Slither of Hope

I am sitting at Daddy's house right now, watching him sleep. Seems like it is our new norm these days. I, we, miss the days where he was active and more lively. 

Daddy's long detailed medical case in some bullet points. 

- The tumor in the lung has stayed stable and actually shrunk a little bit. 
- The tumor(s) in the liver has spread, there are more "spots" showing. 
- He is yellow. Like very yellow, his eyes, belly, legs, arms, forehead, all yellow. (I am starting to rethink my favorite color) 
- His ankles are very swollen making it difficult to walk. 
- His belly is very swollen and rock hard (he says bloated). 
- He is chronically tired and weak. 
- He was talked into getting a port put in to make his infusions easier, had one infusion with it and is thankful he got it!
- He is tired of being tired. 


I, we, are holding on to hope as he just finished his first cycle (three treatments) of a new, more aggressive chemo. He has a week off this week and then will begin another cycle before they do another scan. 

Last week was really rough. Dad was struggling. It seemed the symptoms were worsening and chemo side effects were uncomfortable. He had no interest in doing anything. He was grumpy, my dad is rarely grumpy. He was frustrated and angry at everything and anything (how dare they make Apple computers). 

I was struggling. I only had interest in doing what dad was doing (three days of three appointments - thankful for work being flexible with my family leave). I wasn't necessarily grumpy but I was sad. Really sad. I was frustrated and angry. 

I don't understand why my daddy has to feel like this. I don't understand why my sister, brother and I have to watch another parent feel so horrible and be so helpless. 

I always think back to Proverbs 3:5 "Trust in the lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding." 

I used to reread this verse to myself when my sister was using, when my mom first got diagnosed with breast cancer, when I had to get brain surgery, when my brother was using, when my mom got sick again, while I took care of my mama and watched her struggle to breathe, when my mama died too young, when my sister and brother were struggling with her death in their own way, when I was worried about my dad being lonely, and now I need to read and reread it... as I am living some deja vu moments as I watch my daddy struggle to do simple life tasks due to cancer.

Lately he spends most of his time in the recliner, her recliner. His belly is "bloated", so was hers. His legs are weak, so were hers. He is tired, so was she. 

I know, I know each sickness is its own, there are no two alike, but I can not help but to compare my feelings watching it all over again. 

I keep trying to decide if it is easier this time or harder. I can't even believe I let myself think that way. Like, "hmmm...was it easier to watch Mama struggle then or Daddy now?" Ugh. But it's hard not to. 

So many things feel the same as I explained above, but so much of it is different. 

When Mama was sick, Daddy was there. He took the brunt of taking care of her. We had an incredible support system and my mom was annoyingly good at staying in contact with everyone and making sure no one felt bad for her. She wanted people around her at all times. Although I spent a whole lot of my time with my mama when she was sick (and always before as well), I was always confident someone was with her and she was in good hands. 

With Daddy its a little different. Mama isn't here. She isn't here to make sure he is fed, to make sure he is comfortable and to make sure he safely walks to the bathroom or gets out of bed. I know we still have the support system, but Daddy doesn't always need someone here. He appreciates all the check-ins, but he doesn't crave it like my mama did. And, it is still a little different as Daddy is able to take care of himself for the most part, but the comfort of knowing someone is there... thats what is missing. 

I have to give Jackson credit. He has stepped up big time in the last week. He moved back home from LBI. He has grocery shopped, done laundry, cooked for Dad and is always checking to make sure he is comfortable. Jackson doesn't get annoyed when I ask him ten times a day if dad ate, how he slept, hows he looking, etc. I am happy he is home. I know Daddy is too. 

I need to remind myself that God is only giving me what I can handle. I know he thinks I am strong, look how much he has given me. I feel like I say this a lot in my writing, but in no way am I looking for pity or even feeling self-pity. I just have so many feelings and emotions and the most productive way for me to organize them is through writing. The tears of any sort (happy, sad, anxious, scared, nervous, frustrated) get old...just ask poor Matt and Dad. 

One of my mom's aunts texted me this morning saying "This is WAY too much for someone your age to have to deal with." Selfishly, I think that too sometimes. 

But then I remind myself, I am not a child. I am not even that young. I am 32 next month. I am an adult. This is life. My mama would agree I think. Does it all stink and seem unfair sometimes, sure. But, I had 29.5 years with the greatest Mama in the whole wide world. I am going on 32 years with the greatest Daddy in the whole wide world. We have had the best of years and my parents became my best friends. Not everyone is that lucky. 

So after a week of more tears than I care to admit, more lack of faith than I care to admit, and more fear than I care to admit, I have decided to find the positivity in it all. Daddy's ankle swelling seems to have subsided a bit this morning/afternoon. He did go to work for an hour or so today. He has a week off of chemo and hopefully it will do its job and he will start to feel more like himself. He has a port, so the next few infusions won't be as painful for him. He joined Jackson and I at the dinner table tonight, only for a couple minutes and only ate a couple bites, but he tried. He is not ready to give up the fight yet. He wants to still be here, and lets be honest, he really just wants to golf again. 

But I also am trying to be at peace with the thought that when it is his time to go (hopefully years from now) he will get to be with Mama again. She will be there with open arms and probably a good ole' "You love me damnit". They really are what people call "relationship goals". 

Sorry Matt, lots to live up to babe! :) 

Anyway, please keep up the prayers and positive thoughts and lets just keep the hope that my Daddy's liver becomes happy again and we can get him back on that golf course. The small little moments of improvement are each a slither of hope..Prayers for more!