How's that for a self-pity sort of title? So, on to the more frivolous.
Most of our gifts in this house are wrapped in Christmas wrapping paper. Yup. Because I have to save the occasional still "good" gift bag in case of a gift for someone outside of family. They get a gift bag, because they might not understand why Snowflakes are on their birthday gift in July. And Christmas wrapping paper seems to be the only kind of paper I can get the brain power up to actually purchase... It's funny how when I buy a gift, I pretty much NEVER think "Oh, yeah, and some wrapping paper would be good." Instead I think "Chaching, I managed to BUY this lovely gift BEFORE the event in question! How exciting!"
Truthfully, I have never been super good with wrapping paper sort of details, but the last years have not helped me out any.
So, today, the day before Father's Day I realized that I had purchased gifts (Yaaaaay!) but have only Christmas paper. Oh well. Frosty it is. I'm proud of myself, because I'm thinking of actually wrapping the gifts 16 hours ahead of when I'm supposed to give them. Bonus.
I'm writing on this happier, sillier note, because it's been a tough day for me so far. Oh, no real reason, other than I lost my son not even 3 months ago, after 2 years of seeing him deteriorate, and now my Dad is feeling crummy in hospital and for Father's Day, even. Did you detect a note of self-pity in there? Well, I did.
And I am very easy to upset these days. Taking even myself by surprise (or maybe ONLY myself) with my "emotional instability." I'm irritable, hot-headed, easily frustrated and impatient. I have that "only one nerve left" sort of feeling, and seriously, there IS this eye twitch, but it is internal. I can feel it though. Volatile, I believe, would be the word for it.
By one o'clock to day, I returned home from the hospital and then I lay down in bed. I didn't even really sleep. Sometimes I just do this thing. I lie there and just relax as my brain whirls with so many thoughts, ideas, etc. Then slowly, slowly it all unwinds. Finally I get that "Hmm, where was I for a few seconds?" feeling and I feel much better. Today I lay there for an hour to get to that point. I never actually slept. But once I got that feeling I could get up again to "face" things.
So now, here is what you are really waiting for: an update on my father. Today his WBC were at 27. (From 87 just a couple of days ago. Normal is between 5-12, I believe). My Dad was feeling pretty sick yesterday, and tired. He slept a lot.
Let me back track a bit. They started him on hydroxyuria to supposedly start taking down the WBC. But the dose they started with didn't work, and the counts kept going up. They added in the second med (but I won't be able to spell it) and his counts only dropped from 87 to 85. When you need to get below 30, this is not really progress. The second drug they used was one of the two my Dad had the last two times, just at a lower dose. If I understood the doctor's explanation, the leukemia cells now might be sort of resistant to this drug, which is why a lower dose did almost nothing.
So they really, really upped his hydroxyuria to try to get things under control. Thing is, they had to up the dose so much, that it was basically back almost to what would be a "high dose" and we know that his intestines can't handle that level of toxicity. So they were watching him closely for signs of inflammation. They could see signs that his intestines were getting stressed, but he was still able to absorb fluids and so ok. But, of course, this is not a good treatment option for long term.
Which is why, once his WBC came down below 30, they stopped the hydroxyuria completely. Now that the leukemia is more "in control," they can try a few other drugs that my Dad has not previously used. These are oral meds, so he will not need to have needles. One good thing. Not that needles are a big deal to my Dad, particularly with all the other, worse stuff, but still. They hope that the leukemia will not be as resistant to these new drugs. So they hope that the low dose treatment of these drugs will be able to hold the leukemia below a WBC of 30, or even bring down the count slowly.
They needed to take the risk of the high dose of hydroxyuria, because my Dad was already on it, and they needed to get things under control quickly. Now they know that it works to bring down his WBC. So they have that course in an emergency, in the meantime it has bought them time to work with other treatments that are less toxic to my father's battered body.
Leukemia is a nasty disease, in case you didn't know. (Well, I'm sure that extends to almost all cancers.) It makes you feel sick. You get sores in your mouth. You have fevers and aches and pains. You are very, very tired. You can get rashes. You lose your appetite.
And it is nasty because to treat it, you gotta take poison. And the chemo can make you nauseous, give you horribly loose bowels, cause sores in your mouth, give you fevers, and make you very, very tired. See much difference between the two lists? I don't.
We know when it has been a bad day for my Dad. We can tell when he is just feeling so awful. Because on those days he starts talking about funerals... well, his own, anyway.
Yesterday he was talking about them. Today he didn't. Since they stopped the hydroxyurea, my Dad was feeling better.
Do you know how many sick people there are in this city? In this country? In the world? Man, that is a heck of a lot of sick people. And it makes me feel so sad to think of other people, like my Dad, feeling so much pain and discomfort and discouragement that they are mentioning funerals. And makes me even sadder to think how many of them, unlike my Dad, are afraid to die. So they are thinking about death, even as they are fearing it...
All right people, what am I saying? Don't forget Jesus' ministry to the sick, or how important it was to Him that we visit them. There are lots of good places to volunteer, but don't forget that hospitals are some of them. Of course, people with illnesses that affect the immune system might be off limits for visitors. But there are plenty of others. I'm just saying...
Thanks for sharing this post Karen! When my dad passed away from cancer years ago, he refused chemo and I could not understand why. It has only been years later after really hearing about the effects of chemo that I now understand his decision. At the time it felt like he was choosing to die over fighting to stay with us. In reality he was choosing to really be with us as much as he possibly could without all the side effects. I now see his side of the story and appreciate his choice more fully.
ReplyDeleteHe too had a strong faith and had no fear of dying. He even used to wake up near the end and say, "what? I'm still here?" Tragic but funny and faith affirming all at the same time. It is a horror to suffer through a loved one dying of cancer and it has only been years later that we have seen the positive from what has come of his dying this way. His grand daughter who was 3 at the time but very, very bright and aware of what was happening, is growing up to become a research doctor. She has her Masters in Molecular Biology and has been accepted into med school this Fall. Her Masters has been doing research on Lipids and Heart disease at the St. B Research Center. She will eventually get her PhD and be very active in research and finding cures for diseases like cancer. Her Grandpa would be so proud of her! We miss him deeply but also understand if this scarring event was part of God's plan to help save others, then we will gladly bear the burden. Though the impact of the tragedy was profound, it did have a reason and we have great faith of a happy reunion someday. You never know how your struggles over these few years may be the simmering pot for great things from yourself, your husband and Caeden. As hard as it is, I encourage you to enjoy your time with your Dad and appreciate the moments, which I am positive that you already know how to do. God Bless!