Day 6
Before going up to see my dad that morning, a sunny crisp fall morning, I went to see our family GP, who had been my doctor as well as my parents doctor for almost 30 years. I went into his office with a copy of the living will that my dad had signed and let them photocopy it to put into his chart. Then I sat down with the Doctor who I will refer to as Dr. G. Dr. G sat down with me and listened to my concerns and after checking the paperwork began to open up to me about my dad. I asked if he had cancer, Dr. G said no, not that they had ever found. He informed me that if my dad can beat this pneumonia and have his kidneys come back to full function, he should live another 20 years. I felt pretty good about that to be honest. I went back up to the hospital by myself, expecting to see Dad the way he was the night before. I got to ICU, scrubbed and then saw that his glass sliding door to his room was shut, the lights were dim and there were warnings up to wear gloves, eye protection, a hair cap and a gown. I was a little shocked by that, but I did what I had to do. The biggest shock of my life came when I went in and saw even MORE tubes in and out of him, and the dialysis machine. If you have never seen one being used, they are kind of cool but also very very creepy. I just stared at everything. The nurses were great in ICU however, taking time to explain things to me, telling me to talk to him, that he probably could hear me etc. I talked about mundane things, the whole time my eyes wandered over to the hulking machine that was cleaning his blood. I will admit, I could only stay in the room for a few minutes at a time, because it was so very overwhelming. I made phone calls to people, updating every time I left the room. I was not sure if he was going to make it, but I still had this insane hope that he would.
I spoke with a doctor who was monitoring his breathing tube, and he showed me how my dad was doing 94% of his OWN breathing! 94%!!! That is NOT a chintzy number. I was almost elated at that point. I knew then that I had done a good thing by putting him on life support - hell if this was happening, maybe we can take him off soon and he will eventually COME HOME!!! The doctor told me that Dad had some tests for the following day, including a CAT scan, and provided they could bring him out of sedation enough to do the CAT scan and as long as his breathing continued to do as well, he could be off of the machine by Friday November 9th (which would be day 8). I was overjoyed! I went home that night feeling VERY positive.
On day 7, I stayed home. I was finally over my virus and to be honest, with all of the tests dad had that day, I would not see much of him. I figured the kids needed to see me as well, and I know Sean was happy to see me. I checked in from time to time with the hospital but there were no major changes. I decided to make dinner that night - the first dinner that I had been home for in a few days. I turned the music up in the kitchen and set to my task. In the middle of my dancing/cooking/singing the phone rang. It was the doctor on call in ICU. I answered it sounding breezy and light. He sounded sombre. The call went something like this:
Dr: Jennifer we did the CAT scan on your father
Me: Oh yeah? How did it go? Can we take him off of the tubes tomorrow?
Dr: Well as you are aware, he was having issues with his kidneys and some abnormalities showed up on the blood work, hence the CAT scan.
Me: Okay....
Dr: Can you get down here right now?
Me: Umm not at the moment... why?!
Dr: I am sorry to say this (deep breath and then sigh) Your father has stage four lymphoma. It is a cancer of the immune system.
Me: Okay...
Dr: Do you understand what I am saying?
Me: (with a buzzing in my head and sounding way too cheerful still) Yup! So can we take him off of the tubes?!
Dr: Jennifer, I am sorry to say this, but it is terminal. Do you understand what I am saying?
Me: Sure.
Dr: I am referring his case to the head of ICU. Tonight however I would like to order an upper GI scope if you will consent to that.
Me: Go ahead.
Dr. Okay, the anaesthesiologist will be calling you shortly.
Me: Okay, bye.
Yes, I sounded rather flippant. I was in shock. Big time. I noticed the song was still on the radio and heard the lyrics for the first time:
Really? REALLY? I walked into the living room where Sean was sitting with the girls. He looked up and smiled, then frowned. I just slowly shook my head and walked out of the room. I walked into the kitchen, looked both ways (to make sure no one was going to get hurt) and threw the kitchen chair. Just fucking threw it. I then took a deep breath, turned off the radio and the phone rang again. It was the anaesthesiologist discussing the procedure. He said he would call me back in about 30 minutes when it was done. We sat down to dinner (I did not even taste the food) and the phone rang again - the procedure was done and they found no cancer cells. He then informed me that typically they do a lower GI next, and then lymph node removal, but he wanted to go straight to node removal. I asked about the risks etc and then gave him the go ahead. He asked if I would be in the following day and I replied yes.
Talk about a roller coaster of a day. One minute I am thinking hooray it will all be better and then that word enters my life. That ugly fucking C word that NO ONE wants to hear. The one no one wants to write about and this fucking word was going to rob me of my father.
I despise that C word. Fucking hate it.
Day 8 I woke up determined to go in and see my Dad. I wanted to know what the hell was going on. This was not right. This had to be a bad dream. This could NOT be possible.
But it was.
When I go to the ICU, I met the new doctor on (head of ICU) who seemed quite competent (and good looking - sorry, he was). He told me that they were going to try a round of steroids to help Dad, as they believe the steroids caused the tumour to shrink which gave off gasses that caused the kidneys to go into failure. He was in a controlled environment so they could do it while he was on Dialysis. He would be on Dialysis for a few hours only this time, not all day.
I held my Dads hand that afternoon, and I forbade any of the Doctors or Nurses from saying CANCER in my Dads room. In that room was my Father, not a disease. Sean picked me up that night and another song came on the radio. And I realised it was the song for this experience. It was Alanis Morissette and the song was called Guardian.
Well hell. If that wasn't fitting what is. That is what I was. I was my Fathers Guardian. And I faced many tough choices and decisions ahead....
Before going up to see my dad that morning, a sunny crisp fall morning, I went to see our family GP, who had been my doctor as well as my parents doctor for almost 30 years. I went into his office with a copy of the living will that my dad had signed and let them photocopy it to put into his chart. Then I sat down with the Doctor who I will refer to as Dr. G. Dr. G sat down with me and listened to my concerns and after checking the paperwork began to open up to me about my dad. I asked if he had cancer, Dr. G said no, not that they had ever found. He informed me that if my dad can beat this pneumonia and have his kidneys come back to full function, he should live another 20 years. I felt pretty good about that to be honest. I went back up to the hospital by myself, expecting to see Dad the way he was the night before. I got to ICU, scrubbed and then saw that his glass sliding door to his room was shut, the lights were dim and there were warnings up to wear gloves, eye protection, a hair cap and a gown. I was a little shocked by that, but I did what I had to do. The biggest shock of my life came when I went in and saw even MORE tubes in and out of him, and the dialysis machine. If you have never seen one being used, they are kind of cool but also very very creepy. I just stared at everything. The nurses were great in ICU however, taking time to explain things to me, telling me to talk to him, that he probably could hear me etc. I talked about mundane things, the whole time my eyes wandered over to the hulking machine that was cleaning his blood. I will admit, I could only stay in the room for a few minutes at a time, because it was so very overwhelming. I made phone calls to people, updating every time I left the room. I was not sure if he was going to make it, but I still had this insane hope that he would.
I spoke with a doctor who was monitoring his breathing tube, and he showed me how my dad was doing 94% of his OWN breathing! 94%!!! That is NOT a chintzy number. I was almost elated at that point. I knew then that I had done a good thing by putting him on life support - hell if this was happening, maybe we can take him off soon and he will eventually COME HOME!!! The doctor told me that Dad had some tests for the following day, including a CAT scan, and provided they could bring him out of sedation enough to do the CAT scan and as long as his breathing continued to do as well, he could be off of the machine by Friday November 9th (which would be day 8). I was overjoyed! I went home that night feeling VERY positive.
On day 7, I stayed home. I was finally over my virus and to be honest, with all of the tests dad had that day, I would not see much of him. I figured the kids needed to see me as well, and I know Sean was happy to see me. I checked in from time to time with the hospital but there were no major changes. I decided to make dinner that night - the first dinner that I had been home for in a few days. I turned the music up in the kitchen and set to my task. In the middle of my dancing/cooking/singing the phone rang. It was the doctor on call in ICU. I answered it sounding breezy and light. He sounded sombre. The call went something like this:
Dr: Jennifer we did the CAT scan on your father
Me: Oh yeah? How did it go? Can we take him off of the tubes tomorrow?
Dr: Well as you are aware, he was having issues with his kidneys and some abnormalities showed up on the blood work, hence the CAT scan.
Me: Okay....
Dr: Can you get down here right now?
Me: Umm not at the moment... why?!
Dr: I am sorry to say this (deep breath and then sigh) Your father has stage four lymphoma. It is a cancer of the immune system.
Me: Okay...
Dr: Do you understand what I am saying?
Me: (with a buzzing in my head and sounding way too cheerful still) Yup! So can we take him off of the tubes?!
Dr: Jennifer, I am sorry to say this, but it is terminal. Do you understand what I am saying?
Me: Sure.
Dr: I am referring his case to the head of ICU. Tonight however I would like to order an upper GI scope if you will consent to that.
Me: Go ahead.
Dr. Okay, the anaesthesiologist will be calling you shortly.
Me: Okay, bye.
Yes, I sounded rather flippant. I was in shock. Big time. I noticed the song was still on the radio and heard the lyrics for the first time:
I think I've finally had enough, I think I maybe think too muchI think this might be it for us (blow me one last kiss)You think I'm just too serious, I think you're full of shitMy head is spinning so (blow me one last kiss)
Just when it can't get worse, I've had a shit day (No!)Have you had a shit day? (No!), we've had a shit day (No!)I think that life's too short for this, I want back my ignorance and blissI think I've had enough of this, blow me one last kiss.
Really? REALLY? I walked into the living room where Sean was sitting with the girls. He looked up and smiled, then frowned. I just slowly shook my head and walked out of the room. I walked into the kitchen, looked both ways (to make sure no one was going to get hurt) and threw the kitchen chair. Just fucking threw it. I then took a deep breath, turned off the radio and the phone rang again. It was the anaesthesiologist discussing the procedure. He said he would call me back in about 30 minutes when it was done. We sat down to dinner (I did not even taste the food) and the phone rang again - the procedure was done and they found no cancer cells. He then informed me that typically they do a lower GI next, and then lymph node removal, but he wanted to go straight to node removal. I asked about the risks etc and then gave him the go ahead. He asked if I would be in the following day and I replied yes.
Talk about a roller coaster of a day. One minute I am thinking hooray it will all be better and then that word enters my life. That ugly fucking C word that NO ONE wants to hear. The one no one wants to write about and this fucking word was going to rob me of my father.
I despise that C word. Fucking hate it.
Day 8 I woke up determined to go in and see my Dad. I wanted to know what the hell was going on. This was not right. This had to be a bad dream. This could NOT be possible.
But it was.
When I go to the ICU, I met the new doctor on (head of ICU) who seemed quite competent (and good looking - sorry, he was). He told me that they were going to try a round of steroids to help Dad, as they believe the steroids caused the tumour to shrink which gave off gasses that caused the kidneys to go into failure. He was in a controlled environment so they could do it while he was on Dialysis. He would be on Dialysis for a few hours only this time, not all day.
I held my Dads hand that afternoon, and I forbade any of the Doctors or Nurses from saying CANCER in my Dads room. In that room was my Father, not a disease. Sean picked me up that night and another song came on the radio. And I realised it was the song for this experience. It was Alanis Morissette and the song was called Guardian.
You, you who has smiled when you’re in pain
You who has soldiered through the profane
They were distracted and shut down
So why, why would you talk to me at all
such words were dishonourable and in vain
their promise as solid as a fog
and where was your watchman then
I’ll be your keeper for life as your guardian
I’ll be your warrior of care your first warden
I’ll be your angel on call, I’ll be on demand
The greatest honour of all, as your guardian
you, you in the chaos feigning sane
You who has pushed beyond what’s humane
Them as the ghostly tumble weed
And where was your watchman then
I’ll be your keeper for life as your guardian
I’ll be your warrior of care your first warden
I’ll be your angel on call, I’ll be on demand
The greatest honour of all, as your guardian
now no more smiling mid crest-fall
No more managing unmanageable
No more holding still in the hailstorm
Now enter your watch-woman
I’ll be your keeper for life as your guardian
I’ll be your warrior of care your first warden
I’ll be your angel on call, I’ll be on demand
The greatest honour of all, as your guardian
Well hell. If that wasn't fitting what is. That is what I was. I was my Fathers Guardian. And I faced many tough choices and decisions ahead....
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