Cancer, My Dad, and Support

For someone who talks a lot, I haven't said very much for the past month. I just couldn't find the words. Just over 1 month ago my dad was admitted to the hospital with elevated levels of liver and pancreas enzymes, and other symptoms pointing to a blockage in a bile duct. That same night, we found out the blockage was possibly a tumour, and my world turned upside down. Because up to that point I had been fairly convinced that my parents were immortal. I was very sure that my dad did not deserve anything bad to happen to him. And I had no idea what I would do if this situation ended the way some situations with cancer do - with losing my dad. I still don't. And when I don't have the answers, and the words are physically painful when they come out of my fingertips onto the keyboard - writing was something I knew I should do, but couldn't bring myself to do.  But here I am. It took a month and three days, but here I am.

My dad has bile duct cancer. We are very lucky it appears to have been caught early and can be operated on. However the operation is a complicated one - a Whipple (fellow Grey's Anatomy fans will recognize that word - unfortunately, you hear about it because the doctors fight over that surgery, because it's so 'cool', sophisticated, and complicated). They will remove his gall bladder, part of his pancreas, part of his small intestine and the bile duct containing the tumour. Seems extreme for a thumbnail sized obstruction, no? I agree. But the "plumbing" in that area of the body is complex, and those digestive systems talk to one another quite a bit. So it seems a Whipple is a 'better safe than sorry', do what you have to with minimal damage kinda thing. Unfortunately my dad will be in recovery for 6-8 weeks, including some time in the ICU when the surgery is over. Complications happen in about 1/3 of cases, but the mortality rate from the surgery is a mere 2%, which is good news if you ask me. He will likely have chemo afterwards as a precaution, and regular scans probably for the rest of his life. The 5 year survival rate for this type of cancer is only 50-60%, but as my doctor friend Michelle says, numbers are just numbers and every case is unique. My dad is young, strong and healthy - he's got a good chance of landing on the right side of those odds.

There has been far too much waiting. Waiting in the hospital with him, passing the time with coloring books and sharing our annoyance about the doctors in the St. Catharine's hospital who would flit in for 30 seconds every morning and leave my family with more questions than they actually answered. Waiting for tests - ultrasounds, CAT scans, MRIs, ECRPs. Waiting for the results from tests. Waiting for his surgery to be booked. Waiting for surgery (Friday, May 27 - sorry Carden Challenge, but I don't know how to not be there for him and my mom). Waiting is the in-between of reality when your brain can be your best friend and protect you from worst case scenarios, or be your worst enemy and wander your thoughts down those roads that take you to scary places you don't want to stay very long. Some people cope by staying in the worst case scenario places so that bad news feels like good news ("it's bile duct cancer that's operable! not pancreatic cancer that's terminal!"), Some people cope by not visiting the bad places at all (though the crash down to reality afterwards is tougher, due to how high you were keeping your hopes). Me, I land somewhere in the middle. Don't go to the extreme bad places until you have to. Focus on the positive. But oh my goodness, friends, I am so scared. I feel so sad for my dad he has to go through this. Selfishly, I keep going back to "but I wanted another 20-30 years with him" - he's only 62. I sure do hope I get my time.

I have learned some lessons that I thought I'd share.

TELL THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE THAT YOU LOVE THEM. Do not hold grudges over small things - work to resolve problems as quickly as you can! Time here is limited, and far too short for petty grievances and hurt feelings getting in the way of real conversations and real love.

If you're like me and visit your out of town parents every ~1 month, why not try to throw in an extra visit in the middle. Life gets busy, but there is always time for the people who raised you and loved you and waited patiently through your temper tantrums, your crabby teenage years, and your slew of inappropriate boyfriends that you kept threatening to marry ;) You may not have the 20-30 years you are expecting (though I sincerely hope most of us get them).

Don't be naive to the fact that disaster can strike anytime. Don't live your life in fear, but realize that life is certainly not all peaches, roses, rainbows, etc - and if it has been for a long time like mine was, be even more prepared that it can't last forever. But definitely don't take how good you have it for granted - appreciate it every day.

As my friend Teva would say, live your life like a tornado! Drink it all in. Don't be afraid. Have fun. Experiment. Experience. Laugh. Love, Enjoy. Seriously folks - it's all a fucking random crapshoot, and we're all damn lucky to get to experience it - but the time limit on how long we get to stay here is a big question mark, so stop waiting and start living!

And my last lesson, the hardest one for me to talk about.. the one I should be texting you, messaging you, calling you to tell you... but I'm too shy(?) insecure(?) scared(?) to ask for what I need. I'm too bothered by the idea of inconveniencing you, that I just leave it alone. But here it is: I am someone who needs support in the form of chats, texts of good thoughts, laughs, visits with my friends and distraction by their thoughts, their lives, their stories. I am so incredibly grateful for the people who have forced "good times" on me over the past month. I have been so reluctant to say yes - why would you want to spend your Saturday night with me, with this big grey cloud hanging over my head?? But when you do, and we laugh and laugh, and enjoy ourselves, and talk about this crappy situation, but then move on and talk about hockey playoffs - it is so helpful, and healing and wonderful. I have no words to thank you for doing that for me.

I understand the fear of reaching out to someone having a tough time: I don't want to bother them when they're going through something big. I don't want to make them think about this scary situation if they're currently having an ok day, I don't want to be a pest. I better not.  Perhaps for some people this is true and they would appreciate the space (though honestly.. I highly doubt it.. and if they want the space, they will surely tell you and not begrudge you for asking!). For me.. space is not what I want. I felt lucky to get to apply this lesson this week, for friends going through something much more urgent and scary than this. I thought about making some food to drop off (cookies really do make everything feel a bit better.. I have enjoyed a lot of cookies lately...), but then thought: "but they're so busy; this is such an upsetting time; plus my friend REALLY hates pop-ins" (that's something we've always teased her about). I bet before my own realizations about support, I would have backed off for fear of offending or bothering them and just done nothing. But instead, Jeff will be dropping a care package at their place after work today, because on what planet would anyone mind getting cookies and a note to say "I'm thinking about you", even if we catch them at a tough moment or no one is home? It took me my own situation to realize this, though. Big lesson on supporting the people you care about, even when it's hard to know how, or they try to say no.

I want to send my sincerest thank yous for everyone who has said "if there's anything I can do, let me know". That means so much to me! To those who haven't said anything, that's totally ok too. It's hard to know what the hell to say!! Feelings are tough. Cancer is tough. Support is tough. And everyone is living their own busy, hectic lives and I know it's hard to keep every crisis at the front of your mind. Totally get it. From here forward I promise to ask for what I need when I need it, from those who have offered to be there when I need it. It's often not much more than a talk, a visit, a cup of tea, some friendly contact, or a safe, supportive place I can talk about what scares me and these myriad life lessons I keep getting punched in the face with every day. Thank you for offering, and I will do better to take you up on your incredible generosity and kindness. Jeff could probably use a break :) (sidenote to say he is the best husband in the entire world and I couldn't have gotten through any of this without his love and support! he is just amazing!).

Last lesson: life is all about love, the relationships your form, your friends, your family and the people in it. Cherish and honour those things as much as you can.

Today I'm going down to visit my parents in Niagara (lieu days are the best - I led a rainy nature tour in 9C/45 km/hr winds on Saturday so I definitely deserve this sunny day off!!). My dad is doing just fine. They put a stent in to make the bile flow through the blocked duct, and he even worked a shift at his job as a tour guide for wineries yesterday, and went golfing with his buddies last week and had the high score! Today I suggested we go glow in the dark mini putting, go to the casino, or to the wild bird kingdom in Niagara Falls (rainbow lorakeets land and poop on you - what could be more life affirming than that??). Or we may just sit out in the sunny backyard and be glad for life, for time together, and for good food and wine. I'm grateful for this day.

Thanks for reading. xoxo

Just feeling so lucky to have him as my dad!!! :*)