in bed. I spent most of the day shooing the children outside or into my mom’s yoga studio to play and watch TV just to get them out of the house. And worrying. There was lots and lots of worrying.

The Girl is not any better and I knew I should take her far away from my Dad, especially given his sudden turn for the worse. But I could not leave him like this. So I’m staying and keeping my fingers crossed that I don’t compound this by giving him her sickness.

My Mom has been on the phone off and on with the on call hospice nurse all day in amidst sitting with my Dad and getting him to drink as much as possible as they think the shaking and chills are coming from dehydration. I’ve been sitting at the kitchen table mostly, feeling helpless. And feeling that I maybe don’t want to be around for this part. As awful as that confession makes me feel and sound, I don’t know if I can sit and watch him suffer like this as the end draws nearer. And I don’t know if there’s room at his bedside for more than one. I just don’t know.

3/29/10 - Caretaker

I’m a caretaker. I always have been. For as long as I can remember I am always the first to wonder if someone is ok if I see them hurting, no matter if I know them or not. I latch onto babies because I know that they need to be taken care of. I’m just a care taker. Which is a good thing considering the rigors my children have put me through. If I weren’t a natural born care taker, they’d be hurtin’ kiddos right about now. There was a part of me that thought once upon a time that being a caretaker made me weak in some way. That the act of caretaking surrendered my power to the person I was taking care of; that by putting myself at their disposal that I was somehow expressing codependence instead of the inherent strength it takes to honestly put someone else before yourself.

Now I know that was all bullshit of course. I embrace my caretaking abilities on a daily basis. And it turns out to be an extraordinarily good thing when you have one parent have a massive heart attack one day, move in with you to recuperate for 3 weeks another day and then six months later have the other parent diagnosed with end stage lung cancer.

So here I am, taking care of my Dad. By cooking all of his favorite food for him while he still has an appetite and wants to eat. By doing things around the house to make his life easier. By helping to keep track of meds and new symptoms to tell the hospice nurse. All of these everyday things that seem so simple but are the best way I know how to take care of him right now. Because all of these things still allow me to be his daughter whilst doing them. Despite my caretaking proclivities, I have no desire to morph into a full time nurse to my father. I just want to be his daughter. Love him as his daughter. Support him as his daughter. It’s a delicate balance to strike to be sure. But I hope I’m at least in its general vicinity.

3/25/10 - Gentle Day

I got to meet my Dad’s hospice nurse today. I’d talked to her on the phone a few weeks ago, but it was nice to put a face with the name. She’s super sweet and genuinely seems to like my Dad and vice versa. It was interesting to watch them talk and see everything that she keeps track of. I really had no idea what to expect. But she took all his vitals, counted out his meds to see what needed to be re-ordered and talked to him for quite a while about his pain levels and just in general how he was doing. It was nice to watch someone with him whose entire reason for being here was to support him. To do anything and everything she could to make and keep him comfortable and see that his needs were being met. There was no distraction or agenda; she was fully and completely here with him while she was here. It made me happy to see and it was also nice to get an objective evaluation of how he is doing. Because it’s really easy to get dragged down into the daily pill monitoring, the ever vigilant watching of his every wince and sigh, wondering when his body will finish this betrayal it has perpetuated upon him and everyone who loves him. It’s easy to allow yourself to sink into the drama and trauma of the whole thing, to lose perspective. So a dose of objectivity does wonders for tempering what the mind will talk you into.

And I think if I can pry The Girl out of her favorite princess nightgown, that will one day soon be permanently melded to her skin, I might take the kiddos into town for a little treat this afternoon since Dad is taking a nap and I’d like to get them away from the TV. I’ve spent the majority of the day making my Mom CD’s, catching up on writing and writing Easter/thank you cards to The Sisters and my cousin D for their lovely trip here. It’s been a nice easy day. The sun is out, the wind isn’t blowing. It feels like a gentle day.

3/23/10 - Gratitude for Acceptance

What a lovely day. My Mom took the kids for some good old fashioned Nana/grandchildren quality time and I spent the day with my Dad. I had to follow him into town so that he could drop his truck off to get the brakes fixed (finally!). But mostly we just spent the day alternately chatting and reading. We talked about all sorts of stuff from fluffy chitchat stuff to how the kids were doing with the new knowledge of his impending death to how he was doing with his impending death. It was such a lovely day. And it was a day that I could not have had with him even a month ago.

I think I had to go away for a couple of months to do my own work. To trudge through the deep anger I had. To make peace with the denial and fear of facing my life and the world without my Dad. Now I am able to sit with him, as his daughter, and talk or just be in silence. And I cannot tell you what that means to me. After 33 years, there is finally peace in our relationship. There is understanding, love and acceptance for who we both are and what we had to experience to get here. I mean, I’ve always been a Daddy’s girl. Even when I was so angry at him I could hardly see straight, I was a Daddy’s girl. But through the internal work we have both done over the past couple of months, our relationship has reached a new level.

There is a tremendous amount of freedom in this acceptance. Freedom to cry at the beauty of his life and all that he’s given. Freedom to celebrate this man who played such a gigantic role in shaping who I am and who my children are. Freedom to laugh as things arise regardless of how irreverent or inappropriate that laughter may be and because we’d both rather laugh than cry. And while I would do almost anything to be able to take this revelation far into the future with my Dad, I plan on making every single second I have with him count.

3/22/10 - Isolation

The Sisters (and cousin) headed back to the airport this morning. And I was once more thrust into my least favorite thing about being at my parents’ house. The isolation. They don’t have any internet access at all, often lose phone service due to wind/rain/general crappy weather conditions and I’m at least 30 minutes from any semblance of civilization. At least civilization that does not include the savagely overpriced convenience stores meant for tourists that are but a short car jog from my parents’ house.

I mean, it’s nice for the kids. They love being able to be in the middle of nowhere. Able to run freely, scream without limits and discover new bugs, sticks and other sundry valuables. And for them, I love it here. And for my Dad, as this is where his true spirit resides. In the rocks and bluffs, in the scrub brush and cottonwood trees, and above all else, in the river. But I deeply value my daily connections with people, even when those connections are often only online. I miss the odd wave and hello with our neighbors. I miss the sweet phone calls from friends just calling to check in. I miss IM’ing with friends I hardly ever get to see. I just miss the connections. When I’m here keeping up with those connections not only is inconvenient, it also feels wholly selfish for some reason. Perhaps because I have to take such a large chunk of time away from my Dad to go into town to touch base with those connections. Perhaps because I have to continually hush my children in the library while I’m checking in with those connections. Perhaps because it is selfish. But at the same time I feel like I have to be able to give myself permission to be selfish in this way, because it is these connections who have helped me find my way away from the anger and denial and into acceptance. So that I can be here with my Dad and truly just be here, in whatever capacity he needs me. And that is, truly, such a gift. Perhaps what feels selfish is just me taking care of me.

3/21/10 - Solace in Baking

I went cooking and baking crazy today. I was all twitchy today because my dad took my children for a walk to tell them he was dying. He and I had talked about the best way to break it to them, to start that conversation with them. I mean, I had started the general death conversation with The Boy already, but had not applied any of that to my Dad as of yet. And today, my Dad did exactly that.

The Girl took it all in stride of course. I think she’s still close enough to that other side for it not to frighten her or make her feel like she’ll be really losing anything. The Boy, however, had a rough afternoon. I wish more than anything that my husband had been here because The Boy latched onto my cousin D (him being the only other man here besides my Dad) and took him into a conversation I’m not at all sure D was prepared for, especially with a kid he had known for about 2 days. But they both did great. I just watched from the kitchen door in between mixing, measuring and chopping.

It was not an easy thing for my Dad either, but he did a beautiful job with it and was able to hold it together for his grandchildren. I am pretty sure I would not have been able to do that. In fact, I was not able to really hold it together much so I buried my face in lemon bars and angel food cake cookies. Potato Salad and Cole Slaw. I have never been so grateful to have such a hoard to feed with all the family here.

Thankfully tonight Aunt T set down with Dad for another round of interrogation that ended with the best story yet of how my Dad talked his high school biology teacher into letting him perform surgical procedures on a rat, namely removing one of its kidneys. Which he then had to take home for the summer as his personal charge. He hid the animal in the garage only to be summoned one day by my Grandma’s ear splitting scream. Best. Story. Ever.

3/20/10 - Let the Storytelling Begin

My Aunt T and Aunt S spent about three hours interviewing my dad tonight while my Aunt J videotaped the whole thing. So many stories and memories now forever committed to the teeny, tiny DVD in our video camera. She asked him about everything from childhood memories, to fly fishing, to how many times he actually got in trouble with his mom and dad, to his best field foraging exploits. Stories dating back to the very beginning of my Dad’s memories. Inciting laughter and jeers from his sisters he held us all captive as he rolled from one story to the next, urged on by Aunt T’s questions and prodding. It was such a lovely evening. I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed as much as I have tonight and all through the day.

I adore these women and I cannot put into words how grateful I am that they are here. I have two Aunt S’s, bookending these siblings. I’ve never really gotten to know the oldest, she’s 4 years older than my dad and never really went out of her way to be nice to me. So unless I was thrown into the same room with her, I just sort of ignored her. But today I’ve spent more time talking to her than the rest of my life put together. And she’s really funny and smart and sweet. She and my dad really renewed their relationship before my Grandma died. Aunt S runs the nursing home that my Grandma was in and my dad, being the second oldest, really stayed in close contact with her to help make decisions and such. And it’s been nice to see that relationship in action. There’s a really wonderful mutual respect there on top of all the shared history and brother/sister foundations. And it’s been fun to hear snippets of the family history from before my dad’s memory as well. Interesting to hear stories from a different perspective, from the first born.

And it’s given me some nice insight as well to see what stories my aunts want to hear versus the stories I’ve been asking for. It’s just such a gift to have them here.

3/19/10 - Sisters in the House!

My Dad’s five sisters and my cousin arrived today. This is an event that everyone has been a bit nervous about I think. For just about every reason you can think of. Families always have baggage, no matter their size, but this one has about as much as its size can carry. I think at the core of the worry is that that baggage will outweigh the fact that they are family. And it’s a worthwhile worry, to be honest. But one I hope can get set aside. And so far it has been, thank goodness.

I scraped together some homemade chicken noodle soup for everyone after they arrived and even though it took everyone awhile to find their conversational footing, I think it’s all going to work out just fine. For my part, I cannot even begin to put into words how lovely it was to see all of them. Except for Aunt T, I haven’t seen the rest of them since Grandma’s funeral, which was five years ago. And so much has happened for everyone since then. Some of them have become grandmothers for the first time, some for the second or third. My cousin has gotten married. Some have changed jobs or moved or had other big life changes. And there is simply the passage of time for us all.

Even though these women were not always home and comfort for me, they are now. There was a time when my Grandmother had to force these women to be nice to me under her fury. But over the years, we’ve all softened to each other and realized the depth of our family is stronger than any misled and misguided grudge that may have existed once upon a time. Which is a good thing. Because if ever there was a time to come together, it’s now. In the face of my father’s, and their oldest brother’s, death. Now is the time for telling stories, remembering growing up together in the countryside of Nebraska, loved so very dearly by two amazing parents.

And I’ll be cooking my ass off, so at least I’ll be busy should things go to hell and a hand basket.

Going with the Flow

Day three of fever watch with The Girl. Yeah, I’m done with it now. She woke up at about 2am last night throwing up and her fever had started to soar. So my husband spent the rest of the night on the floor of her bedroom while I tossed and turned, convinced that every single noise was her seizing or throwing up.

Her temperature has continued to volley around, keeping us all on our toes. The Girl goes from relatively cool one minute and almost back to herself to screaming hot and listless the next. And more than anything that’s what has me worried. Because it’s the rapid rise of fever that causes febrile seizures, not necessarily how high it goes. And her fever is all over the place, rising and falling pretty rapidly. When The Boy had this it only lasted about 24 hours, so I thought we’d definitely be in the clear with The Girl by yesterday afternoon. Not so much apparently.

So, now I’m tired and still no closer to getting down to NM. I’m so scared that by the time we finally get down there that my dad won’t be my kids’ Papa anymore. He’ll be just a physical shell of the man they adore and look up to. I don’t want them to remember him that way, frail and dissipated. I want The Boy to remember tying flies and learning about nature. I want The Girl to remember reading stories and seeing the beauty of the desert through her Papa’s eyes. And perhaps I’m over-reacting, but the picture my mom has painted of my dad’s current state is not a pretty one. Even if it does change on a daily basis.

So I suppose this post is more of a vent than anything purposeful. I’m tired and scared and frustrated. I’m doing my best to just go with the flow and be as present as possible. I’m just tired of feeling like the flow is always going against me. That me going with the flow actually means just accepting that life is just hard right now. That the flow means learning to accept the fear and anger in the present.

3/6/10 - Anger

I think that anger takes two basic forms. Those which are situational, the “I can’t believe you just did that to me!” types of anger. More like bursts of fury. They fade relatively quickly and usually don’t have much to do with anything except the offending person or thing.

Then there is the anger that is rooted in who we are. Rooted somewhere deep enough that it can’t be so easily let go of or dismissed. Rooted somewhere solid enough that it takes years maybe even a lifetime to be able to put it down and direct our energy into something more positive.

And I’ve been going round and round with the latter as of late. There is this anger that is rooted in my childhood. That is connected to my parents and that has been flying in my face as of late in response to the fact that my father is dying and everything that comes with that. You would think that the hardest part would be the issues related directly to my dad. Those that come from the fact that he was gone for a lot of my early childhood. Those that come from the fact that he’s not an emotionally ebullient man and always left me guessing as to my place in his heart. Those that come from the fact that he had exceptionally high expectations for me that I struggled, and often failed, to meet.

But instead, and probably harder than all of those combined, the anger that is arising is with my mother. Perhaps that’s because she’ll still be here and is therefore the safer candidate at which to vent anger. Or perhaps, losing my father is just opening the floodgates to that deeply seated anger that has been dormant for so long. I don’t know. What I do know is that it’s making it extremely difficult for me and my mom right now. And I’ve yet to find the words to explain it all to her without her feeling like I’m just attacking her. And if I want to one day be able to truly let go of this anger, I must first find a way to express it.

Gratitude

So it appears that awe re staying put for now. Of course that could change tomorrow. But for now, we’re staying here, at least until spring break rolls around. Although my mom has tried mightily, I think my Aunt T is leaving tomorrow and will then be back the same time we are, with all the sisters in tow. I think the family reunion could be a really wonderful thing for my dad and all of his siblings (his brother excluded who cannot come). It will give them all a chance to be together for the first time since my grandmother died and it will be the first time that they’ve all come together without her as impetus. I think it will be a really good thing. Once we get through the awkward silences and dancing around the fact that their brother is dying. But I will be there and so will Aunt T, so between the two of us, we should be able to keep the atmosphere pretty positive I think.

My dad had a good day today. It looks like the upswing finally found him, for which I am grateful. He was not in good shape a few days ago. The oxygen was delivered today and he actually said he was going to give it a try and see if it made any difference in how he felt. His hospice nurse has said that she’d like to see him on it all the time. A lack of oxygen can cause all sorts of troublesome things in addition to shortness of breath. So he agreed to give it a try. I was flabbergasted in the best possible way. It was really good to talk to him today, he sounded good again. Like my dad. Funny and chatty. Which actually made me want to get in the car even more. Because it’s those days I really don’t want to miss. It’s those days that I really don’t want the kids to miss.

But at this point I’m grateful to be able to share them with him in any way I can. We’re just taking it one day at a time. Today was a good day.

2/28/10 - A Little of This and That

I’m making myself get into a semi-upright position to write this today. I think that’s about all I can muster though. It seems like I’m doing pretty good through the weekdays. Because I know that I have no choice. I have to be on the ball and on time because I have no backup and no time to just check out. But on the weekends? That’s a different story. The past two weeks, I’ve just totally checked out come Saturday. I figure if that's the worst of it, that I foist upon my family, having me disappear a bit on the weekends, then I’m doing pretty good.

Yesterday, I took a three hour nap. I never take naps. Today I found a Karate Kid marathon and I’ve glued myself to the couch to watch every single moment of it. I wish it was on just about any other channel than ABC Family so that I didn’t have to watch commercials for the silly tween shows they are so proud of.

On a non-TV note, I’m about ¾ of the way through Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman and I love it. His writing reminds me a bit of Christopher Moore, only not quite as verbose and colorful. Although I think I’ve discovered that I should have read American Gods first, but oh well. I still need to finish Dandelion Wine as well; I got a bit distracted and needed something slightly less brain intensive for the moment. But I’ll get back to it.

And I still haven’t finished my story for last week. I’ve got to get on that sucker; it’s starting to haunt me now. Actually it’s not. That’s the problem.

My dad is about the same as yesterday. My mom said he had another spell of not being able to breathe, but it wasn’t as bad as the one on Thursday night. They are going to start having someone from hospice come out almost daily. Alternating days between an aide and a nurse to help out around the house as well as to keep tabs on his health. Thank goodness, but I still think we’ll be heading down there in the next weather window.

2/27/10 - To Be Expected

We’re still in CO. My dad has slept about 34 of the last 48 hours. I think it is getting to the point where it just takes so much energy for him to be awake and ambulatory. I know, rationally, that this is to be expected. And I know that this is another step downhill. Dad, mom and Aunt T all tell me that he seems to be doing a bit better today. But every time I talk to him, he’s still gasping for breath. Rationally, I know that this too is to be expected. He has lung cancer, having trouble breathing is definitely to be expected. It’s just pretty brutal to hear.

I was talking to my Aunt T the other day about all of my dad’s sisters coming to visit around Easter and I told her that she should prepare them because how he is now is going to be hard for them to reconcile against the big brother they’ve always known. I know it’s going to be hard for even me to reconcile because it’s been a month since I’ve seen him. He’s always been the robust, outdoorsy kind of guy. He does yard chores because he likes to be outside and working with his hands. He loves to see the effect his effort has on his environment. And he has a profound love and respect for nature. All of these things have always been evident in his physicality. But now, that is dwindling. A little at a time. With his strength, his vitality is also shrinking. So far, that may be the hardest thing for me to see. Watching his sheer physical presence dwindle.

I think, perhaps, that even if he does manage to rally after this jaunt downhill, that the kids and I will head down there soon. I find myself thinking about the time just flying by and then it sinks in that this will by my dad’s last February on earth. And the thought that I’m missing that, that my children are missing that, makes me unbearably sad.

I know I can’t bring my dad the peace he needs, but perhaps I can find some of my own.

Dad

“I don’t want to scare you, but…”

That was how my mom started our conversation when she called last night at 9:30pm to tell me Dad had just had an hour long spell of not being able to breathe. At one point she thought she had lost him. My immediate thought was that I should grab the children, pour their sleeping bodies into the car and drive like a bat out of hell to NM post haste. It didn’t scare me necessarily, but it did put me into ready to rock and roll mode. I slept with the phone by our bed last night (if you could call it sleeping) and got up early hoping my mom would call early to give me an update. Which she did. Dad slept fairly well once he got settled in last night.

My Aunt T flew in this morning and Dad was still sleeping when my mom left for the airport. He slept until nearly 10am and then took a 3 ½ hour nap at about noon. So he's been asleep for most of the day. Both times I talked to him he sounded awful. Like gasping for breath awful. And again, it made me want to just jump in the car with nothing but my tooth brush and children and get there as fast as I could.

But he’s had really bad days before and then rallied. So I’m trying to stay out of panic mode while simultaneously making plans for how to get out of here as quickly as possible if need be. The last time I called the hospice nurse had just arrived, so I gave Dad instructions for someone to call me when she leaves with a full report.

Once we decided that we probably would not be leaving today, I took The Girl out for a day of fun. We met some friends for lunch and played then went and got ice cream just the two of us (sshh, don’t tell her brother). Came home and sat out in the sun (sun!) and talked with some neighbor friends. It was good day, even if part of me is still on pins and needles.