We're Not Really Good At "Decembers"

Man, it looks like my family is just not have a good run when it comes to Decembers. Last year we had a loss in our family.

And this year, well...


A few weeks ago my dad started having some neck and back pains. At first he just wrote it off at a pinched nerve that would work it's self out. As the days progressed the pain increased. Finally after 3 weeks my dad was nearly bed ridden. But the Quack doctor he was seeing was insisting it was a nerve and kept drugging my dad up.

Finally Thursday night, around midnight my brother picked my dad up from the bathroom floor and drove him to the ER. A shot or two of morphine and my dad stabilized, the blinding headaches and nausea subsided. It was shortly after that they did the MRI. It turns out that my dad has a tumor the size of his thumb on his on his cerebellum right by the Brain Stem (the part where your spinal cord connects to your brain).



The doctors say it is superficial, but the problem is that the tumor is sitting in a position that any blood flow to the area causes it to swell essentially crippling my dad with headaches. Translation: any time my dad gets up, moves, or turns his head the tumor gets pissed. Luckily the steroids they have him on are keeping it in check.

there was supposed to be an emergency brain surgery done on Friday, but the found out that my dad had an infection in his system, and the meds the Quack was giving him masked it (this also made it harder to figure out what it was.) Because this infection has been so damn tricky we've spent every day (Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday) thinking that day was going to be the day of the surgery.

The final word as of today is that the surgery is supposed to be Tuesday, they finally identified the virus/infection.
E-coli!
WTF? Yeah, I guess he's had it for months and it just never bothered him. I swear this guy is a frigg'n take, it took his brain to nearly explode to finally put him down...

you know, that's actually the hardest part about all this. My father has always been the rock in our family. No matter what was happening, no matter where we were, we have always depended on him to be strong for us all. Now, he's the one that's sick and everyone is feeling lost. My brother is taking on the majority of the responsibility of keeping everyone updated but, it's taking it's toll on him. My mom has worried her self sick, and with her surgery coming up in a few weeks we can't afford to let her keep worrying her self.

As for me, well, I'm waiting. If everything goes well I'll let my brother continue to take control of this one, but if anything goes south. Even though I'm staying positive I know that there's a lot to go wrong here. I mean, the three options are he could Live and be back to his old self again, he could die (he is getting up there in years), he could be paralyzed, or he could become a veggie. If any of these worst case scenarios arise it will fall on me to make the decision on what to do.

Years ago my dad and I were working on a landscaping job at a hospital for the terminally ill. As we were wet stacking a wall there was a rhythmic moaning coming from the window we were working next to. It turns out it was a kid, probably 16 years old, who, from birth, spent every day on a ventilator and groaned. As we worked we heard him choking on his own saliva. My dad turned to me and whispered "promise me that if I'm ever in that condition you to let me live like that." I had him make me the same promise.

And what of my dad you ask? Would you belief that he is showing absolutely no signs of illness. He's spry, up beat, anxious to get out, and flirting with every single female nurse who comes in the room and the traffic is constant. I swear he's two steps away from throwing rubber gloves on the floor just to watch them bend over. He's completely up beat about the surgery, usually joking about it. (part of me knows it's a show to make us feel comfortable, but I don't' think anyone else needs to know that.)

So now we wait, the surgery is coming soon, and there's nothing left to do but to wait... The surgery and recovery time should be around 3 or 4 hours.
as it turns out those are going to be some of the longest hours of our lives.


So wish the big guy luck tomorrow











Oh, and BTW, the Quack Doctor still hasn't called my dad back about getting an MRI done... Yeah, this guy wanted my dad to do physical therapy for 3 weeks, my dad would have been dead by then.



Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com