kdiddy.org

I feel kind of stupid mentioning how tired I am today when my dad underwent a six-hour surgery yesterday and had parts of his body removed, but I am tired.

I just talked to my dad a little bit ago. He’s on morphine, which is only kind of helping with the pain. The doctors have to hear back from pathology before they can tell us more, though they think he will need at least a little bit of chemotherapy.

I was at the hospital for about 12 hours yesterday, most of that spent in the waiting room watching soap operas and Oprah and the news and one of those dancing competition shows and Inside Edition and the news, all of which shared the screen with scrolling updates of the patients. I’m not sure how I got it in my head that his operation would only take an hour or two. That was stupid of me.

I did get some quality people-watching in, though it was obviously much more introspective and somber than my normal variety. A number of families were there waiting for loved ones who were also having cancer surgeries and throughout my long day there I got to hear the nurse on duty talk with each of them.

“He has a great family that cares about him. That’s 90% of the battle right there. Just take one day at a time.”

“He has a great family that cares about him. That’s 90% of the battle right there. Just take one day at a time.”

“She has a great family that cares about her. That’s 90% of the battle right there. Just take one day at a time.”

I began to dread hearing those words, especially since it was possible that she would rattle off her Yogi Berra/AA-hybrid speech to me, and especially since the cloud of that speech always settled like a hard mist on a family in shock. Newly devastated. Terrified.

I didn’t get to see my dad after surgery. He was in the recovery room for several hours while the nurses tried to get his pain under control. The husband and the baby had come after school and the baby needed to go to bed. I was feeling really raw this morning and flinched whenever someone spoke to me. I didn’t want to talk to anyone at work, since it all seemed especially meaningless and stupid.

About a day after I found out about my dad’s cancer, one of the guys in my grad program found out that his mom has cancer. Her prognosis is very grim, though, so I guess in the sick arena of My Parent Has Cancer, I win this round. He and I have been checking in on each other, though. Sitting next to each other class. I keep wanting to ask him if he feels since the same disconnect that I do when our classmates joke with each other. It seems weird that this whole thing doesn’t make me feel completely vulnerable and childlike. I just want him to be okay.

Anyway. Onward. Thank you everyone for all of your kind words and encouragement yesterday. My dad has a lot of people rallying around him, but every positive thought helps.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, October 21st, 2008 at 9:18 pm and is filed under life n'at, sigh. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.