hanging out with dad at radiation this week has been interesting, to say the least. my sister actually bought me a cocktail at crapplebee's last night to thank me for doing it, since the sight of needles makes her nauseous and lord knows they use pop as a pin cushion.
a lot of the other patients are nice and i like chit chatting with them. there are a few men who are in for prostate radiation, who always come alone because the side effects aren't so awful. i suspect my pop is getting a much bigger blast of radiation as well, but no one will confirm or deny this. i usually knit or embroider out in the waiting room, make small talk with the other patients, fetch cups of ice water for dad. yesterday i went with him for everything, which meant watching them take more blood (he clots so well that most of the time they take it once then come back and say, "um, we need more."), pump him full of a medication that is supposed to save his salivary glands, and watch him nearly barf taking the anti-emetic (irony!). he has exactly five more treatments and i can assure you that's he's as excited as he can be for this to end. he's tired and lost his voice and more of his hair, that radiation sunburn is becoming more red and evil looking by the minute and this week alone he lost two pounds in one day. all he wants right now is for this to be over and to be able to taste thanksgiving dinner. we were talking the other night about his treatment and wondering if in twenty years they'll look back on this kind of cancer treatment as barbaric and old-fashioned. all they can really do now is kill cells and excise tumors. it's mass carnage; blast it all with massive doses of radiation and hope it doesn't come back. civilian cells along with rogue ones go down, and the side effects are lousy. pump your body full of poison and cross your fingers.
what bothers me more than seeing him miserable is not getting a straight answer out of anyone about his prognosis. no one will commit to any sort of odds; is this going to cure him? what are his chances of it returning? how long will it take before he feels better? is all of this worth it? what happens next? no one wants to talk about it and the doctors and nurses say things like "we'll just have to wait to and see," or "it really depends on *fill in the blank*." i understand that they don't want to treat him or his cancer like a number, but it would be nice to know in more concrete, mathematical terms, what we're dealing with. at least, i think so. if they gave us bad news i might now want to know. maybe i should scrap this paragraph...
my week in cancerland has been eye-opening. i've said it before and it holds true; a diagnosis of cancer doesn't magically cure familial issues. i've seen fights in the waiting room, one guy telling his mom to "fuck off" because she pissed him off, one guy ignoring his wife's request to move her wheelchair a few inches back, little spats over stupid shit. however, i have to say that even if pop makes me mad or snaps at me i pretty much never argue with him in public. i'd rather die than yell at him in the radiation waiting room. no matter how unreasonable or jerky the cancer patient might be acting you pretty much look like a major douchebag when you yell at them. i should print up pamphlets to that effect. "don't yell at your cancer patient, you look like an ass." they might be evil incarnate, but put an old lady in a hospital gown and freaking out on her in public and you will indeed look like a slimeball. i'm not saying we all need to be having hallmark moments, but you can let it slide if they raise their voice or tell you not to interrupt. one guy actually yelled at his mom, "it's all about you, isn't it?" and i wanted to say, "um, yeah. when you get the shit radiated out of you, you can act like an ass then." jeez.
speaking of cancerland, i have to go take a shower and get ready to go. today pop is having a coffee shake on the way up there, and i need to finish midge's baby blanket since her sweetie is due in about a month.
p.s. i just bought this and it makes me crazy happy. i've been meaning to order it for a while, and realized hey, now would be a good time. subversive cross stitch rules, and i think a kit would make an awesome christmas present for any crafter you know. not only are they amazing and funny, but it will give them something cool to work on.
4 comments:
A hint at keeping food (partially) tasty...have your pop use plastic cutlery, it cuts down on the metallic taste Ca patients deal with during treatment.
From the standpoint of someone in the medical profession, we never tell patients, yes, this will work for you or no, it won't because, unfortunately, we just don't know. We know a lot about the human body and disease process, but what works for joe and betty might not work for bob. Believe me when I say that we would love to be able to tell you that x treatment is going to make it all better. We want for x treatment to make it all better. Especially when x treatment has nasty side effects.
I'm sorry your pop and you and the rest of your family are having to go through this. I hope this works and your Pop lives long enough to meet his great grand children.
Megan
I've been thinking about y'all, but haven't said much. I'm glad the treatments are almost over, and I think it is awesome that you're accompanying your Pop.
Regarding prognoses, the only time I got a straight answer out of anyone was when I talked with my mom's neurologist and asked him directly, "how long do you think she has left to live?"
This was after her cancer had come back once (after 12 years in remission), so we were in totally, totally different territory than you are now. It was evident that she probably was not going to be able to beat it (same type, same location) a second time. So it was appropriate to ask that question, given the writing on the wall.
So I understand your frustration firsthand, but I also understand Megan's point--more now than I did when I was going through this with my mom. So much of medicine is still trial and error and hope.
I really love what you've written here about how cancer doesn't stop the crap that bubbles up between people. It's so true, but so sad and unnecessary. But that can be said about most inconsequential crap that seems to come up and cause problems, cancer or no.
You write so well.. this post was awesome.
I really hope your dad gets well soon, he certainly deserves to after all that treatment. I can't help wondering if I'd be as brave in the same situation. I can just imagine how much easier it'd be to stay home and give up. He's lucky to have a daughter who can go with.. it sounds so tough.
Best wishes!
Tabitha99
Post a Comment