November 7, 2012

Dad fought the biggest fight of his life and today he was finally captured by this awful disease. The love and support from the friends has been heartwarming. The kind words so refreshing.

Last night his breathing was fast and shallow and it carried on to this morning. His hemoglobin was at 1 and he was suffering from alkalosis. The doctors (all 8 of them) said they had never seen anyone alive with a blood count that low. What they found even more impressive is that not only was he alive, but he was coherent and in absolutely no pain. The hours before he left for the hospital were intense and such a whirlwind of emotions. Dad was always afraid to go to the hospital. He said that if he went there he knew they would kill him, and for this same reason he didn't want chemotherapy. The problem is we weren't given any other alternatives except for him to waiver in his beliefs and accept the blood transfusions in order to receive the chemotherapy. In fact, doctors wouldn't even treat dad unless he accepted the transfusions, they said there was no alternative and as a result 35 doctors at MD Anderson refused to take him as a patient.

Needless to say, dad put up a fight! He was so strong willed that even up until the hour before we called the ambulance he got out of bed and walked on his own to use the restroom. And he did, successfully, without even a hint of passing out. Despite the fact that he had been in and out of awareness over the last 24 hours, he was talking the whole time. Jay and him had a little ritual "Walk and talk, walk and talk." And dad would chant it along as he used all if his energies every time he got up to use the restroom. The amazing thing this time, was that dad actually held a conversation, and for one last time his humor came out saying that he needed ex-lax and too bad he didn't have an ex-lax button. I'm sure this was just another invention in his head, being that dad was always inventing things. (Before back up sensors were even available on vehicles, dad rigged one up on the back of his little white Toyota truck, so he wouldn't run over me or my bike. And that was just one if the many inventions he came up with.)

The angels were with him during his last hours. He regained consciousness and told us that he was ready for the hospital. He gave us directions, "Call the liaison committee, wait a couple hours and then call the ambulance." Clear as day, with the same emphasis and hand gestures that he always spoke with. He asked for all of us to be in the room. And after following his instructions we called 911. Dad was aware of everything as we reassured him that he would be alright and walked him through what was going on. He could always hear us, even when he couldn't respond and his hearing and vision worsened. Through it all he maintained his sense of humor and earned the name Goldie Locks or G Locks. Words can't describe this anguish and gut wrenching feeling. So intense it makes you want to vomit. So unfair you can't help but to wish it was someone else. So angry because we did all that we could do and still nothing worked. So lost because dad is the glue that kept everyone together. He's the mediator, the eye of the storm, the voice of reason, the first one to spaz and yet always the first to say sorry in an argument.

I always admired the way my parents argued, voicing their opinion one minute, and then hugging and kissing the next. He is such a loving husband, a wonderful father, an understanding brother, an admirable son, a calm and wonderful teacher, a great best friend, a kind boss, an extremely hard worker, and such a faithful servant of Jehovah. To say that he will be missed is an understatement. He will be mourned, pined after, admired, and always remembered by our family, friends and coworkers. It sounds so cliche to say he touched so many people's lives and hearts, but I can positively say that those who knew him only have good memories of dad, as he was always compassionate, understanding, unbiased and unlimited in love. He is written down in the book of life and soon Jehovah "will call." And dad "will answer." "Then we'll come to see all that life can be: Paradise eternally."

9/11/12 A.M.L

So far it's been a long and painful battle. Dad's at the point where his energy is fading as well as his comprehension. His responses are vague almost like he's sleep walking. We finally got him hooked up to an I.V. today for fluids and to prevent any dehydration, which is kind of ironic since the nurse we saw today told us that based on his blood test he's been dehydrated for weeks and that this should have been a given for his treatment long ago. Thanks a lot Mr. M.D. At M.D. Anderson. It's one thing to just not agree with us for opting out of going through with the "standard" treatment of chemotherapy due to our conscientious choice to refuse blood transfusions, but to just throw your hands up and fail to offer any kind of suggestion for alternative treatment because we don't want dad to just be another number, is just appalling. Yes, we refuse blood transfusions. No, that doesn't mean we don't want the best health care out there, nor does that mean we don't accept other alternative whole blood fractions like erythropoietin to boost the blood count, or any other method of treatment that could possibly work. So much for being the greatest cancer hospital in the world. So much for all that non profit research, they're just big phonies constantly searching for "alternative" cancer treatments that they will never find, it's always just 50 years away. It brings tears to my eyes to think science has the ability to create an environment that can allow Felix Baumgartner to successfully jump and land a 24 mile high free fall, without ever spontaneously combusting, or breaking a bone, or turn into a human centrifuge. He didn't even need a minute after landing to compose himself or get his bearings. All in the name of science and yet the closest thing we've come to for cancer treatment is chemotherapy and radiation, a method of treatment they stumbled upon when it's original purpose (mustard gas) was for chemical warfare during World War I. We are at the time in history when we are begging for God to finally take just action and relieve us from the miseries of this horrid world.

Restless Nights

So I can't sleep. Completely unmotivated to write, but sooo restless. I even tried to wake up my husband for a small eency weency bit of understanding, support, consolation. Didn't happen. Instead I got a couple of grunts, a kissing teeth sound and then the obvious utter "why did you do that? I'm sleeping." No...really? As if I didn't give it any thought before I decided to wake you. I guess that sweet form of consolation and consideration just slips through the cracks over time. Oh to be date mates again. How is it that some couples fall more and more in love with their spouses, while others undoubtedly grow in their love and yet, excel in irritation? Remember when the little things used to cause so much upset? I remember expressing my dismay over squeezed toothpaste, most of you know exactly what I'm talking about, but for those of you who don't let me elaborate. The squeezed tooth paste that just oozes out the top because the faulty user forgot to read the little disclaimers notice that said to push toothpaste from the bottom up. In not talking about a full tube of toothpaste because squeezing from the center wouldn't matter, rather its the almost finished tube that has had the life and jelly-oozed life squeezed out of it from the center, has accumulated residue on the top, to the point that the little flap no longer closes. Shortly followed by the second little annoying quirk, "We need more toothpaste." What?! Irritation setting in as you discover that it's not more toothpaste we need but rather Siri to tell us the "to do" on how to use our tooth paste tube, or for that matter maybe they should just feature a commercial on t.v during the football game, or broadcast it on a podcast or sports news. Needless to say once you discover this "empty" tube and make the proper adjustments you can minimally get another week or two out of it. Must be the delirious frugal girl in me talking. Remember the late nights on the phone even though you both had to be at work early the next morning, the countless love letters and phone calls during the day. Married life works over a couple reality checks. Turns into plenty of late nights...talking to the t.v. news or yelling at the refs in the 100th game of the season. Oh and let's not forget the countless letters... From financial institutions reminding you when your bills are due. Then there's the "Why do I have to call you all day, you know I have to work?" It's so ironic, all those untouchable love movies that make love so idealistic. Which brings us back to the main point that I still can't sleep, while significant other has now etched himself to the edge of the bed so I won't bother him with my tossing and turning and is peacefully snoring away. I swear to you tomorrow he will tell me he didn't get to sleep at all! Oh what a pity! I could have been in a peaceful slumber too, if only I would have gotten just a little bit of understanding and a brief convo. I probably would have fell fast asleep. Instead, here I am writing about idiosyncrasies and listening to an obnoxious pipe banging every five minutes or so, beside our bedroom window (not sure from what). Also not sure what causes our baby monitor to make a deathly unclear white noise every now and then, that makes you literally want to jump up from bed and run for cover. Maybe I can find some music to my ears from these delicate repetitious noises that just might help me to sleep. Inhale, exhale, snore, pipe bang, radio static... inhale, exhale, snore, pipe bang, baby whimper, radio static... Then again, maybe not.