Body, Betraying
May 30th, 2005 at 5:50 am by Susie
Woke at 5:15 a.m. to a ringing phone. The adrenaline rushed through me in that way only a late-night phone call can cause - especially when you have a sick relative.
I felt a little nauseated when I got up. Checked the Caller ID (naturally, it was a stranger) and decided to check my email. Now the weird flashing lights have started and I’m seeing the crescent-shaped geometric pattern that signals the onset of a migraine. The only way I can see to type this is to close my left eye.
I hate when my body betrays me.
And speaking of.
I found out yesterday that everything they tested from my father was positive for malignancy - all the lymph nodes, all the tissue samples. It’s a particularly aggressive form, the surgeon said. (My sister said it seemed like he couldn’t wait to wash his hands of the matter.)
Assuming he makes it through the rest of his recovery OK, he’ll be home in a week or so. But they’re having trouble controlling his blood pressure and his now-high blood sugar. (He’ll have diabetes now for whatever time he has.)
Once he’s recovered, it’s time to see the oncologist and find out whether he’s a candidate for chemo - or hospice. Time will tell.
Sorry to hear about your father’s illness. I recently went through something similar with my mother. My prayers are with you and your family.
Sue, all my prayers go out to your father.
I just went through this with my father. Let us know what drugs the Dr.s may want to try-I’ve seen the reactions up close and personal
My thoughts are with you.
My thoughts will be with you and your Dad.
No matter what the oncologist says, take the time to talk to hospice as well.
I’m sorry to hear this.
Many surgeons have trouble dealing with anything that doesn’t involve cutting. The oncologist should be a whole different trip.
There are a lot of people in your comments who know what this is like, so make sure you exploit us, early and often. Whether your dad has a short time left, or a wonderfully long time - his comfort, independence, and dignity are all-important.
Your health and well-being? No less important. I wish I could do something that would be actually helpful, but I seem to only have a handful of words. I wish it was a handful of, say, thousand dollar bills, just to give you a break from the money crunch.
I’m sorry - that’s terrible news.
Surgeons don’t generally have winning personalities - hopefully his oncologist will better to work with. I found one has to be very involved to balance the point where you aggresively treat the cancer or switch to palliative care. With my mother we found it very difficult at the in between point - where you still want some treatment but not major interventions. Medical people seem to find that hard to deal with. The hospice people were the only ones who were competely straightforward and honest - everyone else dealt in euphemisms.
It’s a terrible place to be and it’s an utterly exhausting one. wish there was more I could or say to help.