I don't know where to begin. Writing about cancer in the family is a hard thing to do. Its not something a 21 year old should ever be writing about but here I am. 1 am on a Saturday night. Most college students would still be out in bars getting drunk and having fun. But I am not most college students, and I think its beneficial for me to tell this story. So bear with me as I try to tell this narrative under the influence of a bottle of 40 Olde English 800 and a swisher and the remaining effects of a 12 oz. can of Redbull.
This semester, I only have 1 class on Fridays. So I went about as usual, got home around 11 am, had lunch and took a nap. I was awoken at 3 pm. My mom called. She sounded strange. I could tell immediately something wasn't right. She asked me to come home. And I thought to myself, my dad isn't doing well. So I asked what was wrong with my Dad. She said the doctor will no longer treat my dad and recommended treatment from a hospice. Hospice. Wait. Did she say what I think she did? Hospice. (To be honest, I didn't t know what a hospice was up until 2 months ago. I watched a show called Wilfred and one episode took place at a Hospice.) That word alone sunk my spirit. What the fuck? So that means the doctors have given up; my dad's cancer has finally gotten to the point of no return. Before we continue my thoughts on this fucked up situation, lets back up a bit.
Lets see. Let's go back to sometime in 2012. My memory is very hazy and my parents really didn't let me in on the details so I'll try my best to draw a map of what happened so to speak. Bear with me.
I don't recall exactly when but my dad began experiencing pains in his lower back. They began as discomfort. He liked to take naps on the couch so at the time we thought it was because he slept on the soft couch all the time. As time went on, things began to get worse. The discomfort became pretty bad and so he went to get checked out at a clinic. The doctor did some tests (I don't remember what) and she said everything came out normal. So we didn't think much of it. We also thought it was nothing and let things kind of go to the back of our minds. But then things really didn't feel right. My dad did a series of tests and whatever and in mid February of 2013, my dad was diagnosed with late stage stomach cancer. I don't know how he handled the news but clearly, he was a bit depressed. He started chemo soon after. Before he was diagnosed with cancer, he was a full time teacher at Whitney Young. That was also the high school that I attended. Not soon after the Chemo started, he started teaching part time. Chemo was going well, and he responded well to the treatments. After several months, the tumor seemed stable. A very good sign. Things were going well up until 2 months ago.
All of a sudden, things just went to shit. Keep in mind that to me, the details are murky, and I was having a hard time myself so I couldn't remember too much. My dad had 12 -13 rounds of chemo before the cancer became resistant. Then it was time to switch to another type of drug. I guess my dad took 3-4 rounds before things took a turn for the worst. One day I called my mom and asked how my dad was doing. She said my dad had a bile duct blockage and he got jaundice. He had to stop chemo for 5 weeks. Due to the sudden stop, the caner started back up with a vengeance. At the time of his diagnosis, there were signs that the tumor have metastasis. This time it was a lot worse than we had thought. It had spread to his digestive tract. When I went home during Thanksgiving break, It was evident the cancer was extremely tolling on his body. He lost weight. A significant amount since I last saw him. And 3 weeks later during winter break, he was in even worse shape. He had stopped teaching altogether a month and a half back. He lost even more weight and just very skinny. He started taking morphine for pain. He couldn't sleep at night and ate very little. The pain kept him up at night so he was lethargic during the day time and stayed upstairs in his bedroom most of the day. He would get visitors now and then and tried his best to seem energetic around guests. But after they left, he was exhausted and went back to sleep. This was his life for the pervious 2 months.
Today I came home for the weekend. I never thought the situation would become so dire so quick. So when my Mom called me this afternoon, I got on facebook and asked if anyone was going back to Chicago. No response. I am a very impatient person and I knew I wasn't gonna get a ride home. So I bought an Amtrak ticket as soon as I could. I left Illinois Terminal around 7pm and by the time I got home it was 10:45 ish. Some church friends were over and so was our Pastor. I said hi but wanted to see my dad first. I went up stairs to my parents bedroom. What I saw almost brought me to tears. But I held it in because I didn't want my dad seeing me cry. He was bald. Bedridden with an IV attached to his arm. I gave him a hug and we talked for 15 minutes. I think this might be one of the first times he's ever said he loved me explicitly. I was touched. Now before we continue here, you (the readers) should know some backstory.
My dad isn't my biological father. He is my step dad. Yes, my mom got a divorce and remarried in China when I was very young. My relationship with my step dad is complicated. Lets just say we didn't get along and I was a bad child. I mean he must have felt somewhat salty because he didn't have any children with my mom and had to care for an ungrateful asshole of an child (me). My dad and my mom used to cuss me out alot and I developed a rebelliousness unseen by them. They used to say I was probably one of the worst children in church. Thank goodness no one knew that side of me. Even though he disliked me and my attitude, he always cared for me. He used to wake up at night and check to see if I kicked off my covers and tucked me in after I fell asleep. Over the years, we had lots of ups and downs. Mainly downs. We got into arguments and I think he hit me only once over the years. Our family was a war zone. It was fucking unbearable. I hated him sometimes. Whatever, enough of the bad stuff. I don't know if it was the cancer or God, but over the past few years, his attitude changed. Even though he was still critical of some of the things I did, we slowly warmed up to each other. Over Thanksgiving break, he actually seemed very friendly and open to me. Our old relationship completely disappeared. We actually communicated as a father and son should. He told me his expectations and I agreed. He told me I should focus on my studies and after graduating, I should come back to Chicago so I can take care of my mom. That I should find a girlfriend and get married after college. I could have the house that we live in now as long as I can support it. It was like he was telling me his will. I found what he said to be justifiable and agreed. And today, he actually said he loved me and he regrets how he treated me and my mom. I told him all is forgiven. As a Christian (well, despite my foul language), God has forgive us and so I forgive my dad. I kissed him on the cheek and said its alright. I'm a grown ass dude now, and as a man, I should not be petty and forgiveness is pretty much standard for Christians. He again told me that I should take more responsibility and take care of our family and my mom. He said his strength is failing and wont last long. He apologetically said he won't be able to make my graduation, wedding, and he regrets that he will not be able to see any grandchildren. Upon hearing this, I became instantly depressed. That shit hit me like a train. But I just replied with "Ums" and nods. I held his hands as we spoke and gave him one more hug. I wanted him to get some rest and I haven't eaten since 1 pm. It was 11:30 pm now.
After I went downstairs, I had a quick word with my Pastor. He told me he baptized my dad earlier with a bit of water. I said "PRAISE THE LORD". This was good news. I felt a bit relieved. He told me everyone in Church was supportive and praying. I was happy to hear this. I knew my dad was surrounded by caring friends and especially his students. I would like to thank everyone who partook in the #luostrong movement and the students who started it. They sold merchandise and raised a lot of money for my dad. They are part of the reason why he had the strength to fight for so long. Many times, I felt bad. On facebook, I noticed everything they did for my dad. I knew about the fundraisers, gifts, and visitations. As a son, I felt good, but also horrible. I was rarely at home due to school, and even when I was at home, I seldom spoke to my dad. Even though he has changed, I guess everything I experienced when I was younger hardened my heart. It felt weird. It was like I didn't want to open up to my dad. I tried really hard to hold back my emotions. I felt heartless and cold. I don't know what became of me. But I guess today I finally softened up. I willingly opened to my dad but my heart still needs work. I am still somewhat rigid and stone faced. It hurts me a lot to see my dad suffer so but I still try not to show too much emotion besides an awkward smile now and then.
Currently, I have hard times falling asleep at night. I'll be lucky to fall asleep in 45 mins. It usually takes me an hour. I don't want to sound morbid but every night I think about the worst case scenario and how it would play out. What would happen when my dad finally goes to heaven? As horrible as it sounds, this is pretty much the thought that crosses my mind every night. All I see in my dreams are me and my mom and everyone else dressed in black. She is is crying along with many others. My dad lies in a casket, looking peaceful. When someone is in the same condition as my dad, maybe God should just take them home.
Cancer is torture. It tortures the person's mind, body, and soul. It tortures his family. Its one of the most fucked up things God ever put on earth. It hurt my mom very badly having to see my dad suffer. It hurts me too. Right now Im feeling a mixed emotion of rage and sadness. I don't know what to do but keep to my self. People have reached out to me yet I am reluctant to accept their offer. One part of me feel wishes I had a girl friend to talk to, to go to her, cry as she holds me. But Im single and thats not gonna happen. And I keep thinking I cannot cry, I cannot express my frustration in such a way because well, my dad isn't gone yet and it would be unmanly. Another part of me feels very angry and destructive. I want to cuss up a storm (if I'm not already) and breaking anything in sight. I want to curse the doctors. The fucked up healthcare system. Even God. I feel like God has forsaken my family. My dad. Me. As a Christian, I shouldn't think ill of God. I shouldn't swear. I shouldn't do the things I do and doubt God. But in this situation, I don't know what to think or do. I guess I need to work on my faith more. I guess I should pray more. But that doesn't change the fact that my dad is dying. It doesn't change how fucked up cancer is. My dad isn't even 50. He is too young to go to heaven, but if God calls, he has to go. If God calls, everyone has to go. One thing I have learned is not to ever take family members for granted. No matter how hard it is, you need to settle your differences and make up. Don't take the time with your family for granted. Don't take any family members for granted. I guess God used this cancer to teach us a lesson. I don't know. Nothing else justifies this right now. Don't be like me. Don't wait until such a fucked up thing happens in your family to make you realize how precious your family members are. Especially your mom or dad. Think of it this way, our moms and dads are the main pillars of our family. If one of them collapses, it puts significant strain on the other. Unless you can take the load off your remaining parent, things are not going to be good. I'm just scared if my dad does go to heaven, how will my mom manage? How will she age? How will she do alone when I'm at school for one more year? These are the questions that bombards my brain every, hence my difficulty sleeping.
At the end of the day, all I can do is pray. I am not as worried since my dad is now a baptized christian. I know things are going to get even harder from now on, but I must stay strong for my mom and especially my dad. I promised him I would take care of my mom if he leaves us. That I have grown up and I can carry on his will. That I am a capable person that he raised. That I will graduate college, find a job, find a wife, an have some kids. I will try my hardest to take some pressure off my mom and support the family as soon as I get out of college. I want my dad to know that I love him and that he can rest in peace should the day come. Until that day, I will constantly pray, please Lord, give him the strength to fight another day.
No comments:
Post a Comment