Waiting-the hardest part…
Warning:This blog is going to take an emotional roller coaster thanks to the crazy events that are currently happening in my life. If I keep myself busy with other activities (I finally finished a craft project inspired by Pinterest- so I’ll be talking about that later this week to lighten the mood) I can easily forget what’s going on with my Dad. If I have too much time to let my mind wander, especially while commuting, I start to really loose the battle of staying strong. Hopefully, putting this into words will help me with the struggle.
I’m going to put this behind a cut, with a warning that I am talking about potential cancer diagnosis. If you or someone you love is fighting cancer, this may be a sensative topic, and since I’m on a blogroll, I want you to be prepared.
Back in August, my Step-dad (Dad from here on out) was ridiculously sick. So sick, that the man who never wants to go to the doctor decided he, in fact, did want to go to the doctor. They thought he had walking pneumonia and gave him some drugs after taking a chest x-ray. After a few follow up x-rays and some concerning blood work, the doctor recently decided that he needed to do a CT-scan to check out what the spots they found on his lungs were. The CT-scan showed that there were more spots than they originally thought, and they decided they should do a PT Scan. The PT Scan came back a revealed the spots on his lungs were abnormal, as well as the abnormal areas in his lymph nodes and bones.
That is when the world stands still literally. Before the PT-Scan we all joked that it was fungus in his lungus. But now- as we are in the waiting period (he got his biopsy yesterday), the waiting is the hardest part. Because the Doctor says she is still optimistic that it might only be a “virus, fungus, or something else”. The problem, is that I was raised by a nurse, and took more biology and anatomy classes than most liberal arts graduates. I know what these things can mean. And, being raised by a nurse, learned that you could fall off the monkey bars and break your neck- if you weren’t careful and stepped on a rusty nail you could get lock jaw- and to always, always let her know if your lymph nodes felt swollen. That’s 0ne of the many reasons we (she and I) are always so frustrated with Dad. He hates the doctors, and won’t go to the hospital for anything. And here he is, the last two months, in and out of tests and doctors’ offices. I feel bad for him, I worry for him.
And that’s how I found myself in the garage with him the other night, while Mom was out hosting one of her sales parties. And despite everything I feared and everything I “know” trying to convince him that it could just be nothing. And that worse case scenario, if it is something- we’ll do the most optimistic thing we can- watch the Three Stoogies and find some “medicinal brownies”. It was one of the hardest conversations I’ve ever had to have, but one of the easiest ones to actually do. I had no choice but to push the fears out of my mind and tell him how okay we’d be. I joked with him and tried to get him to smile if only for a second. I hope that I helped him. Mom came home and I let her take over. I know everyone says this, but it’s because it’s so vitally true. There is nothing in the world that quite compares to seeing your Dad cry.
In the meantime, we wait. We hope it’s just some weird cancer. Maybe a cool tree growing in his lungs like happened on Grey’s Anatomy. I mean- he can’t possibly have cancer- can he? He’s too healthy, he’s my Dad!
Now we wait…