My dad

It was January 12th. My birthday. It was my dad calling. I was anxious to answer the phone. I knew he would be giving me the news about his biopsy report. I responded with pure joy when he told me it was negative. Pleasantly surprised was an understatement. He had been coughing for a few years we think. He always had an excuse- a cold, something in the air, an infection. Then he went to a doctor. He was told it was reflux. I thought that was reasonable considering he did admit to heartburn. He was working the night shift, not eating the best, certainly not working out, drank caffeine and soda to wake him, and had developed a little belly- all recipes for reflux. Then the blood clot came to his leg. He drove more than an hour to work and back, again, made sense. He had a minor hernia repair surgery- something that would happen to a guy who repaired everything, no matter how heavy, on his own. He later told me he likely developed the hernia from a strong cough, a cough that almost made him pass out while driving. He said the surgeon knew the hernia was caused by the cough and didn’t think much of it. We, my sisters and I, continually prodded for him to go to the doctor. He even started to notice his memory was not the best, again many reasons including high stress being blamed. “They don’t do anything”, he claimed, “they just give me cough medicine.” He got inhalers after lung testing showed asthma. Just once I should have gone with him. And finally, he did go after making sure he was seeing the right provider. Scans and scopes were ordered. And finally, a biopsy right around Christmas time. 

He never smoked though was exposed growing up to second hand smoke. He was in the Navy and worked in Tool and Die most his life. He was strong whether it be with opinions or determination. He made THE best Thanksgiving breakfasts. Was an outstanding grandpa. Would give his life for his family…and did.  

On January 14th, he called me again. They got the results mixed up. Yes, this was happening to my family. A family heavy in the healthcare arena. My father was being diagnosed with lung cancer two days after he was told he didn’t have it. I didn’t miss an appointment after that. The news grew worse each day. It was stage IV. He had a huge lesion in his brain. They were amazed he was so functional. He, my mom, and I went to fill out his disability and Medicare paper work as he made the hard decision to quit work. They were afraid he would seizure so put him on high dose steroid which he hated. Russ on steroids…not good. Decreasing the size of the tumor in his brain took top priority so rather than chemotherapy or synchronous therapy, it was felt that whole brain radiation was the best option. Most options did not reveal a significant difference, all stating survival may be improved by 3-6 months. This WBR was a decision I regret immensely to this day…but not because there was a better decision. I just wish there was a better option. At that point, he was fully functional and we were calling hospice- completely surreal because this did not look like a dead man walking. He started asking “what I wanted”. Yuck. Nothing. You…better. 

The WBR really sucked. Or maybe it was the cancer. Within a few weeks, he developed an ileus. He couldn’t eat. He was hospitalized. After a few days, the doc came in for the tough talk. He didn’t think it was a good idea to continue treatments. We brought him home. I stopped working. I went shopping trying to find anything he seemed to like eating. I remember anytime he would eat something, I went out to get 5 more of what he ate. One day, I bought him kombucha tea. I vividly remember that day. It was all happening so fast and I couldn’t even think. I knew how to keep people well. I got paid to help people get better. I believed medicine worked. I believed holistic therapies worked. But there was my dad dying…and all I could think of was to buy him tea. And the look in his eyes that day, I will sadly so never forget. He hated the taste but had a faithful and hopeful look that I was feeding him a cure because he read the label…“fights cancer”.  He later sat me on the couch and said, “there is going to be a day when nothing works.” He died one week later.

On the April 2oth night before his death, I went home to be with my kids. My sisters and I were giving him 24 hour care and I was “off duty”. I slept in my son’s bed snuggled so tight. In the am, moments before my phone rang to wake me that he had passed, my dad came to me. He was in a beautiful dream with his voice telling me he loved me as I felt the whiskers of his beard press firmly on my cheek with his lips giving me a final kiss. I was thankful for all the time we spent together those last few months but those few seconds will be with me for eternity. 

There is so much more to this synosped story that has gone untold for now. Someday I will piece it all together. One thing I have learned- Grieving is a weird phenomenon. I have always been a private person (though this blog hardly speaks to that) and death pulled me in even more. It is extremely hard to imagine anything going on outside my selfish world when trying to understand what is happening. And even years later, the loss is still lost. 

Andrew and I pray each night to Grandpa. It can be a simple “Hi” to a “I wonder what you are doing” to  “I hope you had a good day”. On his 70th birthday this November 1st, he watched over Jordan shoot his first deer with a bow. He laughed out loud when I veered too close to the mailbox with Todd’s truck scraping up the side hearing him say “you never believed me when I said you were too close”. He is ever present.

A few weeks after his correct diagnosis, I called Jillian to tell her. She graciously offered to help through the Chix 4 A Cause donation. “What does he need?” This is what I love about this organization. A gift of love it was. Russ was overwhelmed with a diagnosis of cancer. The only thing he heard at the doctor’s office was that he was going to need a humidifier because he was likely going to get nose bleeds. I remember him being so worried about that side effect. So, as Chix does, you get what you ask for. Doesn’t seem like much but it was! He didn’t want to be responsible for doing one more thing. Within a week, they came to visit with humidifier in hand as well as a prayer shawl, gas cards, and other love items. Their presence was a gift above and beyond. My mother melted in their love. 

It’s another year. I look forward to an event that gives so much to those with this diagnosis.  Thank you Chix 4 A Cause for who you are.