Cancer

A little over 4 years ago my father was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer. Small cell carcinoma with an unknown primary to be exact. 6 weeks after his diagnosis he passed away. At home. In the bed provided by Hospice. The 6 weeks that we did have were the longest 6 weeks of my life. 5 weeks spent in the hospital. One week in the ICU on life support because his lungs were so filled with pneumonia and infection that he couldn't breath on his own. 4 weeks spent in and out of radiology, one round of chemo, and the rest so highly drugged that he was either alert enough to think that bugs were all over him or practically comatose. After he came out of the ICU, he recovered for one week in the hospital and then was able to go on comfort care and go home. He didn't even make it 24 hours at home, he passed the morning after being placed into his bed. 

The last word my Dad ever said to me were "am I going to die?" - these words were said when he was coming out of the drug induced coma in the ICU. Long enough to see if he could breathe on his own. I will never forget that moment. The image is forever burned into my mind and eyes. 

Over 4 years have passed and I have dealt with this loss. I have accepted the fact that my life will never be the same, that my children will never know their grandfather, that my dad will miss so many important milestones in my life. I have accepted that. Yes it's hard, yes it's gets easier, but it's still surreal. 

Moving forward to the current time, I am living in a world of dejavu. My uncle was recently diagnosed with cancer, about 6 weeks ago in fact. He has not been doing so well, and as of today he will be placed on Hospice in the next couple of days. He never received chemo or radiation. The doctors said the cancer is so far spread that all they can do is make him comfortable. You can't even begin to process things in that short amount of time. To think about what you are leaving behind: a wife, 2 children, and 4 grandchildren. A legacy, a future, all at an age that is far too young to die at. 

My heart hurts so bad every time I hear about Cancer. Maybe because I am incredibly sensitive to this disease and know that it can ravage the body and tear families apart and bring them to their lowest points. Maybe because it sucks. Cancer fucking sucks. Cancer seriously fucking sucks. Let's all accept that, regardless of if you enter remission or not cancer fucking sucks. 

I am overwhelmingly exhausted by loss in my life. The loss of those alive, dead, and dying. In full respect, I know that loss is a part of life. I accept that. For those people who have lived their life to the fullest and are ready to pass. Not for those who are 48, as my Dad was, or those in their 50's or 60's. You haven't lived your life and experienced all that it has to offer by then. Hell, you probably aren't even retired yet. Honestly, it isn't fair. It isn't fair to the people that don't get a chance to fight. The ones that have so little time they barely get to process what has happened before it ends. Before the world goes black, and you go to a better place. 

I find comfort in knowing that there is a better place. Anything is better than watching someone suffer so badly from the pain of having their body eaten alive by tumors and cancer. The comfort in knowing that they are pain free and no longer suffering. Comfort in having family to support you when you are suffering and trying to comprehend losing a major person in your life. Comfort in knowing that the time you had together was what was meant to be, and because of that time you have memories to cherish forever.  

The aftermath is the hardest. Once the funeral is over, real life has to begin again. You have to pick yourself up and go on with life. Everyone grieves differently. That should be respected and acknowledged. However, you can't just stop living your life and decide to hate everyone in it and the world because you are still alive. You get to live this life. Sure it's hard as hell, probably one of the hardest things you will ever do, but you do it. You do it because if you don't you'll go crazy. Learning to rely on those around you is the most important. Not everyday is going to be rainbows and butterflies, you will be lucky if you get a few of those a month for the first few months. But it does get easier, the pain goes away little by little and you become thankful for the time that you did have and the memories that you get to keep forever. Slowly life will resume like normal. 

After 4 years, I've gotten better about talking about my dad. It's always a reality check, like a little heart punch, when I tell someone that he died. They give you the sad face, and throw a little internal pity party and say they're sorry, but they really feel bad for you. And that's okay. After 4 years of telling people I still get the same reaction. And I've perfected my response to a simple "Thank You." 

~R