Today was gorgeous here in Boston, absolutely beautiful, a perfect day for a ride.
Shawn was out on the bike for the entire morning, I was so happy for him. He was productive too, got some errands done and made a couple of social calls to boot.
When he got back, Shawn, Sara, Jake and I all headed over to the beach. Too sunny to stay away. Collected a few treasures and I was satisfied.
Then we headed into Boston. Shawn had his trip into the OR and everything went very well, he was out pretty quickly. The Doc said everything looked great, stretching needed but not nearly as much as last time, the lungs looked great and he would see him in 3 weeks. So I was very pleased with that as well.
O.K. so here I think is why I am up at freakin two o'clock in the morning.
My Father .......is dying and I can't even bear the thought of it. I can't bear the thought of seeing him, wasted away, eaten up by the cancer and ravaged by the "treatments".
He was diagnosed in October and I honestly didn't think he would make it through the holidays.
The primary site was lung but he had mets to his brain, liver, ?lymph nodes in his groin.
He was not symptomatic at the time of diagnosis, well he had a lump on his shoulder, they took an x-ray and well you know the rest. I advised him to enjoy himself, take what he needed for symptom relief and live the rest of his days in relative ease.
I know that sort of advice is easy to give and I don't know if I could do it, you always are going to grasp at whatever hope is there, as if # of days are all that matters.
He pursued aggressive treatment, it is a fine facility by all accounts but the result is the same.
He has been miserably ill ever since due to the side effects of the treatment, not the cancer.
My Father was always a very strong man, not the biggest but definately a tough Bastard, raised in Chelsea, poor, ignorant, joined the Navy at 17, had all of his teeth pulled 6 months later because his family couldn't afford dental care, he worked his ass off for his family and he could do just about anything.
By trade he was a plumber, he retired from the National Park Service, he was also well....anyway
he was a lot of things he was my "Fonzie". Big muscled arms in tight white t-shirts, pack of butts rolled into his sleeve, always under the car tinkering, he taught me how to change the oil and filters when I was 11. We spent countless hours together in the driveway, him on his scoot thingy under the car and me handing him tools, pumping brakes or whatever else I could do...just to be with him.
Even at 60 he was still a certified Forest Fire Fighter, he could run 5 miles with a 30lb pack, he was by all accounts in great shape. Ha.
So here I am now. We have moved into our new place, Shawn has been listed and has had his transplant, he has recovered well and is relatively stable. I have the means. I have no excuse.
I have to go see my Father. The thought fills me with dread and I can feel my chest tighten and I want to hold my breath. I don't want to cry, I don't want to hurt, I don't want to fall apart because I've finally been able to pull myself together (somewhat). Shawn is alive and thriving, that horrible weight and pain is gone from me, he is o.k. so can't I be done with this for awhile?
I feel selfish and childish. I know that everyone has to go through these things and some have many many harsh things in their lives but I just don't want it. Not now, not yet.
Of course I have no choice.
I do try and put a 'spin' on it. I have so much to be grateful for, how dare I complain, there are mothers mourning their children. At least this is the way it is supposed to happen ...parents first right?
It's the middle of the night I am tired. I am eating Breyers Black Rasberry Chocolate Chip ice cream from the container, Ugh. I gotta get some rest
Mellow Me Meds take me away.
*P.S. I haven't seen my Father since last February, when Shawn was deathly ill. He lives in Luray Virginia. We were estranged for close to ten years.
Guilt, guilt, guilt
Rest in Peace Aunt Marybeth
1 year ago