It's been a long time since I've written. Mostly just because I don't want to write about what's been going on. But I guess it's time...
In January of this year, my dad was rediagnosed with Mantle Cell Lymphoma. He'd had a stem cell transplant the year before, but it didn't work. The cancer was back, stage IV. At the end of April, he was struggling very much. He'd been in and out of the hospital since his rediagnosis and had found out the cancer was spreading. His primary oncologist said there was no use in continuing treatments for the cancer. All they could do was treat the symptoms.
On April 28, 2012, his secondary oncologist sat down with my mom and I and said that he only had a few days to a couple of weeks left... At the most 2 weeks. We were devastated. We started spending even more time at the hospital with him. On the 2nd of May my mother, father, and I all met with the funeral director (at the funeral home my dad chose) for my dad to plan his own funeral. It was one of the most difficult things I've ever had to sit through.
That Friday, May 4th, my father was released from the hospital to come home with hospice care. The next day, my nephew's 9th birthday, my friend Toviah, who's a photographer, came to my parent's house to take pictures for us. That would be my father's last good day.
The next couple of days, my dad was in pretty good spirits. His sisters came to visit, as did his friends from work. I was still going to work, telling my mother to call me if anything happened. On Tuesday, the hospice nurse came for the first visit. He decided my dad should put his oxygen on. It never came back off.
On Wednesday, before I got home from work, my fiance and my mom were there with my father. My dad tried to get up to go use the bathroom. He fell out of bed. Thank God my fiance was there and my dad's friend Randy had just arrived. The two of them put him back to bed. The next day, Thursday, he tried to get up again. He fell out of bed once more. My mom, sister, and I could not get him up. So the rescue squad was called and they picked him up and put him back in bed. He wouldn't get up again.
When I got home from work that evening, I went back to visit my dad. He wanted water, but couldn't drink with a straw because his mouth was so dry. After spooning a few mouthfuls of water into his mouth, he was able to use the straw. The next morning, I woke up and went back to see him. (I was staying at my parent's house so I would be close in case something happened.) He was thirsty. So I spooned a couple of drops of water into his mouth and then put the straw in. He couldn't use it. He had deteriorated to the point where he could no longer use a straw. I spooned him more water then left him alone to sleep.
I immediately called my boss and told her I wouldn't be in that day. It was 9:15 AM on Friday, May 11, 2012. I decided that I would quickly go take care of a pressing errand and spend the rest of the day with my family. So I left the house at 9:30ish. I had gotten about 5 minutes away when my sister called, telling me to come back immediately. I turned around as quickly as I could and went back. I arrived there at 9:43.
My mom was sitting next to my dad on their bed. My sister was on his other side. I sat by his feet. My mom was hugging him, my sister holding one hand. I grabbed the other. I felt like ice. I told my dad I was there. He said, "Plug me in! Plug me in!" referring to his oxygen. It was plugged in. My mom got up and turned it as high as it would go. He could feel it then.
We knew the end was close. We knew it was coming. And it was very peaceful for him, surrounded by his family. We told him we loved him. Then, after telling my mother he loved her, he was gone. It was 9:50.
My mother and I broke down in tears, knowing he was gone. We spent a few minutes sitting with him, crying. Then we knew the phone calls had to be made.
I'll write about the funeral and my engagement later, as well as all the details of my upcoming wedding. But for now, I want to talk about my dad.
He was literally the greatest person I've ever known. I'm not just saying that because he's gone. My dad was my hero. He was strong and tough and yet sensitive and friendly. He would help anyone, anytime, anywhere. He loved to laugh and tell jokes. He protected us and took care of us. And he faced his cancer with unwavering faith. He fought as hard as he could against the cancer ravaging his body. According to his doctors, most people with the type of cancer he had only lived 18 months after their first diagnosis. He lived almost 3 years because he refused to give in to it. He died still fighting to live.
I loved my dad very much. I will never forget him. Every day is hard to get through. Planning a wedding knowing my father will not be there to walk me down the aisle... That he won't be there for the father/daughter dance... It's hard. In fact, a lot of the wedding has been planned around his absence. I'm not a whole person without him. I cry pretty much daily because I miss him so much.
