The inevitable is, we will all die. All of us. At some point in our lives, our calling will be made and we will see the light and be gone. One can only hope you have had a fulfilling life filled with love and no regrets.
This is what I wish for my Dad. He was born just 56 short years ago. He is dying. Quickly. Not only does he have cancer throughout most of his body, it has most likely now entered his brain and his cancer is eating him from the inside out. He has cancer sores all over his body. He has a bed sore on his back, which is exposing his tail bone and spine, it’s the size of a cantaloupe.
Nothing about cancer is fun. Nothing about it is easy. But to see a loved one in physical pain, SUCKS! Nothing short of S.U.C.K.S. PERIOD. It SUCKS. On Friday night he screamed in pain for 10 straight hours. Finally, at 7am his girlfriend called Hospice, they did not arrive fast enough, so she called 911. He was admitted into the hospital where they finally got the pain under control, 10hours later. Sunday, I asked him if he would consider going to a Hospice Pain Management Center. He declined, saying the doctors were really helping, BUT, he would consider it the following day. I called the Social Worker that helps him and we agreed to try to persuade him that it would be best for him to be in a Hospice facility. At 6pm, he was transferred into a Pain Management Center. THANK GOD!
Since arriving, he has been in much less pain. Only problem? He is slipping, and slipping fast. This is good and bad. In my mind, I’m ready for this battle to end. In my heart, I’ll never be ready to say Good-bye to the first person I called Daddy. To the man who brought me into this world. So instead, I sit here and wait. I make my daily phone calls to him, which as of yesterday, I couldn’t make out but 2 words he said to me, “love” and “boys.” If it wasn’t for the same sentence he tells me at the end of each and every phone call, I would have had no idea what he said. So what was he trying to tell me? “I love you honey. Give the boys a hug for me. And tell T hello.”
With each phone call, I can only hope, he knows its me on the other end. That it is his little girl who loves him and is constantly thinking about his well-being. It’s me Dad…please, know it’s me.
The realist in me knows the end is approaching. I almost want it to happen sooner than later. He is in pain. He doesn’t deserve to be in pain. He is NOT a bad person. There are many BAD people in this world….child molesters, murderers, rapist…the list goes on…my DAD is NOT BAD! He doesn’t deserve to hurt.
I can only wish him comfort. I wish he would shut his eyes and remember all the wonderful times he had with my brother and I and all the fun times he had with his friends. He has a lot of friends! I wish that when he sleeps at night he is only reminded of those happy times, not of pain. Not of being paralyzed. Not of this rotten disease that is slowly taking his life in the most miserable way known to man.
Dad, I love you. Our boys love you. I’ll never forget our days in the park while sipping 7-11 slurpees and you pushing me on the swings. I’ll always cherish our Sunday’s on Clearwater Beach and how just before we would leave I’d look out the window to see if the birds were flying over our house, for what I liked to think of was them calling us to the beach I’ll never forget how you tried to make it to my college graduation but you just couldn’t find it. But most of all, I’ll never ever forget the day you helped Mike give me away to T and wished us all the luck in the world. I’m so glad you were able to see what I’ve become and who your grandchildren are. I love you, Dad.
Love you MUCHES!
Dad….I wrote this about you last night. While T had the boys at the pool and I sat here crying my eyes out. Today, I decided to do something good for myself. I took a nice jog on the treadmill. The day seemed to start off much better. Then I got a phone call. Not the dreaded call, but a call from your wonderful nurse who kindly and ever so gently, told me to change my plans and come by your side sooner than Saturday. She tells me you’ll be passing in the next few days. I knew this day was coming, but it makes it no easier to hear out loud. To know, it is indeed, inevitable.
I love you!!!!