In 2007, my father was diagnosed with lymphatic leukemia. At the time, the dr. said it was treatable. However, over 3 years later, the prognosis has changed. He is dying a slow death. There is one hope left. A treatment that requires him to go to the hospital 3 times a week for a shot. Of course, there are many risks with this treatment, and worst yet, the hopes for a positive outcome are less than 50%.
Next week, he starts the treatment. I pray that he doesn't have an allergic reaction to it. Otherwise, his life will become even more miserable. We all have mixed emotions about this treatment. A part of us wants him to at least try it, while the other part would rather him not do this. I, personally, feel he should give it a shot. Honestly, he has nothing to lose. But this isn't about what I want, because if it were, then he would be strong and healthy; enjoying his retirement as well as his family.
I can't help but to think that my nephew will eventually forget about his "papa" as he gets older. I hope that there will be remnants of his favorite papa that he will never forget about. i also hope that my dad will still be around in a year and a half to see me graduate with my Bachelors degree in Legal Studies. I hope and pray many things for my father. I had hoped that one day, I would have a partner whom I would spend the rest of my life with, and he would have been able to have met her. More importantly, he would have liked her and treated her as another one of his daughters.
But, I'm not sure any of those things will happen in his life time. For now, it is important for him to know that I love him regardless of all the differences we have had in the past. That no matter how mad I have ever been at him, I never ever once stopped loving him. I will always remember when I was little and playing softball, and him asking if I wanted to practice softball with him, and we would play for hours in the back yard. He would throw the worlds highest pop-ups, throw so hard to me that it would sting through my glove, and grounders that would prepare me for anything on the field come game time. While I can't recall ever going on a vacation with him; usually it was just my mom and sister, I remember a summer where we were playing all-stars in southern Indiana and he packed up the truck, loaded us up in the back with the cap on and off we went. It was the best summer I ever had with my whole family.
It's hard to believe the questions that pop into your head when you get the news that your parent is dying. This part wasn't so much a shock, it's when the reality hits that time is just about out and all those questions you wanted to ask are either not so important anymore, or other things have now come to the front that more important. But the one thing that comes rushing to the front is wanting to tell them that you love them very much. That all the grudges, hurts, and disappointments are no longer important anymore.
My dad is the greatest man I have ever known. He worked hard to support his family. When he was sick, he sucked it up and went to work. No matter how grim things would get in life, he would say "Keep your chin up". While he could be frustrating at times (as I know I was for him); always talking about what the government was talking about doing next with health care and what-not, I know now that even though the world would change long after he was gone, he was still looking out for us way into the future.
Another odd thing that happens, is the clarity that comes with the knowledge that a parent is terminally ill. You begin to look at the world under a different microscope. You have a better understanding of what it was they were trying to accomplish within their life; whether it was in the past, present, or future.
But for now, all we can do is sit back; talk, laugh, cry, and repeat this process over and over again in no certain order.
