Then I got the phone call.
It's the phone call I've always dreaded. I've always known we'd get it one day, but a person goes through life hoping that day is always 20 yrs into the future.
My sister called at 5:30 p.m. yesterday. (because she is the talker of the family and has been designated "news giver") She called me at work. This isn't good. You know that right off the bat.
She said "Well you know what's been going on for the last three weeks, right?"
I said, quite stunned "Um...no."
This is the biggest drawback of not living in the same city as my family.
She dropped the bomb "Dad is in the hospital."
...and the words rang in my ears, chilled through my body and took my breath away....
Cautiously, I asked "Why?"
**And I digress: My father and I have a bond. It's different than the bond I have with the rest of my family. I love them all but my father is my hero. He's my sanity.
In all my life I cannot recall one time when I have questioned his judgement. I rebelled against it a few times, but I never questioned it.
He is my rock.
I KNOW this call will come someday. It is a fear in the back of my mind at all times. I cannot fathom life without him. I CANNOT.
There is history here. His mother had cancer...three times.
She had two mastectomies and died of lung cancer in her early 70s.
His father died of lung cancer (Camel unfiltered) at the young age of 60.
None of the men in my father's family lived past the age of 65 years.
This little grey cloud of knowledge has hung ominously over our heads for ages.
My father is 63.
My father smoked from his late teens until a few years ago when he finally was able to quit. (3 or 5 years - I can't recall now)
We hoped (he hoped too) that quitting would extend that....lift the curse...free us.
Sidenote: Everyone I know who has quit smoking has found cancer within the next few years. Who's doing the study on that?! Where's the prevention?
***
So I called him last night and his spirits are good. His voice sounds like my brother's when my brother was very young. It is higher pitched now. Dad says he doesn't know what has caused that.
He was very winded which he excused with "I just climbed up on this hospital bed." I wasn't buying that.
He told me, between breaths, the story of the past three weeks:
He had a cold with a fever. He went to the doctor (physician's assistant) and was told he had a virus. No antibiotics, because antibiotics won't cure a virus. "Give it a week. It will pass."
I spoke with him on the phone at th end of that week. He was feeling better. He thought it was going away.
That was the last I knew.
Since then his fever has come and gone. Sometimes it got as high as 104 degrees.
He got in to see the doctor again on Monday 10-17.
They took X-rays. They saw a cloud on his lung.
They suggested a cat scan.
The reading of the cat scan suggests there is a "5 centimeter tumor in the upper right quadrant that might have metasticized into a rib." The doctor referred him to another doctor. Dr. Bashra.
Dr. Bashra phoned my father at home on Monday night and asked him if he wanted to check into the hospital that night or wait until Tuesday.
My father replied "Um, I'm eating dinner right now."
My parents had a night of tears together. The call had come for them too.
He checked in on Tuesday afternoon.
He met Dr. Bashra at the hospital. Dr. Bashra said "I just don't think this is cancer. It doesn't look like cancer. It looks like pneumonia maybe. It's soft tissue. Not a tumor."
Dad says "I love Dr. Bashra!"
I love him too. I hope like all hell that he knows his stuff and that he's right.
They put in an I.V. last night and I got off the phone so they could rest. I'll call again in the morning.
Today they will go into his lung with a camera.
Dear Dad, I love you with every fiber of being that I am. Please, please be ok. Please don't leave me. Don't leave us.
We need you. And you are that little baby boy's best friend in the whole world. You just can't go now. You have to watch him grow up some more.
I love you,
Agnes
Sigh. - OK...so....I was going to start a post on childhood memories and now seems like a perfect time. For all you bloggers, I hope you have at least one wonderful memory to share. Send me a happy thought.
Here is one of mine:
Back in the early 90s Houston built a tollroad. They built it at the end of my parent's street. When it was finished, and before it was opened, it sat empty...many miles and many lanes of virgin concrete with no traffic at all.
One clear, cool Saturday my father got a wild hair and gathered up myself and my sister. "Go get your bikes!" he encouraged. And we did.
Then we followed him to that tollroad.
I can't, for the life of me, remember how we got ON that elevated concrete, but we did. Together we rode. We rode full out, as fast as we could. We rode without hands. We did figure 8s around each other.
We felt the wind and the warm sun on our faces.
We laughed like we owned the world.
He was a teenager again. We were all kids together. We felt alive and it was written in our uncontrollable, full-face grins.
It was a good day.
It was a great day.
Please share your stories. Dad loves to laugh. I love the kid in him. I can't think of a better way to think of him right now.
4 comments:
Aggie, thinking of you and your dad. Thoughts and prayers. May the two of you have many more years together to make many more memories. Godspeed.
So sorry to hear about this bump, Agnes...coz I refuse to believe it's anything but a bump in the road.
Hmmm...a funny story from my childhood...well, we used to have a gardener, an old guy who was always around in the kitchen where Granny spent most of her time. He used to put his big rubber boots just outside the kitchen door. Me and my sister were fighting a lot, but there were times when we co-operated too...and that day when we poured water in those rubber boots was one of those days ;)
I've never had to run so fast in my life and I had no idea that Granny was so fast...lol Darn, she was pissed off...hehehe
I'll be thinking of both you and your dad, Agnes {{{{{hugs}}}}
Geez...you almost made me start crying. i realized halfway through that I was holding my breath, waiting to find out what happend. I hope he's well. Keep us updated.
Thanks for thoughts and prayers, each of you.
Update in next post.
Christa, I love your story. Boots full of water. Mischevious girls.
I bet your granny was fit to be tied....and ready to tie you both up!
My husband grew up the oldest of three boys. Talk about getting into trouble. I think there was a story about his grandmother and a live snake in the bed. ACK.
Post a Comment