Requiem Part 2

It's been more than a week since Dad's death.

We held the funeral in the beautifully redone St. Mary's. That Dad never got to see finished...

I've been back to school.

But it's not the same.

It never will be.

Even if it's something in the back of my head,

Reminding me when I wake up.

About that terrible year that Dad's life was slowly sucked away.

He died on January 30th, a few days before Groundhog's Day, which would've been the anniversary of the last time he walked and the last time we took him to the hospital.

Because after that we wouldn't let him leave home.

I can't believe that after that year, in the course of 365 days, that he is so gone.

Everyday, I wake up,
And I'm reminded for a moment,
For the pain a man suffered,
And the inevitable loss his family felt as he died.
I say to myself, "My Dad is dead.
I have one parent who's dealing with the intensity of her own loss,
Which I must say is alot stronger for her."

But everyday, when I go to bed, I try to remember who he was before the cancer.
I remember this quote that has been repeated many times upon Dad's death.

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have
kept the faith.

And I ask myself,
Would he be proud of me right now?

Requiem

When I came home Monday, Dad was unresponsive, laying there, in the hospital bed we had moved into the bedroom a week earlier. A priest was standing over Dad as I walked in, speaking some sort of blessing over him. I joined my family around him. Tears flowed freely as we realized how close our dear father was to death.

Over the course of the day, Dad miraculously sustained somewhat stable conditions while family and friends arrived at house. Mom's friend Beth, and Gary's father, Don. Dad survived the night, but remained unresponsive and of declining, hopeless health. By the end of the next day, Uncle David, Uncle Brian, Uncle Jeff, Aunt Kim, and Aunt Amy, as well as a few of their spouses. We convened in Dad's bedroom, sitting by him, standing watch.

His whole family was there in the house.
His wife, laying next to him on the hospital bed, squeezed up against the metal bars.
His siblings, scattered around the bedroom, or throughout the house helping.
His dad, sitting solemnly in the armchair.
His kids, kissing him goodnight and sleeping on the floor to be near to him.
Even his dog Yogi was there, sitting vigilantly next to him on the bed.

A hospice nurse came by, and estimated that he could last a couple of days. By Wednesday, Mom began to prepare us, telling us she anticipated Dad's death sometime that night. But he held on.

By Thursday, Gary's vitals were decreasing. Not shocking, but an ominous sign of his imminent death. Mom, with more certainty this time, told us Dad would probably die during the night. But he held on.

On Friday, a chaplain from St. Luke's came by and prayed a blessing over Dad. Mom cried silently into Dad's shoulder. The chaplain left. And suddenly, Dad's breathing became astoundingly shallow. Mom called us over, intuiting her husband's last moments. His kids came to him and held his hand, whispering "I love you, Dad"s as Gary passed away.

It was no surprise, really, to anybody.

Somehow I thought that would soften the blow.

It didn't.

The problem here is that this is more than the death of a father, or a husband, or a brother, or a son. It's so much more. Words fail to explain it.

(to be continued?)

Just When It Was Supposed To Be A Happy Ending... (Part 3)

Dad was incapable of moving around on his own for that week. We had to carry him around in a wheelchair.

But it wasn't permanent. Eventually, his ankle, which had been sprained after all, got better, and things are almost back to how it was before last Thursday.

But something bothered me...

While Dad was in the wheelchair, I remember, we got our christmas tree and set it up, and began to work on the ornaments. I remember getting out Dad's first Christmas ornament and hanging it up. Dad, from his wheelchair, watched intently. I realized that no matter what happens, Gary is never going to be hanging ornaments again.

That may seem like a small revelation, but the terrible part of it is that it also means I know he won't ever be able to do so many other things. He's too handicapped to ride a bike, communicate, jump, you name it, he'd need help to do it.

So all this worries me.
I feel like we're running out of time.
And we've got no way of getting it back.

I've seen people pray and hope for Dad's health and recovery, but I know that things are beyond that. I hope that Dad dies dignified and proud, feeling good about everything that he's left about. Let's hope for that.

Just When It Was Supposed To Be A Happy Ending... (Part 2)

I rushed downstairs. Things weren't looking good. Mom and Dad had been staying in the basement, and Dad was in the bedroom, door closed. Mom was teary-eyed on the armchair, talking to Grandpa Don. I knew what had happened. Dad had had some seizures, got incredibly weak, and Mom took him to bed.

I sat with Mom for a bit, trying to comfort her. She told me a little bit of the story - Dad, although his walking had improved over the last couple of weeks, as of tonight, couldn't seem to walk. After a while, she asked me to leave so that she and Grandpa could talk.

I complied and went up to my room, trying to understand what this meant. I had gotten so used to how things had been for the past months... this was such a shock, and obviously really bad. It looked like things were going to change for the worse. I cried a bit myself, overwhelmed by the unfairness of it all. It really is terrible, especially for a man like Gary. It's hard to describe.

Eventually the night came to a gradual end. Beth and Alyssa and all their friends and relatives left for home. I packed it in for the night downstairs. I was still sleeping down there while Grandpa was in town. As if sleeping wouldn't be hard enough in my own bed.

But that's not what kept me up.

Dad got up around midnight to go to the bathroom. He fell. It woke me up with a shock. I put his arm around my neck and lifted him up. He could barely support his own weight, even with me helping. Eventually, though, I got him back into his bed.

Unfortunately, he did the same thing in an hour, and this time with worse results. He fell, again, and hurt his foot. I came in and helped him back into bed again. His foot was in pain, and it seemed pretty bad. He was barely be able to move around without it hurting. But there wasn't anything we could really do about it. It was his bad foot. Getting it cast, even if it was broken, wouldn't help us. I went back to bed. I still had to get up in six hours.

As if the situation wasn't bad enough already...

Just When It Was Supposed To Be A Happy Ending... (Part 1)

I should've known. It was too perfect of a day - something had to go wrong...

It was Thursday. The school day went smoothly, and Troy and I waited after school for the Christmas concert. I bought some food for Troy and some friends down at Subway. We came back, and the band started showing up.

We tuned and started the concert. The concert was short, but we did pretty good. We played several old classic christmas carols and then transitioned into more contemporary christmas music - Christmas Time Is Here, Adeste Phidelius, Manheim Steamroller Silent Night, and we finished it off with Wizards in Winter. That last song was the best. Troy, on his guitar, got up center stage with the bass and rocked out.

At any rate, afterwards I hung out with my friends and watched the wrestling match in the Carley Center. Troy took me home.

We had a lot of guests over that night. That's the reason that Mom and Dad didn't make it to the Christmas concert. Really busy night for them. My mom's best friend is Beth, and her daughter Alyssa is a friend of the family living here in Boise. It was Alyssa's birthday Thursday, and consequently, most of her family showed up in our house to celebrate it.

It was kind of awkward walking in - I barely know any of them at all, save Alyssa and Beth. I quickly worked my way through the mass of visitors with drinks in their hands to find Beth.

"How's it going Beth?"
"Good, you?"
"Good." I looked around. "Hey, where's Mom and Dad?"
She sighed. "They're downstairs. Your Dad had a rough night..."

Shit...

Good News

"Good news is blowin' in your window
Good news is knockin' on your door
Good news is comin' round the corner
Good news is rollin' round your floor...."

I really didn't think I'd get to say it, but Dad is getting better and better. He's now able to walk fairly well. His speech still suffers but it slowly and steadily makes progress as well. They took an MRI recently and the tumors had shrunk. Everything is getting better. Even some of his hair is growing back. It really makes me happy to see him these days and be able to watch him recover.

This opens up new possibilities for the family. Before this last month or so, Dad had to constantly be watched and cared for and there would be no taking him anywhere. I can't imagine what it's been like for him... but Mitzi took him to the park the other day for a walk and he did well. We're talking about taking him up to McCall. If things keep improving we could take him to dinner or movies or vacations even.

While it's true that Dad doesn't need to be cared for anymore, he shouldn't be left alone either. He should still be watched. With all this happening this obviously means that we're not thinking weeks and months here anymore. We may still have him for many months and even years. We've been getting by on Gary's insurance (he's still taking care of us, isn't that sweet?) but it's obvious that we can't go on like this. Mom had left her work to take care of Gary, but she's going back to work now, and she talks about maybe hiring a companion for Dad (family reading this, keep it on the down-low. That means you Brian!). It's almost as if things are going back to normal...

So Mom's going back to work, Dad's getting better, and everything's turning up for the better!

"Good news Comin' down the chimney
Good news Knockin' on my door
Good news Leavin' through the window
Good news Can't take no more
Good news Spreadin' all the country
Good news For the young and old
Good news Goin' round the world, now
Good news Too hard to hold back..."

Another piece of lesser good news is that I finally found my camera, so once I get it to hook up to this dam computer right, you can expect some more pictures and such.

"Good news....
Good news...." - Randy Newman

The Situation With Dad

It starts with a Dance.
What makes it worse about Gary is just what a man he is.
If ever there were saints, he's one of them.
If ever there were scholars, he's one of them.
If ever there were good fathers, he's one of them.
And if ever there was true love... Gary and Mitzi have it.

So it's really quite tragic to see him diminished to what he is now - speech is incredibly difficult for him, and he has trouble moving around.

I will never forget that week under the maple tree with friends and family, near and distant, all come together to toast to Gary, the man they all know and love dearly.

So a toast! To Gary! A good Father. A good Husband. A good Doctor. And a Saint.

My Avuncular Friend Brian

Well my avuncular friend came to visit last week, mostly to visit Gary and help out our family. While he was there, he was a big help - he drove me to school, helped with the dishes, took Gary to therapy, and more. He was a big help to say the least.

And of course it's always interesting to see my Uncle Brian. He's just such a character. Having a conversation with him is truly like a battleground. He plays with words and cynicism and humor like no other man I know can. It's... inspiring.

Brian, you know what I'm talking about.

Smartass....

Anyway, I just want to give a shoutout - Thank you Brian! You have helped so much more than you needed to and you've helped the family so much. You are welcome anytime at our household and you know that we love to see you. No promises about the roof though...

May

Some of you are probably wondering why I haven't written in so long. It's been ten days since my last May post. Here's the thing - it's not easy anymore. It's becoming especially more difficult to blog, what with very limited computer use both at school and at home, not to mention the things piling up on my plate right now. When it comes down to it, it can be listed like this:

An upcoming concert and a broken instrument

An unfortunate breakup

A fiddler on the roof

That fiddler in an in-school suspension

My avuncular friend, Brian

A story that needs finishing

Finals, essays, tests, and grades

And... a less than ideal situation at home with Gary.

With any luck, I will get to tell you all of these stories. My life hasn't stopped, but I haven't been fortunate enough to put my life down on the computer screen yet. I apologize for the absence. Keep reading though. My story's far from over...

Back from McCall

In celebration of the end of radiation, our family and Troy went up to our cabin in McCall this weekend. It was a short trip but Troy, Andy, and I all got to get one last day of skiing in at Tamarack. I'll probably give you some pictures and videos of that at some point.

At any rate, Dad seems to be doing pretty well. He's still not quite himself, but I can't expect that so soon after finishing radiation. He's still taking plenty of medications to help him. But my point is, he is recoverng, however slowly. That's all I can wish for.

This week will be somewhat busy. I have a BK band concert and tour in the middle of the week as well as a shadow on Wednesday. I'll make sure I'll get some footage from the concert for all of you. Hopefully I'll come up with something to write about too. Because I'm stuck. Ah well.

Such is the life of a blogger.

Last Day Of Radiation

Today was Dad's last day of radiation. We've come a long way since Groundhog's Day. It's been more than two months. As many of you know, my Dad, Gary, has been taking radiation treatment for a while now. And today was his last day.

He's doing alright now. He's still not quite himself, and won't be for about a week. But then, if everything goes well, he will be himself again. He'll recover.

Well it's in fate's hands now. I'll keep him in my prayers.

Once In A Dream

The best waking moments of my life seem to be those that are more like dreams.

I haven't been dreaming lately. This saddens me. Maybe it's because of all that's been going on. Dad's been having more seizures at home and Mom is kind of stressed due to that. And somehow I find myself trying out for a play and organizing a talent show at the same time. And I'm trying to hang out with my friends more, but there's just not enough time to do all this and have any time at the end of the day to relax a little.

What bothers me most is Dad. I've had trouble getting to sleep since a couple of days ago when he started having trouble again. I'm just so worried. People tell me to try to be optimistic and hopeful, but I can't help but wondering how this story will end. He's going to be starting radiation soon. My friend Sam had a Dad go through cancer. He told me never to see Dad go through radiation. He said seeing his dad go through it still gave him nightmares.

What to think in these troubled times? The most comforting thing I can ever do is lay my head down on a pillow and be whisked away by imagination. Sometimes I wonder whether heaven is just one eternal dream. A reverie, ever-changing and morphing to what the thinker wants it to be. And sometimes what the thinker needs, but doesn't realize. There are truly infinite possibilities in the realm of dreams, and every one is unique and meaningful. I've come up with songs before in my sleep. They were better than anything I've written awake.

There are two other comforting thoughts (memories really) I can look at. A flashback to that moment in the St. Joe's Church. Dad had just taken the anointing of the sick. He came and sat back down next to Mom. We all held onto each other, and for a golden, hopeful moment, everything was gone.

And a dream. A single dream from long ago. Micheal and Jessica and Andy and Mom and Dad and me, hugging in a beautiful, bittersweet moment. And behind us is a montage of all the happy places we've been together. Seattle, Maui, Lake Cushman, the list goes on. And when it goes black, we're still there, hugging.

Things are what you make of them. But dreams are what your soul makes of you.

Recovery Through CoFSM

It's been a few days since the Groundhog's incident now, and I've been getting on pretty well. Considering, anyhow (If you don't know, read my 'Groundhog's Day' post).

Best thing to do now is of course to try to pray that things return to normal. It helps me to take up some new interests and make some new friends; it gets my minds off things. In fact I've taken up a brand new interest that is quite interesting. Have you ever heard about the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster? I'm gonna go into this in more depth later.

At any rate, just a few notes. Don't be surprised if I don't post as often as I used to, I'll probably only do 15 in a month now. And don't think I'm heartless because I'm not continually posting about Gary. I don't want to depress you. "Laugh and the world will laugh with you. Cry and you cry alone."

Groundhog's Day

(St. Lukes Hospital)

I awoke this morning to the sound of Andy desperately whispering to me, "Wake up Joe! Dad's having another seizure!" In a sense of disbelief, I put on some clothes haphazardly and walked into the master bedroom. There was Gary, on the bed, twitching and breathing with difficulty, almost wheezing. Mom was right there too. She's a nurse and called the paramedics as soon as she figured out what was happening. After a few confused moments, watching in pain, they arrived, carried Gary outside onto a stretcher, and put him in the ambulance.

We knew the way and were there before they were. And as soon as they came, we were able to see Dad and comfort him. It was a long time in the hospital before I finally took a look at a clock. It wasn't even 4 AM in the morning, and we had spent an hour or so awake already. And we had spent most of that time standing there in the hospital room next to Dad. We all cried and held hands and tried to comfort each other. I didn't know what to think, and that was partly due to the fact that every single thing that runs through your head in a situation like this seems infinitely inappropriate. And you can't think of anything to do or say to make anything better. What are you supposed to do?

We spent three hours in the hospital. Dad got a CT scan and they sent us home at six so we could all get some sleep. None of us know what this means yet. It could mean radiation. It could mean more powerful pills. It could mean anything. But I'm gonna hope it means nothing. And I'll try to start over today. I don't want this to ruin everybody. If we indeed have limited time with our loved ones, we should spend minimal amounts of it weeping. Comforting, always. I hope to God that this is just a sign, a warning, anything but bad news.

Meet the Family

Note - Gary, my dad, is not in this picture. He was the one taking it.

This is my immediate family, as well as my aunt, uncle, and cousin. Not my only ones, but they live here in Boise, so I get to see them alot more than most of my extended family. (Most of them are in California.) And I will now describe them in no particular order.

Jessica - My sister of 22. She always liked me and is very nice. She is good company and enjoys girly things like clothes and makeup. She also enjoys partying with Micheal on a regular basis. She goes to college at BSU and owns a little house about a mile away from ours. She visits often, but I can tell that she's starting to get a life of her own now that she's an adult.

Micheal - My brother of 20. He is strong, philosophical, if somewhat arrogant. He is funny and great conversation. I don't get to see too much of him anymore because he goes to college in St. John's in Minnesota, but I miss him every second that he's gone. One of my favorite characters in my life.

Me - Oh come on. It's on the sidebar.

Andy - My brother of 13. This is one of the most competitive, athletic people I know. He's on year-round swim team, some sort of plus soccer team, as well as having played most of the other sports out there. He's somewhat annoying and malicious, but I have faith that he's going to mature and be a good person someday.

Mitzi - My mother of ??? She is really a great Mom. She's always been really caring, and how I was brought up really made me a good person. And a lot of it comes from her. She's never really does things if she doesn't think that it's right. She's got a great sense of right and wrong, and a great will to follow the first one. Besides that, she's a nurse working under a neurosurgeon at St. Luke's Hospital.

Gary - (not shown) My father of ??? He as well is a great Dad. He was the religious factor in the family, and was an outspoken Catholic to try to teach us about his faith. He is a doctor - anesthesiologist - and works at St. Luke's as well. I think Dad told me he met Mom over a patient. He really is brilliant, much smarter than I am. He recently was diagnosed with cancer, but he's taken some chemo and if things continue as they are, it could be normal again. I love him so much, and hope that it will be normal again.

Later: Amy, Kurt, and Ali.

Gary

That's me and my dad, Gary, in McCall, having a great time. The picture was taken a while ago, but I want to make a point. When I left for McCall, I got some comments from a few friends about it. "Good for you. You've seemed kind of stressed lately." Looking back, it was true.

I wish I could blame this is all on the school system, but I can't. And there's no easy way to say this. A couple of weeks ago, my dad (in the picture) had a seizure. He was rushed to the hospital as soon as possible. I was asleep. I didn't wake.

That same day after school my mom explained to me what happened. They had taken an MRI of his head and found the cause of the seizure.

Cancer.

What they found was a large tumor, too big to take out. We had actually known there was an abnormal growth in his brain about a year before this happened, but this was the first time it had actually bothered him. The hospital said that they were going to have to take a snippet of the tumor out to see if they could treat it at all. So after a couple of days, we came back to the hospital and walked Gary into the surgery room. We then waited for more than two hours for the surgery to finish. My sister Jessica was there, as well as my little brother Andy. And of course Mom. She was very calm about all of this. We all waited patiently for him.

After two hours, they told us that they had a sufficent sample of the cancer and the surgery was done. Over the weekend, we repeatedly went and visited him in the hospital. My uncle Kurt and aunt Amy came with their daughter Ali to visit him as well. He smiled at all of us when we came in. Mom slept on the ground in his room the first night to keep him company.

His speech was temporarily limited and he had staples in three areas of his head where they had gone in. Now the staples are out and his speech is recovered. We still don't know what the cancer is like. They said that it was probably low-grade, but that's good news and bad news at the same time. It may be slow-growing, but lower-grade cancers are difficult to treat. So there's nothing we can do but help him recover. Hope. Pray.

This is when I need my friends the most.


"And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love." - Jesus Christ