I just re-read a couple of my earlier posts, and I sound like a raving bitch. I'm ashamed of myself and at the same time painfully aware. Life is breaking my heart, and what I've written is actually the ravings of a really scared little girl who's afraid of losing her dad. The chemo is kicking his butt and he's shrinking, going from about 220 b4 surgery to 186 as of Wednesday. Although he makes a valid attempt at eating -- he stuffs the fridge with all of the non diabetic foods he's historically enjoyed -- he's just not consuming the calories. Last night I tried to tempt him with some pork chops dipped in egg, dropped in flour and instead of baked, fried in oil and then smothered in gravy with some candied sweet potatoes on the side. Yeah, I know, not very heart healthy but at this point we just want him to eat something. He told me to put everything in the fridge and he'd eat it tomorrow. I already know the gestation period in the fridge will be approximately one week before I toss it in the garbage. Been there, done that.
Ernie left on Wednesday and I wonder if that has anything to do with him being so down. His little bro's visit was really good for him, and yes, I have to admit Ernie made a liar out of me by staying for the duration. He cooked for him, did some house cleaning, fed the dog, did dad's laundry, drove him to his chemo appointments on Tuesday, and on Valentine's Day, made us all the best damn pot roast I'd ever tasted. He was awesome. The pot roast was followed by a chocolate cake dad ordered from Safeway, as a thank you to his girls for taking care of him. It was a really sweet thing to do.
Ernie and I talked alot on the drive to the airport and he gave me a lot of insight into dad as a person. I talked to him about our fears and frustrations. Crazy frustration when Dad continued to lay around after his surgery when we thought he should be making more effort to keep moving, and we thought he should have made more effort to cleaning up after himself, and we thought he should have been more involved with his ostomy care and eating healthier. Bottom line, we were completely out of our depth, in an emotional upheaval trying to adjust in uncharted territory. And Dad?...well, Dad's body has been in active combat, in a war zone on the front lines, sustaining numerous casualties. All he's been trying to do the past couple of months is survive, which has literally taken everything he's got. Life after surgery has been a royal bitch, and his primary focus has been, and continues to be the extreme effort that is necessary to keep moving one foot in front of the other. Literally and figuratively.
Uncle Ernie's advice? Help him continue to live in his own home with dignity. Hold him up when the burden of his illness becomes too heavy for him to bare alone, pick up after him if he leaves something behind, listen to him when he needs to spout off. Because tomorrow...well, it's a gray area.
And so we'll take Uncle Ernie's good advice, and just be there for Dad no matter what. And pray, lots of prayers.
Dear God, I am really weak, please don't let me crumble under pressure. Help us all to be what dad needs us to be to help him get through this.
No comments:
Post a Comment