Maybe Yes, Maybe No
May 23rd, 2005 at 11:18 pm by Susie
There’s a Zen parable about a farmer whose wife gives birth to a healthy baby boy. “How lucky you are!” the villagers exclaim. “You’ll have a strong son to help you work the farm.”
The farmer shrugs. “Maybe yes, maybe no.”
The son grows and helps his father. One day, he runs over his own foot with a plow and damages himself permanently. The villagers commiserate: “What bad luck, that your son is now a cripple!”
The farmer: “Who knows? Maybe yes, maybe no.”
Some years later, there is a huge war. The Emperor’s men come to the village and all able-bodied men are taken into the army, where they will almost surely perish. Because the farmer’s son is crippled, he is left at home with his parents. “How lucky you are, that your son wasn’t taken!” the villagers says.
The farmer says (you guessed it), “Maybe yes, maybe no.”
This is all by way of saying that my father will be operated on in a few short hours. I don’t know what will happen and I’m trying not to have any expectations. Until they open him up and check to see whether the tumor spread, they won’t even know if they can complete the surgery.
Would that be a bad thing? Maybe yes, maybe no.
Because cancer is a horrible disease, and the treatment is no picnic. Hospitals often treat cancer patients more like guinea pigs than humans.
I just want my father to go through the least pain possible. Right now, it seems to be the best I can hope for.
FWIW, my mom actually handled the radiation and chemo (something called 5FU) pretty well.
The unremoved tumor, on the other hand…not so much.
Best of luck tomorrow.
Best wishes to your father and your family. I’m sorry to hear that he has to go through that.
I lost both my parents to cancer, so I know how you’re feeling.
I hope all goes well with your Dad.
Pancreatric cancer sucks more than most. My mom had it, and said no to a Whipple(look at the 2 year survival rate if your Dad is a Senior), took way longer to die than any of us hoped (she most of all). She did the chemo, etc. and some experimental stuff. It was awful for her and us.
Only advice I can give you is to call hospice sooner than later.
They are FABULOUS. Caring, smart, concerned, great on pain meds for your dad. I am sorry.
I have cancer at the moment, and likely will still have it when they light the match for my cremation. That could be as soon as a couple of months or maybe 6 or 7 months, but it almost certainly will happen within that time frame, or so I am told.
I got taken off Chemo last Tuesday. It was a multiple dose dealie that included 5FU (now there’s an apropriate name for a Chemo drug!). After a couple of months of treatment it wasn’t doing any good at reducing the tumors in the lymph nodes. Those are the carriers of cancer to the rest of your body: the brain or the liver (or both), the pancreas or skin or intestines. Multiple choices. What is there to say? Sometimes you eat the bear, sometimes the bear eats you. I’m fairly resigned to being eaten by the bear, but I’m not in any pain at the present time so it is easy to be brave.
Of course I’ll try alternative treatments. Nutritional, accupuncture, Macrobiotics — the usual stuff. Maybe go for apricot pits down in Mexico (but probably not). One does what one can. Hell — maybe someone will come up with a magic bullet before I get to the final check-out line. Or maybe I’ll be in the 4% the beats the original cancer — upper stomach — and the rest will just disapear for unknow reasons. It happens. But I wouldn’t bet the farm on it.
Or I could get hit by an 18 Wheeler. That’s the danger all of us face every day and why I say that everyone leads a life of faith. “18 Wheeler” is my shorthand for the unexpected. Like the Tsusami that took 220,000 unexpecting folks out in a few seconds on a beautiful Pacific morning. 18 Wheelers come in a multitude of forms.
I hope your dad gets out of this. I’ll bet he’s one of the good guys, but of course I have no real way of knowing outside of your writing and world view which I like to read. Losing a parent is always tough. No matter what your relationship, without parents (boy is this a trite thing to say, but WTH) none of us would be able to enjoy this amazing trip on this piece of rock out on the spiral arm of an insignificant galaxy. And it has been — and continues to be — a pretty cool trip.
That’s all. I just wanted to say I feel for you and the situation. I wish you the best of luck, and whatever you need to get through the day. We’re involved out here in blogger land. Keep us informed.
David Winn
Austin, Texas
Susie-
I’m so sorry about your Dad. Pancreatic cancer is a really evil disease.
I’ve been through both of my parents’ repeated rounds of cancer - my mother died of lung cancer two weeks ago. The most crucial thing anyone can do to help is to be an informed, present advocate for the person in the hospital. Any patient but especially older people, even those who are totally with it and lucid in normal settings may or may not be able to be their own advocate when they’re coping with major surgery, chemo and heavy duty pain drugs. I don’t know your parents’ situation but I know I’ve spent months essentially camping at the hospital to make sure they got what they needed when they were too weak to push a call botton in their hand. And I fully recognize that this is potentially assvice or impossible - it sure played havoc with my life.
I wish you and your father the best of luck - if not for a recovery at least for a low pain exit with time to say goodbye. The sorrow of losing someone you love is overwhelming even if you have time for closure and facing it is utterly daunting. and Amy is so right about hospice
I’ve been reading you for a long time - always admired what you’ve had to say, but never delurked.
you have my utter sympathy.
leslie
My father died two months ago from stomach cancer.
Find comfort where you can. You are never alone, even when you think that you are; you have friends and confidants in your life.
Enjoy your time with him no matter what happens.
Peace onto you and your family.
Amy has some great advice on hospice, as hard as that decision is. We emotionally struggled with it for too long when my mother was in her final decline, but once she moved there we knew it was the right decision.
Hope all goes as well as it can under the circumstances, and best wishes for you and your father, Susie.
Susan,
I’m so, so sorry about your father. All my thoughts and hopes are with you for a good outcome, whatever that will be. The other posters have said things better than I can.
aimai
All the best to you and your dad. My sister is dying from advanced breast cancer as I type. Nothing works. This part of life sucks.
David, Suze,
All we can do is be present, listen like hell and try to honor our lives and theirs. And be grateful for who we are and what they gave us.
I’ll say a pray for him. I lost both my parents to pancreatic cancer. Every day counts.
Stay positive Susan. Your family’s in my prayers.
I’m praying for him (and you)
Good luck, Susie and to you too David. “No expectations” is the way to go. I’ll be thinking good thoughts for you.
Hospice is wonderful and the sooner the better. Make sure the very busy nurses still attend to your family—pain medication should be given early before any procedures , like before resp treatments,etc. Good luck and may love bring your family together.
(While recognizing the good intentions…) couldn’t we all hold off on discussions of hospice care for Susie’s father until we hear about the results of the surgery, and subsequent prognosis (that is, assuming Susie chosses to share those details with us)?
Our thoughts are with you.