Chapter 5

Dad recovered at home for the next week or so before radiation on the brain began, but on the Wednesday morning when he was to start radiation I went to see him and could tell he was not right.  He looked very pale, almost grey and he was having trouble standing, he was very uneasy on his feet.  I called my mom at the shop and told her she better come home and stay with him until they had to leave, and then I left.  I went home and the pit in my stomach just grew.. Next thing I knew I got the call from mom, again I felt like time stood still as she spoke.  I felt like I was moving in slow motion as I ran out to Mike in the shop to tell him that my dad had collapsed.  The drive to their house felt like it took forever, but the sound of mike’s tires squeeling as he turned corners, and the sound of his engine screaming as he stepped on the gas trying to get us there as soon as possible.  As we drove towards Queen street I could see Andy racing towards us with his 4 way flashers blinking in my eyes I swear I could see the look on his face as he turned in front of us and we both raced down the street towards mom and dad’s house doing speeds in excess of 80km/hr I’m sure.  Our truck came to rest half way up the drive and Andy’s truck in the middle of the front lawn.  When we ran through the front door of the house dad was laying in the front hallway on the floor.  He was alert and could talk and tell us that he was just feeling dizzy and lightheaded.  Ok, so this wasn’t so bad, he probably just hadn’t eaten and was worried about his first treatment, right? Nothing else could happen, this was just something as simple as that.  As we were discussing what to do, the doorbell rang and a neighbor from down the street who was a nurse stood in the doorway.  “I seen you both come racing up the street and run into the house” she said, “I knew something had happened and I just had to come and see if I could help at all”.  She looked down to see dad laying on the floor and bent over him to speak.  She asked him how he was feeling, and she grab his wrist to take his pulse.  She could tell something was off, so the decision was made to call 911.  Here we go again, it was as if I was reliving the same event that had taken place just a few short weeks ago. 

There was another frantic call made to me about dad, there was another ambulance ride, there was hope, and fear and worry about what we would hear next.  At this point, we were still just starting and I felt like I couldn’t take anymore.  This was ruining my life.  My whole being was consumed with my dad’s disease.  I couldn’t eat, or sleep without thinking about it, or even run simple errands in town without someone stopping me to ask how he was, or how my mom was.  I wasn’t sure exactly what people expected me to say, I was getting so tired of explaining the events of the day over and over again to each and every person who I seen.  It came to the point that I wanted to avoid the general public all together.  Simple trips to the post office turned into me sitting in my car waiting until there was no one I knew in sight and then making a mad dash with my head down in to pick up my mail and then back to the car.  This had become my life. 

When we arrived at the hospital dad was already in the ER and when we were finally able to speak to a doctor we were told that his oxygen and blood pressure were dangerously low, and his heart rate was extremely high.  Blood Tests had shown the doctors that his kidneys were not working properly and his liver counts were way off.  The day could only get worse as the doctor informed us that this could be a sign that the cancer is spreading and more test would have to be run to rule this out.  He was admitted into the ICU and monitored closely for the next few days as more testing was done.  As we sat at his bedside in ICU, it reminded me of being in the same exact room just about a year earlier with Mike’s dad.  He had suffered from heart problems and was in ICU in critical condition.  To come full circle in less than a year first being there with my father in law and now my own father, I couldn’t help but think that Dave had made it out, and so would my dad. 

Testing showed that dad’s gall bladder was infected and he needed surgery to have a drain installed to let the infection drain out.  Sounded easy enough, dad was by trade an electrician and knew the plumbing world as second nature, so he was confident in what the doctors were telling him.  This was a minor plumbing issue. 

So off to London we went so that dad could have this procedure done.  He was admitted into University hospital and a drain was installed into his gall bladder on Friday August 6, 2010.  The procedure went off without a hitch, and we could all breathe easy for the moment.  Mike and I set off to grand bend to watch his dad compete in the Stratford days racing event at the Grand Bend Motor plex.  We camped over on the Friday night, and I will admit we had a good time.  It was nice to go back to “normal” life for a minute, and enjoy my husband and children.  On Saturday morning, I had planned to drive to London and have a visit with my dad, but after receiving a call from my brother to say that my dad had a bad night, and a critical care team had to be called into his room during the night because he was in distress again my feelings of “normal” life faded away.  The drive to London was long and my mind raced with thoughts of what I would see when we arrived there.  I walked into his room and he was sitting in a chair with a tube coming out of the bottom of his gown.  There was black fluid running through the tube, and I was told this was the infection draining out.  So I guess it was doing it’s job.  Medication was helping the infection to clear out, and dad was starting to come around.  He spent a few weeks in London, and was eventually moved back to Stratford on Aug. 12. 

A petscan is a very detailed scan of the body which can see things that a normal cat scan can not.  This procedure was something dad needed to have to see if in fact the cancer had spread to anywhere else in the body.  So on Friday Aug. 13 dad went back to St. Joe’s hospital in London to have a petscan.

The weekend would bring new worry to our minds as we slowly watched my dad’s appearance turn a touch of yellow.  I am no doctor, but I do know from previous experience in the family, that this is derived from problems in the liver.  A surgeon in Stratford had a look at the drain to see if it was working properly and apparently had turned it off.  So for the course of the weekend dad’s body was filling back up with infection.  I had to wonder when this poor man would catch a break.  We start with a brain tumor, find out it’s lung cancer, throw an infected gall bladder in there, and now his liver function is being questioned.  My God, what exactly did he do to deserve all this? 

chapter 4

Looking at my dad, I did not see my dad, I seen my grandpa.  It seemed that over the course of that day my dad had aged 20 years.  I am not sure exactly what I expected my dad to say or do, because I did not know what to expect.  At first I was shocked to see how he looked, and then when my dad started to get agitated I got very upset.  He was cursing and swearing, and looked me in my eyes and told me to leave.  I was crushed.  There is no other way to explain it, I had waited all day to see him in recovery and the only thing he could say to me was “get out”.  After me, the boys and wives each went in to see him, along with Mike.  I could not go back in, my spirits were as low as they could be.  I wondered if they had done something while picking around in his brain that had changed him.  My mom quickly assured me that dad was very shocked and uncomfortable having woke up with a catheter in.  A feeling he had never experienced before, but a feeling he would soon get used to. Dad says he didn’t get told that he would have a catheter in and so he was very upset about this.  The nurses assured us that dad was on a cocktail of pain medication and may not be himself.  So, we left the hospital and headed home. 

I remember the drive up the next day, I was more afraid then ever to see my dad, after the reaction I got from him the night before.  Only this time when we walked into his room, his bed was empty and he was sitting up in a chair.  He looked nothing like himself, the left side of his head was very swollen and almost distorted and his head was shaved, he had a bandage over the site of the staples.  He had a Big smile on his face as we walked towards him, it was a world of difference from what I expected, although I was quite taken back by what I saw.  I couldn’t believe that less than 24 hours after having brain surgery he was up and out of bed.  His nurse said that he was being moved from recovery into a different room.  We loaded dad into a wheelchair as he wanted to go for a walk, so we decided to take him down to the lobby for coffee.  We headed down 13 floors to the lobby and when we got there dad very quickly began to notice the stares.  People stopped what they were doing to get a look, and that made dad uncomfortable.   I had never seen him with a shaved head, and the swelling was quite noticeable.  Before we even had coffee ordered he told us he wanted to go back to his room.  We are not sure if the elevator ride had been too much, or that he just was embarrassed about his appearance, even though he had yet to see himself.  So we took him back and got him settled into his new room.  I then took a trip up to the seizure clinic to buy him a bandana for his head (one which he would never wear).  I wanted to do whatever possible to make him feel comfortable.  I was so proud of him, he had just come through brain surgery and was far exceeding the progress I expected.  What a champ!

Only 1 day later we were told that dad could go home, I guess this is where my personal regret would have started, as I felt very strongly that my dad should not have been going home from the hospital this soon, and I should have asked more questions.  He was having cramping in his hands before being discharged and the nurses called in the surgeon who advised us that these were small seizures he was having.  Yet he was sent home anyways. 

He came home on a Friday and as that day went on the cramps in his hand became more frequent and I believe at one point we even called back to London to speak to a charge nurse and question why this was happening.  Again we were told this was small seizures that were happening as a result of the surgery.  I guess it was better than him having a major seizure, right?  His hand cramping up every now and then was a small price to pay after making it through a surgery like that, so we would deal with it, and they would go away after a few days, right? Wrong!

The next day was Saturday, and I will never forget the moment the phone call came in, it was in the late afternoon and Andy called me to tell me that dad had had a seizure.  Not just a hand cramp, a seizure.  My brother and his kids were all there when it happened.  My recollections of that day are somewhat scattered, for some reason one thing that stands out in my mind was my brother telling me that they called 911 after the first responders arrived he was told not to call me until the ambulance showed up and they got him looked after.  I was so incredibly mad about that, believe it or not I thought to myself that if my dad had died that night, I would never forgive them.  Who did they think they were deciding who should be called and who shouldn’t be.  At this point my fear had turned to anger (this would become a regular occurance over the next 5 months)

Walking into mom’s house there was so much going on, a kitchen full of firefighters and paramedics, my dad on a stretcher in the middle of this looking completely dazed and confused.  As they wheeled him out I remember trying to talk to him and he simply stared through me.  I remember walking out the front door after they took dad out and seeing so many people standing on the front lawns staring at us.  These were people who cared so much and you could see that on their faces as we drove down the street following the ambulance.  It kind of felt like time had stopped, like my dad having a seizure had stopped everyone’s lives that day on Queen street, there they stood in their driveways, and on their lawns all these people standing frozen with a mourning look on their face.  They had no idea what happened all they knew was that dad was sick, and recovering from brain surgery and now an ambulance was taking him away, I’m sure they were thinking the worst just as we were. 

His stay in the hospital was short lived as there was no permanent damage from the seizure, it was quite a normal occurrence after brain surgery, however one thing that did come out of all this was I came across the discharge paperwork that dad received when leaving University hospital.  While reading this paperwork of what to expect in the days to come after the surgery there was one thing that caught my eye.  One major side effect of brain surgery is seizures during recovery.  Then after reading a bit further down the page I noticed that this paperwork also said that dad would be released with anti-seizure medication to prevent a major seizure from happening.  I could not believe what I was reading! These world renowned surgeons who do this every day actually sent my dad home without a critical medication he would need to help in his recovery!  I am no doctor but I will be the first to say that this was a very significant mistake made on their part.  Needless to say he was put onto the anti-seizure drugs “too little too late” if you ask me, but none the less he was home again and hopefully on the road to recovery.

The call came in that dad was to start his radiation treatments on the brain on Wed Aug. 4 which would consist of daily trips to London for treatments to the brain, followed by 6 weeks of radiation on the lung.  It was very exciting to know that the treatments were finally starting.  I mean, the only way we could beat this was to go through the treatments.  Even though I had spent endless nights on the computer learning about information on what my dad had as well as, haulistic treatments, naturopaths, American cancer clinics.  I was preparing myself for the event that these standard treatments wouldn’t work and then we would try something else.  I even went so far as to have a chat with a wonderful nurse at the Cancer Treatment Centres of America, If I remember correctly she was located in Texas.  I spoke to her for almost an hour one night asking question after question about dad’s condition, and the things she was telling me were not so promising.  I gave her all the info that we had been given by the Oncologists, to my surprise I was not shocked at what she had to tell me, as I had already read most of it while studying on the internet.  I had to simply put what she was telling me to rest, my dad was going to beat this!  He was my dad, cancer could not beat him. 

chapter 3

I wasn’t joking when I said I did my research. Not that it made me feel like I knew more than someone with decades of medical schooling by simply reading a few books, but at least it gave me slight knowledge of what they were talking about. 

The next doctor we would meet would be Dr. Vincent who who would be the chemo doctor.  His take on dad’s condition was a little less enthusiastic.  I believe this man was the realist of the 2 doctors, and he was a little more to the point with us on exactly what we were dealing with. 

Either way after that day in London, we still had yet to hear the word “terminal” from either doctor.  And regardless of what they both said, Dad was ready.

Dad’s case was then sent onto a neuro surgeon to determine what would happen with the brain tumor.  It was at this point in the summer that we had planned a week away.  This was an annual event that Mike and I did each summer with friends and family, but this summer it was the last thing I wanted to do.  It was dad himself who told me to go, and not worry. Looking back now, that was 1 more week I could have spent with him before everything went down hill.  Sitting at the cottage that he and mom built, trying to enjoy a ‘holiday’ with my family while my dad sat in an office in London with a Neuro Surgeon.  The news was uplifting, he was sure he could get the whole tumor, and the surgery was scheduled for Wed. July 21. 

Dad was then put onto a steroid to keep the tumor from growing any bigger.  This caused him to put on some extra weight, and made him eat a lot more than usual.  We joked a lot over those few weeks about this extra weight and the fact that he would need it when going through treatment.    

In the weeks leading up to the surgery dad could still talk about this as though it would be a walk in the park.  If he was scared or concerned he never showed it to me, infact he did a very good job of assuring me that all would be ok.  I was never one to not believe my dad, as he had never lied to me before so I did believe him. 

About a week before the surgery dad called me to tell me that he wanted us all to come over the night before surgery for a family bbq. This was something we did often as a family, but this time it felt different.  When I told mom what he was planning, I remember her saying “I wonder why he wants to do this” we all knew it was going to be a very early morning the next day but we all went over that night and that’s a decision I am glad we all made.  This would turn out to be the very last time we all got together at home with dad bbq’ing and drinking a beer.  A few people stopped in that night, knowing the surgery was the next day.. One person I remember specifically was my best friend who brought one of those edible bouquets for him.  At one point I walked around the corner and found dad hugging her and they both had tears in there eyes.  I truly wonder if dad didn’t know that this would be the last time he would ever be able to enjoy a beer and driveway party with us all.  So often, I wish I could go back to that night, and just enjoy the moment a little longer.

When the morning came, my brother picked me up very early, I believe it was around 5am and we were off to University Hospital for the surgery.  I remember laughing at him because he brought a pillow along with him.  When dad went in to be prepped for surgery I remember thinking for a minute “will this be the last time I see him?” Although I had been reassured many times that these surgeons are the best and they perform these kinds of surgeries everyday, it still didn’t ease the knots that had developed in my stomach.  We were allowed to go in and see dad before he went into surgery and although he tried very hard to be strong for us all, I could see the fear in his eyes.  This was brain surgery after all, he wasn’t having wisdom teeth out.  They were actually opening up his skull and removing a tumor from his brain.  A tumor that had been growing in him for months without anyone knowing.  I still don’t quite understand the concept behind this.   

This would turn out to be what seemed like the longest day of my life, it seemed each time I looked at the clock I expected hours to have passed when it would simply show only a few minutes had.  There we sat in the waiting room, along with other families who I can only assume were feeling the same things we were.  Fear, hope, concern.. Every so often a nurse would appear and all tired eyes would turn to her with eager anticipation, mixed with a look of terror as we waited to see who’s name she would call.  Each time she appeared and called out a name, our heightened anticipation would collapse when the name she called was not The Roth family.  The waiting became too much to bear, so my mom and I decided to head to Masonville mall to walk around.  I think we spent about an hour in the mall before we both realized that this was not where we should be, so we quickly headed back to the hospital.  I believe it was shortly after 3pm when the surgeon himself appeared before us and asked us to follow him.  We all stood and walked down the quiet empty hallway after him as he lead us to a private conference room where we sat to learn the fate of our dad.  “the surgery was more complicated then we expected”, is what I remember his first words to be, “imagine taking a piece of tape and sticking it to a flat surface such as this table, and then pressing it down firmly and letting it sit for awhile, now try and remove that piece of tape.  It comes up in tiny pieces, and is very sticky and hard to remove.  It takes precision to remove that piece of tape. This is what your dad’s tumor was like” He went on to explain to us that for almost 6 hours he had to remove tiny pieces of the tumor one at a time.  Although the scans had made it look like it would be a fairly easily removable tumor it was an entirely different story once they got in there.  Dr. Stevens was however happy with the outcome, and assured us he felt confident he got it all.  He advised us that 10 days of radiation directly to the brain would be necessary in order to be sure that all cancer cells were killed off.  The feeling of relief was unbelievable.  We all made phone calls with excitement in our voice to tell the people we loved that the surgery had been successful.  My sister in law, and husband made there way to London and my other sister in law headed over from work and we all went out for a celebratory dinner.  It would be a few hours before we could see dad in recovery so we decided a few drinks were in order. 

When we arrived back at the hospital we were told we could go in to see dad 2 at a time, so mom and I walked in first.  There was dad laying in bed with his head wrapped in white bandages and he looked so fragile.  When we got to his bedside I was overwhelmed with feelings of sadness upon seeing him in this state, only a few hours earlier I kissed my dad for what would be the last time I would ever see him as himself. 

chapter 2

 

This is when the waiting began.  I have never been a very patient person to begin with, so my ability to wait was truly tested over the next few months. 

We now had to wait to hear where else my dad had cancer in his body, can you imagine that.  This is my dad, it can’t be possible.  He is immortal, cancer can’t touch him.. Things will be fine, I kept telling myself. 

We all arrived at the hospital the next day to await results. Sitting in the front lobby with my whole family was agony.  Everyone trying to be positive.. The waiting continued, until we seen ‘him’.  ‘He’ came to us to tell us he had seen the results of dad’s scans and everything was clear, and It was a very operable tumor in the brain.  What a relief, I could have swore someone just lifted weights off of me.  All the bad things I had thought were finally being put to rest, dad was going to be fine.  He would have surgery to take the tumor from the brain, get some treatment and we could all go back to life as normal.  That’s how it should have been. 

Dad was left to rest, and this was a mistake.  We all went about our day, why sit there, we knew he would be fine.  Little did we know that after we left, ‘she’ would come into his room while he had a visitor (not a family member I might add) and tell him he had lung cancer.  ‘HE’ had been wrong, looked at someone else’s scans possibly? Didn’t know how to read a scan properly? Possibly. 

What ever the excuse, we had been lifted and then dropped.  That was my peach, and my pit of the day.  To be told he would be fine (the peach), only to then be told he had lung cancer (the pit).. How could 2 doctors who apparently read the same charts, and seen the same scans tell us 2 totally different things within a matter of just a few hours. 

The results of the testing showed us that dad in fact had lung cancer which had spread through his blood to the brain. 

How did we not know? How did HE not know? How can this be? And most importantly can he be cured?

Just a few of the many questions I now had stiring in my mind.   Dad spent a few days in the hospital after these results came out, and for those few days dad would only refer to what he had as “C”.  Even in the notes he made when different doctors came in to talk to him, he would just write a simple C on the paper.  Then on the last day in the hospital when I went to see him he said it, “cancer” I am sure that was the first time I had heard my dad refer to what he had as cancer and not “C”.  He was facing this disease, I wasn’t. 

 And so the research began. I had been confused listening to these doctors talk about the cancer, and the tumor so I decided I needed to inform myself and that’s just what I did.   My goal in life became to find out everything I could about what he had.  Mike didn’t like that I spent so much time on the internet, didn’t agree with all the reading, and notes I was making.  I think he was the only one who really understood, as I did that we were facing a losing battle and I’m sure he was just trying to protect me.  I googled lung cancer that night for the first time, and was overwhelmed with what I found.  There are 2 different types of lung cancer I learned.. Small Cell, and non small cell.. Let’s just say small cell is the bad one, the one that only 6% of people who are diagnosed with are still alive 5 years after diagnosis.

Dad would be sent to London where a biopsy was done.  They stuck a needle into his lung to take a sample of the tumor so they could determine what type he had.  Needless to say we again had to wait for results.
I will never forget the feelings I had waiting to hear what type of lung cancer he had.. And I will never forget the day they came.  I was at Andy’s house, for what, I can’t remember but I know I was there when I got a message saying to stay put, everyone was on their way over and Dad had received his results and was coming to tell us.  What came next was my worst nightmare.  He told me he had small cell lung cancer.  It was at that point that I secretly started giving up.  I would tell no one of this, except pillow talk with Mike.  Dad was so excited and even cracked a beer, he had the guys from the shop there, as well as the family.  What the ‘f’ were we celebrating exactly? Apparently dad was told that this is a fast spreading cancer but it responds well to treatments.  I felt like I was missing something? And just really wanted to scream at them all.  To see my dad so happy, and positive over this reassured me, why should I be so worried if he wasn’t?

  It would be a few weeks before he could be seen by an oncologist in London at the cancer clinic.  These few weeks we were expected to go on with life as normal.. What? Are you kidding me, normal?? My whole life has just been turned around in the matter of days and now I watch my dad get up and go to work each day, and talk to his customers about the tumor he has growing in his brain like it’s nothing.  I felt like I was in a twilight zone, I wanted everyone’s life to just stop so they could all feel what I was feeling.  I needed to be informed, I don’t know why.  I became consumed with his disease and it overtook me.  I was constantly researching so I could be prepared when we met the oncologist

The day we went to London, I had my notebook in hand with all the information I had found on each type of lung cancer.  I don’t know what I planned to do with it, would I challenge the doctors? I didn’t really know, but as we waited to meet the first doctor I did feel prepared.  There would primarily be 2 oncologists we would deal with in London.  The first one we met was Dr.Yaremko, and I will never forget sitting in that office waiting on him.  When he came in, he asked dad to explain to him what has happened over the past few weeks.  We started the tape recorder we brought to record all the info we were about to receive, and so dad started.  “Well it was June 15, and Jess & Mike came into the shop to have lunch with me, and as soon as Jess started talking to me…” his voice trailed off.. We all looked over to see dad’s chin quivering and he was starting to choke up.  This would be one of the few times I would see my dad break down over what he was dealing with.  I took over and explained what exactly had happened on that day as my dad seemed to struggle to tell the story of how we discovered him that morning in june at the shop. How I thought he was having a stroke, which turned out to be a brain tumor, and so on.  Dr. Yaremko gave us great hope about the type of cancer, the results he had seen from the tests performed, and proceeded to tell us about the form of treatment they would be using.  It would be a combination, radiation and Chemotherapy treatment. At this point, I opened my notebook and looked onto a page where I had simply wrote – cisplatin & etoposide chemo treatments – widely used by most oncologists –survival rate less than using etoposide & carboplatin.

Tests have shown that treatment with estoposide & carboplatin showed a significant survival advantage over those receiving cisplatin & etoposide. This is information I receieved directly from the National Cancer Institute. 

At that very moment I heard him say he would be using Cisplatin & etoposide.  My heart sank, I guess I was really hoping I would hear him say the other 2 forms.  Since I had read in one medical journal that the other 2 gave a higher survival rate I had convinced myself that was the better option. 
I do remember questioning Dr. Yaremko on this issue, but I can’t remember exactly what his reasoning was, but he basically said he will be using what he suggests.  So I let it go.

The next issue to arise was that of staging.  We wanted to know what stage dad was at, and again I had been reading of the specific forms of staging lung cancer.  It is not really as simple as Stages 1-4, in Small Cell Lung Cancer there is a two tiered staging system.  Limited stage is where the cancer is still confined to the chest area, and Extensive Stage where the cancer has spread to other parts. 

Since I had been doing nothing but reading about this I already knew what we were going to be told that day, It was true, dad had Extensive Stage Small Cell Lung cancer, which basically translated into Stage 4.  I knew this was bad, my dad I don’t think so much.  He still managed to come out of that day with the most positive attitude.  This is a man who had just learned the fate of his life, and he basically told the doctors to bring it.  He was prepared to fight this.  It was this attitude of his that put faith back into me. 

The book has begun...

I started that day, June 15, 2010, with a visit to a medium.  She told me some very interesting things, too bad she couldn’t see what the rest of that day would bring for me.  She could see grandma taking care of a little girl. She knew grandma was a very giving person, and could see that she was happy in the role she was playing in heaven keeping things in order.  She seen mike’s grandpa and described him to detail with a drink in hand, and smoking like a chimney.  She even talked about a young man who had died tragically in a car accident who’s name began with A, I realized very quickly she was speaking of a cousin who had died just as she described.  I learned a lot that day of people who had passed, and was very comforted in how she described what she seen would become of my life in the years to come.  Upon leaving I was very excited to go share this information with my dad, he was never a true believer of psychics or mediums but I thought with the information I had could convert him to a believer.  We went to have lunch with my dad at work, where normally I was greeted with a hug.  This day was different.  I knew almost immediately upon seeing him that something was off.  I started to speak of my experience with the medium that morning, and could see the confusion on his face. He kept telling me to slow down, and asking me to repeat myself as he could not understand what I was telling him.  He struggled to understand what we were talking about, so I tried again to explain that she could see grandma, and Aaron.. What happened next will forever be imprinted in my mind.  He opened his mouth to talk and what came out sounded nothing like any language I had ever heard.  I told him to repeat himself, and he did, but again it was nothing to be understood.  Mike started to laugh, and questioned whether or not dad had been drinking that day.. Turns out this was no laughing matter. 

My thoughts quickly turned to an event that had taken place a few years prior.. I received a phone call one day from a cousin to tell me that my Uncle had a small stroke.  She explained to me that he started talking and it made no sense, and he was dizzy and lightheaded, I immediately thought my dad too was having a stroke.  A flurry of thoughts ran through my head, what should I do? Could this really be, was my dad having a stroke right in front of my eyes? And what could I do to help him! 

Just as quickly as it started, it stopped.  We even joked with him about what he had tried to say to us, and how it made no sense.  Just then my mom entered the shop and we told her we thought dad was having a stroke.
 We asked dad if he remembered what had just happened, and he responded by saying he could see our mouths moving, but no sense could be made of what we were trying to say to him, which is why he kept asking us to repeat ourselves.  I asked him how he felt and he explained that his head felt light.  I didn’t need to hear anything else, I made a call to the doctors and asked for some advice.  We were told he should be seen in emerg to be evaluated.

We stopped at the house to get my dad something to eat since we thought possibly he just had low blood sugar from not eating yet that day, and we were on our way.  One thing, thinking back now was my dad put up no fight when we told him he needed to go to the hospital.  It was like he knew.

In that drive to Stratford hospital, my mind raced at the possibility of my dad losing mobility, losing his speech, or possibly dying.  I had constant contact with a friend to ask advice on what should be done, what was happening and why? 

When we arrived at emerg dad explained to the triage nurse that his head felt weird, and we explained the events that had taken place at the shop only an hour earlier. 

Almost immediately a head CT was ordered, and it was decided that dad had an acute left side stroke, but not to worry because he could receive an injection that would reverse any side effects since we had got him to emerg so quickly.  The feeling of relief was wonderful, it was all going to be fine.  In a split second, another doctor was called onto dad’s case since the results of the scan were quite puzzling, this is where ‘SHE’ entered our lives.  What they were seeing in his brain, would usually show up days or months after someone had a stroke, and with dad it had happened within just a few hours.  The decision was made to admit him, and perform another scan but this time a dye was injected into his veins to see better results. 

Sitting outside emerg with my brothers, all making phone calls to keep people informed, we never expected the news we were about to get.  We were only allowed to have one of us in there at a time with dad and Dan was by his side with mom when “she” came in to deliver possibly the hardest punch we could ever receive. There was no sugar coating, no nice way of saying it and she sure didn’t try to ease the pain when delivering the news.

Your dad has a tumor in his brain, and it is cancer.  Brain cancer is very rarely a primary cancer, it usually develops somewhere else in the body and spreads in to the brain, is what we were told next.  The bad news just kept coming.. You now have to wait to find out where else he has cancer.  All this was Unbeknownst to Andy and I.  Could this have been done with all of us present? Should it have been done differently?  She was doing her job, delivering results to a patient who she didn’t know from a hole in the ground, what did she care? It’s not her family. 

 Danny walked into the parking lot, hardly able to keep it together and what he told us would change our lives forever.  It’s cancer.

That was it.. The start to the next 5 months.

. 

Taking steps forward

To pick yourself up and dust yourself off and start over is a truly undaunting task.  It can be done, with perseverance and a strong mind.  That of which I did not have for a very long time, but I feel it coming.  Each day I tell myself I have to.  For my husband, my children and most importantly for me.  It's so easy for people to say that my dad would want me to move on and keep living my life but do people truly understand how hard that is unless they have lived that situation?  In speaking to an old neighbour today she was telling me of the recent loss of her father and my heart broke for her.  She tried to explain how she was feeling since his passing and I summed it up by saying "It just sucks" and she smiled and said "that's exactly right, it does suck". 
Life is so precious, regardless of age losing a parent is not easy.  She explained that someone once told her that in fact it does not get easier to lose someone once they are elder as you have just had that many more years to love them and it actually makes it harder.  I don't think the time you spent with someone should determine how much you should miss them, the memories you made and the love you shared make losing someone difficult for everyone no matter who they are. 
I had my dad for 30 wonderful years, he was an inspiration and he didn't deserve to die at 60. 
I feel like I am hitting a turning point in my recovery.  No one will ever know how much this writing has done for me, to be able to put down my inner most thoughts and truly put myself out there has been so inspiring.  I am making the conscious decision to start over.  I have joined a gym, I truly feel that making an effort to make change will help immensely in my healing. I am truly going to push forward, and I intend to make a difference with this writing, as the difference it has made in me is heavenly.  I do my best daily to try and make positive choices and embrace the day.  Then life throws in a rainy day and I feel myself slip.  One cloudy, rainy day...
Yesterday my daughter was home sick and it was a dreary rainy day, we lay on the couch relaxing and watching Dora when she went over to the movie shelf and pulled out a DVD for us to watch, it was the slide show that was made for my dad's funeral.  I have only watched this DVD once and that was the day of my dad's funeral.  I'm not really sure why I haven't watched it yet, but like I said before I couldn't even look at his pictures for a very long time.  So I agreed to watch it with her.  As upsetting as it was to see, it's amazing how I was able to watch it through a different set of eyes as the last time.  I cried throughout the playing of the movie, partly because of the significance of the songs that were chosen to play and also just seeing all those pictures opened the flood gates  However, I really was able to truly appreciated each and every picture and envision where the photo was taken and what we were doing at the time of it.  I laughed a few times, and took pride in telling Charlee who was in each shot and what papa was doing in some of them.  Being able to share that with my daughter was very special.  As I said in my eulogy at my dad's funeral I will speak of you often so that your grandchildren shall never forget you.  It is true, we do speak of him.. but not often, not as much as I intended to.  So to watch this movie with her and see her smile at the pictures of him, she just lit up.  It saddened me that he will not see her grow up, as she has so many of his silly characteristics in herself.  He would really get a kick out of her. 
She loves him still so much, and she hasn't seen him in over a year.  It's amazing how she can remember him since she was not quite 2 when he left us.  That's the lasting impression he left.  That is the impression he wanted me to live up to, and that is why I am choosing to dust myself off and move on.  I am hoping to begin to move past the anger that still overtakes me at times, and truly begin to love life again.  In the days to come I am choosing to share his journey again.  In an attempt to deal one more time with the true feelings I have regarding the process we went through during his fight.  The term "to beat a dead horse" has come to my mind, as I feel sometimes like I should just move past this but to be honest, me talking about this truly IS me moving past it. 
The process is significant, and one I am facing daily in taking steps forward...

Making amends

On this self proclaimed journey I am making,  I have realized that one of my steps to healing is to take the time to own up to the mistakes I have made in the past.  I came to a strange realisation after everything that happened to me.  It was that life is precious and things can change in an instant.  I have expressed the importance of telling the ones you love just what you need them to know at every opportunity, but I also strongly believe that another key to redemption is to fix the problems you create along the way, so that ultimately you live with no regrets.
 I know there are bridges I burnt and people I hurt in my past and in my effort to get my life back on track I have decided it's high time I address these people and issues. 
I will be the first to admit that in the past I have made decisions that may have affected others negatively, and it is unfortunate that it took something like this happening for me to realize that something I did to someone may have hurt them.  I am not sure how far this blog reaches or if the people I hope to see this will ever actually read it but for now this is the best I can do. 
I have been a strong believer in karma and the common phrase.  Now, do I believe that something bad happened to me because I did bad things in the past? I can't honestly say yes or no to that.  All I can do is try and right my wrongs, and do the best I can to live differently from now on. 
Maybe from all that happened I have realized that I would like to be more like my dad, he was an integral part of this community and always did his part for whatever cause it was needed.  I know those are some big boots to fill, but I guess my new adventure could be to dive in with both feet and help out where I can.  I always admired his eagerness to get involved with different projects and although at the time I selfishly wished he didn't want to dedicate so much time to his community so that he had more time for me, I know that what he was doing was for a greater good. 
My deciding to change things about myself is a direct result of the man that my dad was.  He was someone that I looked up to and admired.  I guess I am feeling like I too would like that admiration some day.  Don't get me wrong, I am sure my dad burnt a few bridges along the way, infact I know he did, but from what I understand those bridges were not meant to be left standing.  They were with people who he was better off without. 
The people we chose to surround ourselves with ultimately form the person we become and directly affect the way we can behave. 
Looking back there were relationships that could still be standing today had I not done things or said things to hurt them.  For this I am sorry.  It is one thing to truly regret the things you have done, it is another to go on through your life pretending you have lived guilt free.

The person I am working on is the one I want my kids to look up to, the way I look up to my parents.  I want my kids to know that I was a good person and be happy that I helped shape them into the person they became. 
The way we act defines us and it is our choice to make that action a good or bad one.  I do believe people can change, and I hope that people understand the changes that have happened in me. 

So my promise from now on is to try my best to right my wrongs and be the person who would make my kids proud.  To live with no regrets, and to be more involved.

Make it about yourself

Do you care too much about what other people think? How many decisions do you make in a day, and how many of them may be made differently if you weren't worried about what other people would think? Every decision right down to the food we put in our body, the clothes we wear, or the way we decide to style our hair in the morning.. Do we do this consciously to suit ourselves? The fact is, too many of our decisions are altered because we all worry too much about how it will look to other people. 
Let's start simple, I'm sure more than one of you readers are concerned with your weight? For myself, it is a constant everyday struggle.  Do I know that I should eat better and exercise more? Absolutely! Am I happy with the way I look right now? Absolutely Not! I have spent far too much time over the past year being sad and feeding my sorrows, ( I mean LITERALLY feeding my sorrows), and the result of it is something I am not proud of.  Does my husband look at me the same way? Do my friends notice it, but think I'm too fragile to say something? 
The baggy clothes have come out of the closet AGAIN, (good thing I never got rid of them the last time I lost weight) and now I am back to trying to hide it, and constantly worrying about what people think. 
Most mornings when I drop my son at school I am in comfy pants, with one of my husbands large oversize hoodies and my hair pulled back as to avoid the just slept on look.  Depending on my mood I may stay in the car and just do a drop and run, if I am having a good day then I actually walk him to his class. 
I miss the days when I enjoyed waking up and selecting my wardrobe for the day.  Now adays I have a pile of jeans in my closet that don't fit, but I am not letting them go because I plan to make them fit at some point.  It's a good thing I work by myself in an office where no one can see me.  All because I care too much about what people think.  I believe that if I keep working on myself that someday soon, I will feel confident enough to not give a Hoot about how I look to others... That someday may not be for a long time, but I will get there. 
One thing I've learned after all I've been through is that yesterday is history and tomorrow is a mystery so why not live for today.. I need to start making it about myself. 
If you are comfortable in your own skin then what other people think should have no bearing on you.  Unfortunately we live in a rather cruel society, and we form protective bubbles around ourselves so that we feel we can face life.  I have fallen into such a pity me stage that I forgot what a strong woman I really am, and it's quite sad. 
Each day I tell myself I am going to make a change.  I will not eat chips after supper anymore, I will start a regular routine of keeping active, but one bad day sets me right back to square one.  I think that alot of people may be able to relate to this. 
Depression can affect people in many different ways and people can choose which way to deflect their feelings of sadness.  Some people fall into addiction, others turn to the comfort of food.  The more I talk about my feelings and wanting to get better and make a change the more my head believes it.  Each and every person has will power, the trouble is getting that will power to work.  It's easy to falter back into old habits because that's what we are used to and that's what is comfortable to us. 
That's why I believe that if you work on your mind first you will be able to tell your body to do whatever you want.  Or at least I hope, let's remember I let myself get into this funk and it is taking alot of hard work and extreme will power to try and get out of it. 
The bottom line is, I need to have more confidence in myself.  It's very easy for me to write this stuff as again you are all reading exactly what I'm feeling.. The key for me is to walk the talk. 
I hope to make the changes that I speak of.. It's time to make this about me!

Each day may be a struggle, but I'm forced to realize that life is too short to not enjoy it, so it's time to make that change... I just hope I can succeed.