Just When You Think . . .

It can't get any worse . . .

Dad has quickly digressed since he has been taken off steroids. Within the last 24-hours, his headaches have returned and he has lost control of his left side again. Mom called minutes ago letting me know of the quick downturn. He has been crying with pain, asking for morphine and unable to move. Hospice will arrive today and will hopefully provide him with a hospital bed and other tools to aid him, as well as medications to make him more comfortable.

Fort Worth Evangelical Examiner--That's Me!

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Thanks for your help!

Dad Is at Home

Dad came home yesterday. As far as I understand, hospice will be visiting today, evaluating needs and what not.

Please keep both my dad and mom in your thoughts and prayers. They are dealing with this reality in different ways; my mom is especially having a hard time.

For now, that is all to report. Hopefully, we will get a break from bad news!

A Case of the Weirds

Just last night, I returned from Arkansas where I had traveled to spend time with my family. Here's what I learned:

Dad decided against the brain biopsy and any invasive treatment. His decision is understandable given the doctor could only promise a poor quality of life and maybe an extra six months of life if he pursued biopsy, radiation, and what not. Because of swelling in the brain, dad was given high dosages of steroids to reduce edema. However, the steroids threw his insulin production out of whack; so his blood sugar levels are high. This is the sole reason he remains in the hospital. The doctor is trying to find a dosing regimen of diabetic medicine to stabilize his blood sugar levels . . . without dad having to receive insulin shots at home. Hopefully, this will be resolved within two or three days. When he is released, he will be on hospice. His case manager has been by at least a couple of times to start the process.

While I was there, two of my dad's sisters, my grandmother, and a cousin came for a visit. And my sister was there as well. We had a nice time with them, given the circumstances!

It is true, no one can prepare you for this--the terminal illness of a parent. And in my situation, the emotions are complicated by a painful relationship with my dad. When people ask how I feel, I usually say: "fine," "okay," "hanging in there," but what I really want to say is: "Weird. I feel weird." Here's what I mean . . . A good friend of mine just gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. I was thinking about the pregnancy. You find out the due date; you know approximately when the event will take place. Then for the next several months, you prepare . . . plan . . . watch the body for signs "the day" is nearing. Each day you think about the baby's arrival. You are waiting for birth. I feel the same way, except I'm waiting for death. Planning, preparing, always thinking about it, straining for signs to see if the body is close. And that is just a weird feeling. That's what I mean by weird.

Yet even in the weirdness of uncharted waters, I know I am not alone and certainly do not feel alone. God has grown kinder, bigger, and more gracious than I ever imagined. I always knew He was good, but this good is blowing my mind. And that is a great "problem" to have.

Tough Day for Me

Not to sound too pathetic, but today is a tough day . . . for me, at least.

As of right now, dad has decided to forego the biopsy, which means any treatment will be forfeited as well. Thus, if he sticks with this decision, I anticipate hospice being the next step.

The day is tough in the sense of preparing for the road ahead. My mom is firmly grasping onto denial, finding it hard to swallow the terminal reality of the situation. This, of course, makes it hard for us kids to get much accomplished in the way of preparation. But hey--this isn't easy for anyone. One day at a time, right?

Tina is already in Arkansas, and I leave shortly to join her. Please keep me in your prayers as I navigate a difficult week.

The Evening Update

The neurologist, who was consulted by the oncologist, said the biopsy was possible, but waved some caution flags. The procedure does pose a few risk (but what procedure doesn't!) such as potential damage to the brain, etc. The oncologist, who Bryan says are always a bit more aggressive, is mildly leaning towards having the biopsy done. If successful, then the docs will know what kind of cancer exactly we are dealing with. The tumor is 4.2 centimeters, which means either the most recent MRI took better images or the tumor has grown a bit in the last week. The neurologist also painted a picture of prognosis, saying with aggressive treatment, dad has up to one year to live, albeit with a poor quality of life. If nothing is done, he has up to six months to live.

If the biopsy happens, it will occur on Monday.

More Bad News

Dad's oncologist has run many tests on dad yesterday and today. He has consulted a neurosurgeon to determine if the tumor can be biopsied.

The neurosurgeon came in today to say the jury is still out on the biopsy. However, he did shed some light on the situation, giving dad six months to live with no treatment and a 5% chance of living a year with treatment.

So, we are digesting that information, and waiting to see what they say about a biopsy.