Posts Tagged ‘Cancer’

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Freelance Friday: My Father’s Answer

May 25, 2012

In the summer of 2001, I was the director of engineering for a large company in eastern North Carolina; the day had been long and taxing, like most of my days during the heat of summer.  Increased power needs, to keep the plant cool, were taking our systems to the very limits.  How could I know later that night the test of my own limits would begin.

Like most boys, my father was my hero.  He was a big man physically, his personality more gentle than rough.  Given his size, it was easy for him to be that way.  For me, he always had the answer.  One day, during the first grade, he showed up at school to pick me up for a doctor’s appointment.  Filling the frame of the classroom door, I had to smile at the comments of my classmates: “He’s a giant!” exclaimed one; “Wow, is that you’re Dad?” asked another.  It was always like that with my Dad, he always commanded a calm strength, by either his size or his character.  Nothing could ever beat him in my mind.

It was 9:15PM one late August night.  I had just settled into bed, as the next day was due to start well before sunrise.  I almost did not answer when the phone started ringing; I was in no mood for another silly question from work.  I did answer.  The sound of my father’s voice gave me some concern; it was not our routine to talk on the phone much.  Someone must be sick or been hurt in some way.  My father and I had fallen into a strange distance from one another.  I guess most do, as sons become men on their own.  I braced myself and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I have lung cancer.”  The words swam around in some misty haze in my head.  I heard them; they simply could not be the truth.  After a few uncomfortable moments getting my wits about me, the questions started.  “What does this mean?”  “What are you going to do about it?”  What do you need me to do…,” I rapid-fired questions off at my father as if from the barrel of a machine gun.  “I’m going to the Mayo in Jacksonville,” he replied in a strong, calm voice.  Again, he had the answers.

Over the next few months, I made it a point to visit with my Dad.  Making time when something as this happens to a family member is understandable.  Reflecting now, I can only regret not doing more of that all along; we always make time when time is the commodity we see running out.  A surprise trip for Father’s Day was the first time I noticed something was different.  It was nothing overt or dramatic.  More the little things only noticed by someone that has distance between visits.  For the first time, true fear swelled inside me.  I would not allow myself to feel in my heart what my head was telling me.  It was not something I wanted to talk with my Dad about; but my head won out.  With his quiet dignity, he answered my concerns and reassured me.  I believed that if anyone would beat cancer, it would be him.

As the year went on, the heat of the new summer was approaching.  Things with Dad were going as well as anyone expected.  My fears began to subside.  Dad even joked at how the chemo was doing just the opposite of what he was told it would do.  Instead of losing his hair, a snow-white abundance covered his head.  No appetite?  Not my Dad!  He was eating everything in sight.  As late July arrived, I was hopeful about life.  My job was doing great; Dad was doing great.  Maybe the last year had produced for Daddy the result he has said.  He would beat this.  I was not surprised – Daddy always had the answers.

Again, a phone call in the night would change all that.  This time it was my Aunt, “You need to come see your Dad.”  This time there was no confusion.  It was something in her voice.  “He is in the hospital and wants you to come see him.”  The same call was made to my brother and sisters.  Daddy was calling the family close to him.

I talked with my boss and explained the situation.  To his credit, he simply told me to take all the time I needed so I was off on the six-hour drive home.  I went right to the hospital.  Finding my way through the labyrinth of wings, halls, and floors, I found Daddy’s room.  My stepmother was in the room with him.  I grew up with the fortune of four patents, my father and mother divorced before I was even in grade school and both remarried.  I had four good, strong role models in my life.  Daddy was sleeping so I greeted my stepmother, Pat.  She looked tired.

As a nurse, Pat was well accustomed to the routine of a hospital.  This was both a blessing and curse.  She could resolve any minor problems but it also gave insight into what was not being said.  She knew then my Dad’s time was limited and it showed.  She had spent the last few days at his side and that too showed.  She did not want him to be alone.  Looking at her and my Dad, I made up my mind then – I called work and told them I was not going to be back for some time.

Daddy needed constant care.  Pat had been that care day and night.  She would not go home to sleep.  Taking my father’s example, I calmly told her I would stay with Daddy each night so she could go home and sleep.  At first, she was against the idea.  I further explained that it would do no one any good, especially Daddy, if she became sick also.  Pat reluctantly agreed.

I spent that night in a chair by Dad’s side.  I gained a fuller appreciation of Pat’s exhaustion.  Hospitals are full of activity day and night.  Everything from the nurse making rounds to the person cleaning the hall seemed loud.  Looking back, I was being overly sensitive.  I have a deep respect for hospitals and the work they do, but it is not a good place to die, at least not for Daddy.  We all understood that was the road we were on.  The first order of business was to get Dad out of there.

The next morning, when Pat arrived, she asked me to visit a local hospice and see what I thought of it.  She had been by before she came to the hospital that morning and they were expecting me.  For most of us, judging the relative decency of a hospice is about as familiar as quantum physics, I had no idea what to look for or what kind of questions to ask.  Thank God, the staff at the hospice understood.  In a short time, I was convinced this was the place for my Dad.  By the time I relieved Pat for the night, Daddy was resting comfortable in a nice room at the hospice.  It even had a view.

My father needed assistance walking and was very weak.  He was in little pain and his mind very alert.  I truly think it was only the loss of his self-reliance that bothered him.  He did not like to ask for help.  Over the next few days, we came to an understanding of how we would operate in the environment of the hospice.  Each evening Pat would leave us with instructions for the night, we agreed to them but as soon as the coast was clear, Daddy set the schedule for the night.

Most of my life I knew my Father as a stoic man.  He did not suffer his problems on others.  Showing emotions did not come easy for him.  Now, within the confines of that room, our relationship changed.  Still not complaining, Daddy became more open with me about his feelings and life.  Not one time did I hear my Father complain about his situation.  I stated how unfair it was for him to have lung cancer; after all, he quit smoking over 30 years before.  He simply reminded me that life is all about choices.  He made his the best he could with what he knew at the time and was not going to regret it now.  Moreover, he did not want me to show him the sadness I felt.  He needed me to simply enjoy his company.  From that moment on, that is how it was.

Over the next week, my father was getting weaker and weaker.  More than assisting him now, I was carrying him to the bathroom.  I promised Pat I would not leave him for a moment, but I had to allow my Father the dignity of privacy when I could, he did not ask, it was something I just knew to do.  It is hard to convey how you can have such joy while feeling such total pain in your soul.  It was time for me to be there for my father.  I have wished my whole life to make my father proud of me, every boy does.  One bad night, that became the subject of our talk.

It was sometime after 2:00AM, Daddy needed to go to the restroom.  I was having a hard time by this point and he knew it.  When we finally got him back into bed and all tucked in he told he was very proud of me.  “I want you to know I am proud of you,” he started.  “Not for all this,” referring to staying with him at night.  “I am proud of you for who you are.”  Without saying a word, I sat in the chair and placed my head on his bed.  To say I was crying does not cover it.  I was sobbing.  Daddy simply put his hand on my head and told me it was OK.  Lying on that bed, dying, he still had the answers I needed to hear.

The next night things had worsened.  No longer would we be making trips to the bathroom.  No longer was his mind sharp.  It seems he had accomplished all that he needed to and was now ready to slip away from us.  We made it through that night without speaking.  The next day, Pat had arranged for Dad to get a bath.  They have a special one there for people that cannot take one on their own.  I arrived to find Daddy calm and relaxed from it.  He had said his goodbyes to everyone and no longer wanted visitors.  It was Pat and I now for the most part.  Daddy’s time was very near; Patty knew it more than me.  I still had that small part of me that refused to think this could be happening to him.  We settled in for the night.

I had been bringing a book with me for the last few days as Daddy mostly slept now.  I think I had read every book the hospice had to offer so now I was adding to their selection.  It was sometime after 8:00PM and Daddy’s breathing became labored.  I called the family caregiver (I am sure that is not the right term, but they do so much for people it fits much more than nurse),  he did not have to say it was time – I knew it.  I held Daddy’s hand for the last time and told him that I loved him and that it was OK, everything was done and he need not worry any more.  Even though I said it, it was more like him talking to me, trying to make me understand.  I did understand.  He gripped my hand, with that took one more breath, and was gone.

I called home to tell Pat and she came right away.  Strangely, I did not cry.  I thought I would.  I had calmness about me.  I had not yet understood the gift my father had given me over the past two weeks.  Now I simply felt at peace with him.  I think about that time now often.  Everyday something from it inspires me to do better.  I am so thankful to have had the privilege of spending that time with my father.  More than watching him die, I watched him live until the very end.  With his last breath, he gave me one last answer – everything is OK.

 

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Walking, It Does A Body Good

April 12, 2012

D & L Trail Marker

The media is great at telling us things, perhaps too great.  What is good for you one week, is found to be bad the next.  We hear it all the time, things like “Coffee linked to hypertension,” only to be followed the next week with “Coffee, the new miracle drug.”  Who are they kidding anyway?  Such statements are anecdotal at best and always end with the caveat “more research is needed.”  Still, every once in a while, there is the exception, the thing that just makes sense.  Recent reports on walking do just that.

We all know, as humans, we need to exercise.  Our bodies adjust to the lifestyle we choose.  Choose to sit and watch TV all day, you will be frumpy and overweight.  Do a workout that makes Jack LaLanne look like a couch-potato, and you will be a muscle-bound freak of nature.  In one case, you hardly have the energy to walk to the mailbox.  In the other, you might be able to lift a Volkswagen

Improved Trail Path

but your body deals with so much stress you drop dead at 45 as a perfectly healthy corpse.

No, just like about everything in life, activity calls for moderation.  In a sense, we are like Goldilocks and need our fitness activity to be just right.  This is where walking comes in.  It gives us the right amount of physical and cardiovascular activity.  While there are many studies, each with specific recommendations, a common thread to most states everyone should receive at least 30 minutes of moderate exercise a day.  Walking does just that.  If you do that, you recuse your risk factors for cancer, heart disease, stroke, and type-2 diabetes.  People, these are the top rated killers of humans.

The medical conditions listed are reason enough for sure but in all honesty, you get the benefit walking on a treadmill in the garage or gym, as well as from a walk.  There is another reason it should be a walk, a real walk.  As humans, it does us good to get outside and walk around where we live.  It is harder in cities to find a place, I will grant you that, but most cities

today have plenty of parks, walking paths, and trails so that excuse is limited.  The reason it needs to be a walk outside has to do with mental health.  By talking a walk, we reduce the effects of depression, anxiety, and stress.  So get out there!  Have fun with it.

I like to look around for interesting places to walk.  Recently, I walked the Delaware & Lehigh Railroad trail between Northampton and Laurys Station.  The round trip was about a 6-mile walk on the converted rail-bed. It follows the Lehigh River and provides some really interesting

Slate cliff along walk

views.  So, in addition to doing my heart some good, my mind and attitude benefit too.   The entire D & L Trail system (click the name to visit their website) has over 160 miles of improves trails covering all sorts of scenery.  If you live in eastern Pennsylvania, you owe it to yourself to pay the trail a visit.

In the end, regardless where you live, there are trails and walk to enjoy, even Manhattan in New York City has over 20 miles of trials and if you can find a walking trail in New York City, you can find a walking trial anywhere.  Happy walking!

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Thank You!

March 5, 2012

I wish to thank everyone for helping make my Amazon Kindle book promotion a success.  Over 300 people took advantage and downloaded In the Wake of Enchantress and Life’s About the Adjectives.  It is a wonderful way to gain exposure for work.  As a way of thanks, I am making my short story about my father’s battle with cancer available for free for a few days before it goes into the Amazon Prime program.  Just click on the picture below.  Of course, if you do not have a Kindle, you can simple download the free app for IPAD, Nook,PC or whatever you have.  It’s free and can be found at the same link.

 

Again, Thanks!

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