I’m sitting in a hospital room at the VA Hospital, watching my dad drift off to sleep. He’s seriously amazing. One of the most amazing people you’d ever have the pleasure to meet. He’s got this great energy about him that’s just so freakin’ loveable.
This time a week ago, I had no idea how rapidly my life was going to change. It would have been nice for the universe to give us a little bit of notice, but I suppose things like this really make you appreciate every single moment.
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I got a phone call from dad 2 weeks ago. He’s been the primary caretaker of his elderly mom for the last seven years. My spunky grandma–she actually beat lung cancer last year (I didn’t even know that was possible!)–finally succumbed. My dad also mentioned in passing his health hadn’t been so hot recently.
I immediately rearranged my work schedule and Rob and I drove 5 hours down to Coos Bay. We were a day late to say goodbye to my grandma, but we got to go out to dinner with dad and spend some time together. Though we were only there for the night, we knew he had an appointment up here in Portland for February 25th. I was looking forward to hanging out with him and his girlfriend Annie a few days before my 30th birthday.
When he rolled into town last Wednesday, he didn’t look so hot. He was still be-bopping around, but he had to use a cane to walk due to these immense pains in his side. I hate seeing him like that. He became a volunteer firefighter at 55 (just five years ago), and went on overnight hikes with my brother two summer’s ago.
Rob and I loaded him and Annie into the car on Thursday to take him up for his doctor’s appointment. Honestly, I was a bit worried. I knew he needed to do a bone marrow biopsy, and though I had no idea what that meant (just a few days ago–crazy how quickly life changes), I knew I would be worried while we waited the week or so for the results. I wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to drive home to Coos Bay that night–the procedure seemed kind of intense, so I started looking into hotel rooms for him.
It never crossed my mind–not once–that he wasn’t going to be leaving the hospital any time soon. Thursday was the hardest day so far. We learned his kidneys weren’t working properly, his blood cells are wonky, and the doctors told him they didn’t want to take any chances; they had him admitted right away. (Thank goodness he’s a Vet and so far is getting phenomenal health care.)
His girlfriend stayed a few nights up here in Portland, but had to go home on Saturday. She had fallen–cracked her ribs and broke her foot–in between my grandma dying and my dad coming up to Portland for his biopsy. She needs some rest, so she’s back in Southern Oregon for a bit.
The last few days have been a blur. I’ve been up at the hospital mostly, getting to know dad’s doctors really well. I’ve also been researching a lot. They did the bone marrow biopsy on Friday, and we’ve been waiting for the results since.
Basically, some of his rogue blood cells have escaped his bone marrow and are partying in his blood, destroying the new blood cells he needs. What this means, what never even occurred to me because I thought my parents were supposed to live forever, is that he has cancer. Leukemia. Leukemia is cancer of bone marrow, and there’s loads of different kinds. According to the preliminary blood tests, it’s most likely AML–acute myelogenous leukemia. We won’t know until the bone marrow biopsy results come in, which is supposed to be sometime today. So I’m waiting up here, hanging out with daddy-o during the limbo stage.
He’s been really strong; he’s awesome, and all the doctors and nurses just love him. (Of course.)
I’m having a pretty hard time with it–I think once we know what we’re fighting and formulate a plan to vanquish this cancer-dragon, it’ll be a little easier. But the surprise and the suddenness of all this is honestly pretty tough. I don’t like to see my dad with oxygen tubes in his nose and layed up in a hospital bed. I don’t like imagining the worst case scenario. I don’t like not knowing.
But things will be okay. My dad has a lot of fight in him. He said to me yesterday, "Pardon my french, Ness, but I’m going to make this cancer my bitch." Haha. He’s got a great attitude, and he’s not afraid of death, he just doesn’t like not being able to live to his fullest right now.
So while we wait for results today, this is the calm before the storm. The irritating calm, because we don’t know what the future holds, but at least we can still hope for the best.
Of course, I’m bringing my dad some healthy vegan food. It amazes me what kind of food is served in a hospital. Why on earth do they give you hamburger and jello for dinner, followed by stool softeners? Why can’t they just serve lots of fiber-rich fruit and veggies? It drives me crazy.
Cancer sucks and seeing your dad in the hospital really sucks, but I’m a firm believer in positive energy and good thoughts, so I’m pretty hopeful.
Janessa ~ I'm so sorry to hear about your dad! You're right, cancer does suck! I lost my grandma and my girlfriend lost her mom – both last year, both to cancer. It sucks and I hate it. I don't know what I could possibly do to assist you, but if anything comes up and you think "Hey, Olly could help with that" please don't hesitate to let me know. I mean that. On another note, my girlfriend blogged about her experience in dealing with her mom's cancer – I thought you might like to read it: http://findingmymom.blogspot.com/
Some of the early stuff may not apply, but in the end, it is the journey of a parent and child as the parent fights cancer. Your dad is in my prayers – as are you and your family. Take care, Olly
I'm so sorry, Janessa. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.
Janessa, I had no idea. You've been hiding it so well. Your Dad sounds like a really great guy. That's something to feel absolutely great about! I glad to hear that aside from the food he's being taken care of really well.
If you need anything, just let us know.
I wish him strength and health.
Angela
I am so sorry you are going threw this and I love that your dad is going to turn the cancer into his bitch. Are you at the OHSU Vet hospital? My little sister was up there a couple years ago and they do have some vegan menu items and also in the deli, but it does really suck. My sister made a miraculous recovery so I am hoping the same for your father as well. Let me know if I can help at all.
I love the sweet pictures of you and your dad. He definitely seems like a person full of life and positive energy. Throw in some healthy vegan food and some good new habits and your dad can totally beat this thing, I know it. I will continue to pray for him and for you. I have a bag full of hugs for you anytime you want. Love you.
My heart goes out to you and your family. It sounds to me like you are all taking it the best way possible – with positive attitudes and lots of love. Sending lots of good thoughts your way!
On another note, hospitals are nightmares for veggie folk. My older brother was a vegan for 10 years before he was hospitalized with a staph infection. There was absolutely nothing he could eat in there, and he had to start eating meat again out of sheer desperation. Your pops is lucky to have such a dedicated daughter!
Oh Janessa! My heart goes out to you and your family! If you need anything (a ride, a pot of healthy greens, just let me know!)
<3 <3 <3
I'll be sending positive thoughts to you and your Dad!
Hey Nessar, hang in there, Lady. The sudden realization that your parents are mortal is heart-breaking but part of life itself. Although my dad died suddenly and I was thankful that I didn't have to see him in the hospital, it is a blessing for your dad that you're there at his side as he fights off this nasty sh*t. I became a blood marrow donor last year when I found out a friend's sister has leukemia. I hope that a marrow donation can help people fighting the good fight! Lots of love, Sweetheart! <3
"Pardon my french, Ness, but I'm going to make this cancer my bitch." And if he doesn't, tell him that I will go on Jean Claude Van Damne on it for him.
I'm so sorry dear. Hang in there and I'm sending love and good energy your way.
Thanks everyone for the kind comments.
His doctors absolutely adore him, and they let him go for one week to get some affairs in order before returning for chemo next week.
It means so much to me and to him to know that there's so many people out there sending good energy his way.
xo
Janessa,
My thoughts and prayers go out to your father and to you. You so eloquently expressed your anguish and your frustration with this situation. Your dad sounds like a swell guy, and I wish him a speedy recovery and lots of strength in finding this awful disease.
Bless you and yours and keep strong and positive.
I know what's it like to be where you are, because my father passed away from the death sentence that is pancreatic cancer.
I will keep you in my thoughts.
Kris/La vegetaliana
Hey Janessa, keeping your family in my prayers. Stay strong and I admire your positive spirit.
Prayer and hope are very powerful. Miracles do exist and your father sounds like a very motivated, driven and bright man. He will overcome this!