Tis the Season~

I have touched a nerve lately on the subject of the teachers striking.  Let me start by saying, I am not a teacher, I chose not to be a teacher, and I do value the teachers that my children have and My friends who are teachers as they hold a lot of merit in my eyes.  They educate and help raise our children.  That is invaluable in my eyes.  The point I have obviously been unclear in making is that in all the children are the ones being affected the most.  I hope at some point very soon, the teachers union, and the government will come to an amicable agreement.  This is all I have to say on this matter.  I apologize if I offended any teachers as this was not my purpose in expressing my opinion.  As someone put it  "I am a lioness who is protecting her children"

Todays post is a very important one to me and I do hope that all of you read it and read it carefully.  Alot has happened over the past few days, weeks, and months, that have led up to this post.  Events that have happened or are happening in the world.  People, stop for a second and pause to remember these events.
There was a time in life when things seemed easy, were easy, life was fun, people got along, or at least that's what I want to think.  People had jobs, were happy they had jobs, and felt secure in their jobs.  Lots of people are feeling the tough economical times, and find themselves living paycheque to paycheque. People are battling an illness that everyone is to afraid to talk about.
Today as I sit here in my house, feeling under the weather and looking out to a cloudy dreary day I have to think about all these issues. I go back to when the life ahead of me was an adventure.   Growing up I longed for marriage,  children, a job I loved, and enough money to live comfortably.  What I never dreamed of was a life of suicide, losing my dad, constant money troubles, people shooting up schools & malls, it's terrible.
Now I'm an adult and have a family of my own, my opinion and values have changed.  Things that were once important to me, are no longer.  My opinion towards mental health has been supreceded by my own life experiences, my oblivion to the world around me has been changed by tragic events that unfold almost daily in the world, and my concern for making ends meet has been a constant struggle.
Life in general is seeming to be alot harder than what I signed up for.
Let me start with the fact that people are losing jobs at an increasing rate, people are living off nothing, and there are people struggling to just keep food on the table.  Yet we fight over wages, paid sick days, and the ability to negotiate a contract.  Everyday our unemployment offices are flooded with people who have anything from a highschool diploma to a university degree, who can not find work.  Factories are closing all over the place because the items we depend on can be made for pennies in foreign lands. Students are spending half their early adulthood in school to educate themselves and can't get a job.  There are not enough doctors, and in our automotive industry we have people who have worked for decades building us reliable vehicles in our backyard and are now out of work with a days notice so that the big 3 can save a buck.  What ever happened to supporting local?? How about employing local? Money talks!  I know it, and you know it.  It's just unfortunate that this is what we have all come to.  I know, times have changed and I know that things cost more and people make less.  That my friends is the world we have all created.  People  have let the all mighty dollar shadow their fundamentals.  In my opinon.

Over the past year it saddens me to say that I have seen far too many lives lost at the hand of someone suffering mental illness who had access to a gun(s).  In the past week, I have paid close attention to CNN watching the coverage in Connecticut.  Unfortunately this horrific event is not the first of it's kind.  In my opinion the shooter doesn't even deserve the time I am taking to write this, however the fact of the matter is a sane person does not commit an act like this.  Mental Illness is all around us, and it's scary for all involved.  It's scary for the person it affects, the people around them, and society at large.  It is such a diverse disease, and I guess the best way to explain it is to think of cancer.  You can say you have cancer,  but there are 200 different types of cancer that can affect a person.  You can say you have mental illness, and the list of 'types' is endless.  It's sad to think now that after losing my dad I sat in my own bubble of depression and didn't talk about it.  Makes me even sadder to think about all the hundreds of thousands of people in the world who are sitting in that same bubble right now.. Wondering how to cope.  Some will commit suicide, some will reach out for help or write a blog,  some will grab a gun and do the unthinkable, and others will just continue to live in that bubble afraid to speak out.  If more people talked, if more people listened and if more people reached out, maybe a few more people would pop that bubble and reach out for help.  I'm not going to save the world with this blog, hell I'm probably wearing out my welcome with some of my readers.  The point is I did reach out, I did ask for help, I found a way to express myself through writing and it has been a saviour. Now I am determined to help someone else.  People don't have to be afraid of speaking out, they have to be afraid of NOT speaking out.  It's scary to think that someone feels they have the right to grab a semi-automatic from the closet and make a class of 6 year olds their targets.  This boy needed help and for whatever reason didn't get it.  His resentment, anger, and sickness lead to the events that took place.  There are kids being bullied so badly that they go home from school and hang themselves in the closets.  What is happening to this world!

The way the world is going right now, makes me fear for the future of my children.. At their innocent ages of 6 & 4 I have shielded them from the media reports of the massacre in Connecticut.  I don't even know how to begin to explain that to them.  I want to keep them from the worries of the world, and protect them from bullies.  They have seen me go through the worst time in my life, and I have talked to them in depth about my feelings and why I have acted the way I have.  I assured them that we will get through this as I know we will, but I can't promise that I can get them through the dissapointments they are bound to face as they grow.  What I can do is make sure they know that talking is the key, feelings are meant to be shared, and never to be afraid to speak up.
For all that's going on in the world, it is the Holiday season and we need to be thankful for the family we have.
I pray for the parents who have lost children, for the children who have lost a parent, and for those kids that are sitting in their bubble watching this killer being put into the spot light and planning their own legacy, I pray that someone can reach out to them before we see another tragedy occur.  I pray for kids being bullied, for people struggling to provide a happy Christmas for their kids and not having the money to provide it, and for the people who believe they have it all, I pray that those looking for work find it, and that those who have work are thankful for it.
I wish everyone a very Merry Christmas this year and hope that the New Year brings one less tragedy, one less war, one less impoverished family, tougher gun laws, and more awareness to Mental Health..

Jesse~

An Ongoing Battle

So again I go MIA in the writing.. I guess life took over for awile and I put "me" on the back burner.  This wasn't healthy for me, as I quickly spiraled downwards yet again...  I guess it isn't a coincidence for me to come out with this on Remembrance day.. Since this day signifies the start to my depression.

I'm fighting a losing battle....
Feeling like I move a few steps foward, and then a dozen steps backwards is quickly becoming the norm for me.  For so many reasons I should be over joyed, and yet a powerful strength seems to be holding me back from any happiness. 
The constant struggles I face build up each day as the walls feel as though they are closing in on me.  This can't be right, this feeling of utter despair, pity, self loathing... shall i go on
I'm just plain pissed off right now at myself, for letting things get to this point.  Screaming and crying doesn't seem to help.  What I need is a good kick in the ass! 
It's amazing how many things in my daily life can contribute to my sadness.
Society these days seems to be trying harder to get the point out that it's ok to share feelings like this, but does it really make it ok? Do people really want to hear about others sadness.
Is it socially exceptable to share your sorrows with others? To let them into such a dark place in your life, and open up about being depressed? I think that the media is trying to make it more acceptable, but let's be realistic, how many people who are working on these media campagnes to sell the acceptance of depression, have actually dealt with it? Or are dealing with it?
I don't have that answer.  What I do know is that for 2 years now I have tried to put on a happy face for people to let them see on the outside that I'm ok, when on the inside I am far from it. 
It's so easy to hide behind a smile.   I mean really, I don't want people's pity, I'm not looking for social acceptance..  I just want to feel better. 
This is not something that I have been dealing with for many years, it all started with losing my dad.  There can be an event in your life that's so traumatic to you that it opens up a new door.  A sad side that can be so unbearable some days that it makes it tough to function.  Thank god I have kids that give me a reason to get up each day.  They don't understand, all they know is that mommy is sad sometimes. 
Between anxiety and sadness it's like each day is endless, hours upon hours pass and the corner I feel backed into just keeps getting tighter.
Depression is an ugly hidden disease that is made worse by the fact that its not something others can see on the surface.  Some people chose to hide their depression and retract, it's easier for them to ignore than to deal with it.  The truth is for a long time that's how I chose to deal, but to be honest, the relief I feel talking about it is the best medicine I could take. 
If more people made the decision to open up to someone I don't think we would see so many tragic outcomes from this disease.  Embaressment plays a large factor in this.  I know all to well how hard it is to face up to what I'm dealing with.  With friends who are happy and succesful, and encountering people on a daily basis who love life (or appear to) it makes it harder to face.  Maybe that's not fair of me to say, that everyone looks happy, I wonder how many people I come across on a daily basis face similar struggles to me but are not talking about it. 
How do you deal with it if you can't talk about it?  I feel like a bottle that has been shaken and ready to explode if I can't open up on here and share what I'm going through.  This is my therapy...
Welcome to my messed up life..
My wish is that anyone who feels like they are backed into a corner, anxious and sad could find some solice in their life.  Writing is an incredible way to let out your deepest feelings and emotions. 
My goal for this has always been to try and help others, so I'm hoping to keep sharing my feelings, and hopefully things will sound more positive in my next post...

How Lucky I am

Here is a post I started creating about a month ago and never got around to finishing and posting.. Enjoy~


As Fathers Day came I could already feel the anxiety building up as it has become a day I dread as oposed to a day to celebrate.  The simple thought of buying a card for my husband leaves me in tears as I can't help but wish to be able to tell my dad once more what he means to me... Unfortunately the day came and I did muster up the strength to get a card from the kids but that's it.  How Lucky is he!
It really hit me that day, what the hell's wrong with me!  Here I have a husband who has stood by my side through the most tragic event in my life, holding my hand when I needed, and giving me space when I needed.  He has been understanding and patient which I'm sure was a difficult task for him.  Instead of showing him how much he meant to me and my kids, my day was focused on what I have lost and being selfish.  I have to learn a balance, in that, I need to teach myself that it's ok to have sad moments on a day like that and to take the time I need to reflect on what a great dad I had, but I also need to make sure to show my husband that he is a great dad too.  It's a hard balance to keep.
My life lately has been pretty ok I must say, bordering on the line of normal.  Our business is doing well, we are looking forward to a move this week and I am feeling happy.  Overwhelmed, but happy. 
Looking back over the past year and a half it was hard to think that there would ever come a day when I could say I feel happy, or even excited for what's to come.  Could I be turning a new page? Could this dreadful grief period finally be over for me, and could my life actually return to normal?  I feel an irritating peace, and the reason I say irritating is because it is almost unnerving to me that I can feel this way.  I guess I told myself so many times to just get used to this way of life because nothing was going to change, my life would go on without my dad and I wouldn't smile, laugh or be happy ever again, and if I did it meant I had gotten over losing him and that wasn't ok.  Well, turns out it is ok, I can laugh and have a good time, I can smile, and life certainly is going on.  Am I happy everyday?, well that is a double edged sword.  Is it possible to feel happy without feeling bad about it?  Each day my sadness tends to fade a bit more, things have changed all around me, some for the good and some for the bad. 
I guess the bottom line is I am content with my life today.  Content feels like a safe word for me to use. 
I will never forget, I am reminded constantly of his memory by things happening around me.  Whether it be that darn light bulb that keeps coming loose all on its own, my kids asking me about him, or a memory that hits me like a ton of bricks out of no where.  The good news is those memories are bringing more smiles now than tears.  I am happy about that. 
My greatest accomplishment now has changed from learning to live without my dad, to learing to live with myself.  Its my choice to either move on or move out. 
On friday we are moving into what I am refering to as our "forever home".  We have never thought of any of our houses as "forever homes" so this is new and exciting for me!  I am already envisioning my kids growing up in this home, and we have already talked about what we can do to it in our "10 year plan".  We have never had a "10 year plan" I think the longest we have ever had was a "6 month plan".  I am ready to settle and plant roots. 
My husband and I just celebrated our 7 year wedding anniversary and we are still going strong.  We laugh so much together, and I can truly say he is my best friend.  Our relationship started when I was 15 years old, I used to go visit him at St. Mike's (on my spare of course ;) and would go to almost all his hockey games.  We became such good 'buds' as we used to refer to it.  That relationship had its ups and downs over the course of 10 years, you see we both made a promise to each other in our teens that if neither of us where married at 25 we would marry each other.  Who better to marry than your best friend!
Well, needless to say we fulfilled our promise and here we are today, 7 years and 2 beautiful energetic children later.. Mike's parents like my own have been married for eons and we have had wonderful examples to live by on what a marriage should be.  Yes, there will be hard times and yes at times it will seem like it's just not worth it, but in our minds, it's always worth the fight. 
We are happily settled into our new home and leading up to the weekend of the 2nd Annual Cephas Roth Memorial Worlds Fastball tournament.  What a weekend it will be of fabulous baseball.  I can tell you that when we were approached last year with the idea of renaming the tournament after Dad we honestly weren't sure, but now looking back we are all so honoured to have his name attached to such a tournament. 
His legacy lives on... Hope to see everyone out this weekend!

I'm Back~

Following my writing hiatus I am back and ready to continue on my writing venture.. I believe I have exhausted the story of my dad's illness and have focused enough of my time on the anger I needed to release and so I am happy to say that the things I will continue with will be teaching people to move on.. How to get passed a tragedy, life after depression, staying afloat in life when it feels you are drowning in your own self pity.  Many people have "that story" of the worst moment of their life.  Mine is quite obvious, losing my father.. But it could be the loss of a child, a mother, a husband.  Those moments that absolutely take your breath away, and not in a good way.  First I want to address the obvious, in that we need to move on. There's just no other way about it.  To hear someone tell you to move on is like a punch in the face, trust me I know!  But try and take a significant step back and see what other option presents itself.  Nothing. 
Your life goes on whether you want it to or not, at the time it may feel like it won't but it's inevitable.  The struggle is figuring out how to move on.  For so long I have focused solely on why my dad died and to be honest I have come up with nothing more than hours upon hours of racking my brain for an answer, and blaming many people along the way, and where has that got me? No where! 
So here I am June 7, 2012.  1 week from the day when we first found out my dad had cancer 2 years ago.  Funny, I never knew the significance of my feelings to start writing again, maybe it's my subconscious telling me that there is a monumental date coming up and I know that this will be my way through it.  Who knows.. Truth is I feel my dad with me, even as I write this my office door just flew open from the wind and I'm suddenly flooded with emotion as I know its him.  Small things happen that reassure me that my dad follows close by me everyday..
It's such an overwhelming and wonderful feeling.  To know that I still have that close of a connection with him even though he's not here.  This is the reason I choose to move on.
Is it easy, absolutely not. 
I move on because I know that I still have a purpose here, my children.  At least once a week I am faced with questions, especially from Charlee, about her papa.  Her beautiful little mind is so old beyond her years.  I tell Mike she is like an old soul in a young body.  Her questions bewilder and amaze me at the same time.  She wants to know if she stops eating will she stop growing up? If she doesn't grow up will time reverse so her papa can come back.  I ask her what she remembers of him, and she tells me that she remembers him being sick in a hospital.  This saddens me as that decision was a very hard one to make at the time when he asked to see the grand kids in the end and he was so frail and sick.  I spoke in earlier posts about how Charlee didn't hesitate at all to climb up onto his brittle body and embrace him.  She loved him so very much.  She is so curious about how he got to heaven.. What exactly do you tell a 3 year old? Well the obvious, that God came down and got him.. When everyone was asleep of course!  This is a child who was not even 2 at the time, but the impact my dad had on her and Max is so profound for such a short time. 
This is why I choose to move on. 
There is so much good to be done in this world, my dad was one of those people who set an example.  He left me with such an impression of who you should strive to be.  And I want to be just that.  Successful, full of love, and a friend to everyone.  I choose to move on to carry on the type of personality.  Many characteristics in me mirror my father.  People never fail to tell me how much I can be like him.  No longer does that comment bring tears to my eyes, it now puts a warm smile on my face. 
It takes more of an effort to be angry and upset than it does to be happy and smiling.  So there's no point in wallowing anymore.  My dad lived a wonderful life and someone needs to be that spark for him that continues to burn.  He was a force to be reckoned with!
I have decided it is more important for my kids to grow up and look at me the way I looked at my father.  With such pride and love.  I don't want them to remember mommy sad and angry, but happy and full of life!
Our business is growing and surpassing our expectations, our kids are healthy, and I have a wonderful husband who has proven to me that he is in it for the long haul! We just celebrated 7 wonderful years of marriage and to be able to accomplish that after what we have faced is a blessing.  My parents were married for 39 years when my dad passed away.  They were an example of what love is, facing hard times, raising children, growing a successful company, and living life to its fullest!

That's why I choose to move on!

Chapter 9

We would find out eventually after grueling days of waiting on test results that one scan showed his liver was inflamed.  The unfortunate part about this was no one knew why.  None of the blood work to date had showed this, but we were finally able to see it with one simple scan.  The only explanation given to us was that small cell lung cancer feeds on the proteins and sodium in your body and attacks your smaller organs and when this happens it quite likely that nothing can be done, there are times that the inflammation cannot be reversed. 

We were left with the possibility of sending dad to a liver specialist in London who had dad’s case file and was just as puzzled as all the other doctors. 

It should be simple; when there is inflammation you apply ice.  If only it could be that simple. 
It was at this point that my gut was telling me that the doctors were thinking that the cancer was causing the inflammation and it was slowly shutting down the liver. 
Slowly my dad’s condition worsened and weakness once again set in.  Blood transfusions were required to try and raise his hemoglobin levels.  The drain from his gall bladder was finally removed at the end of October, and I think we all knew where this was going. 
With the end of treatments nearing, there should have been so much to be hopeful for; however we were a family left wondering what the next option was going to be.  The chemo doctor was still not willing to resume treatment unless the liver condition improved, and at that point we were being told that it was unlikely to improve. 
The battle was intensifying and we were all realizing that the battle he was fighting was soon to be over.  My dad was an immortal to me, and with his strength unable to fight this I knew that it was soon to be over. 

On October 29, we were called into a meeting with one of his doctors.  Arriving at the hospital expecting to hear the worst but still trying to hold hope, the anticipation of this meeting was overwhelming.  Walking into a room with a social worker, nurse and one of his CCAC workers was the final blow.  I knew that when the social worker brought in boxes of Kleenex we were not in for good news. 

His body is weak, and he is tired, but he is in no pain, except for a sore throat from the radiation. 
Doctors tell us that a scan from last week show that the spots in the lung have shrunk from radiation, but chemo has to be given in order to have any shot at beating this, and at this point chemo was no longer an option. 
Even if dad had a healthy liver, he was too weak to go through treatments.  It was the news we all knew was coming, but wanted so badly to ignore. 

The doctor had consulted with many liver specialists and no solution for the inflamed liver has been found.  They had tested him for all the normal things that would cause this, but none of them are present.  It became a trial by error process; to start removing him from his many medications to see if that would make a difference.  It was a possibility that his anti-seizure medication could have caused liver damage.  The option of a biopsy on the liver was given, however even on the slight chance that something would be found, the treatment option would be something he could not handle.

I have watched countless movies, and TV shows and seen the doctors deliver that dreadful news to a family, but nothing can ever prepare you for the day when you are that family. 

My dad was not present at this meeting, and the decision was made to go and tell him that the doctors had exhausted all options in his treatment and nothing more could be done.  It was so hard to give up hope, when less than 24 hours before this meeting my dad was asked if he wanted heroic measures taken should his heart stop to which he answered “yes”.  How do you tell someone this news, when they are not ready to give up? 

We needed a miracle, and miracles have happened.  It was just not going to happen in our case. 
Making that walk down the hallway to tell my dad of his fate seemed like it took an eternity.  Preparing in my head how I was going to handle hearing the words said, and having to watch his reaction to it.  I was quite unprepared for the doctor to actually skate around the topic and once again give my dad hope.  It was if I had dreamed up the meeting we just had.  An unbelievable thing happened that day; I suddenly found strength as it was needed.  My mom and I had to be the ones to tell my dad that in fact his fight was over.  We were the ones who spoke the words to him, not a doctor.  The look on his face is something unexplainable.  Puzzled might explain it, as a doctor had just told him to prepare for a trip to London for further testing.  What he didn’t explain was that they wanted to use dad’s tests for research purposes, and not for a possible treatment.  It was our turn to take over his case; in fact he would not go to London.  He would settle in for his final rest.  He would have his family who loved him at his side, day and night until he decided it was time. 

It was quite an uncomfortable night when the funeral director arrived to talk to dad about his final arrangements.  With all of us present we discussed how things would go down when the time came.  He chose the music for his funeral, which would carry him to his final resting place, even who would deliver his eulogy.  After this meeting, he would await the arrival of a few final family members so we could all have our proper goodbyes.  This is something we never really got. 

It seemed as though he chose to give up one night without telling us.  He went silent.  Except to tell the doctor that he was in pain, so a morphine pump was ordered and that night would be the last that night we could ever speak with him.  I love you were shared, but not enough.  How many times can you tell someone you love them before they die?  There was so much to say, in such little time. 
If I had the chance again, I would tell my dad that he was the best man I will ever know.  My life with him was so blessed.  He was my provider, my rock, my dad, and he can never be forgotten. 

For 3 grueling days we would sit at his bedside, all he did was breathe.  Watching his chest fill up with air, and fall again was eerily peaceful.  I would lay with my head on his chest and listen to his strong heartbeat.  He had a good life, helped many people and touched many hearts.  Nurses were in disbelief at how strong his heart was still on day 3, I wasn’t.  It was a strong heart. 

Remembrance Day came and knowing how much my dad loved the bag pipes I decided to spend the moment of silence at his side with the volume on his TV turned as high as it would go.  Hearing the echo of the trumpet, and the hum of the bagpipes fill his room made me smile.  I held his hand and told him how proud I was of him for the fight he had given to a losing battle.  He was my hero. 
That night when everyone left for supper and my husband and I sat with him one last time, it happened.  He took his final breath.  It was a heartbreaking moment to be with him, but it was a moment I will forever be grateful that we shared together.  We shared such a special irreplaceable bond and he felt at peace enough to let go with me at his side. 

Leaving the hospital that night knowing my life would never be the same was the hardest thing to do.   My mind racing, my head is such a state of disarray, all the feelings I was having and the emotions going through me all at once made it very hard to breathe.  The one thing I found solace in was knowing his suffering was finally over, but selfishly I wished he was still here so I could sit with him and feel his heartbeat. 

The days to come were very long and exhausting, going through 2 days of visitations and then facing the final step, the funeral.  I was going to deliver the eulogy for my father.  For a man who was so important to so many people, that was a scary thought, how would I ever find the words to say, and how could I possibly say all that was needed to be said.  Hoping I could piece something together that was a fitting enough tribute to such a man.  I spent hours writing and re-writing these final words I would share with hundreds of people.  It was my final tribute to him. 

Chapter 8~

My prayers to this point had been for my dad’s strength to fight this, from this point on my prayers turned to us as a family, to heal us from what we were about to go through. 

With so many good days, followed by bad days, positive test results, followed by negative test results, one doctors uplifting opinion, followed by another doctors realistic view on this issue, I was drained.  At the end of September we received possibly the most confusing news, after watching the deterioration of his spirit for weeks we were told by one of his London doctors that he sees an improvement and wanted to continue treatments.  Puzzling, I must say.  The utter confusion in this matter is hard to convey in words.  The puzzling look on my face after most of these appointments would have been a clearer vision. 

We would see days where he wanted to get up and walk, eating his meals (small amounts, but at least eating), this would be such an uplifting sight for me, after slightly losing hope, the pain of guilt for the thoughts I had been having were too much to bear.  How could I be giving up on him?  How could he show so much improvement only to follow that up with a fever and feeding tube the following day?  The human body is a strange object to wrap myself around.  I guess to be truthful it’s the disease that puzzles me more than anything.  It truly is a silent killer. 

Treatments resumed, days went on with this roller coaster of good days and bad, good news and bad.  He was frustrated by the lack of information he was receiving and confused by what exactly was happening to him.  It’s hard to say if he was being naïve or if he was just afraid to let down his walls and show us that he was scared. 

As the process went on nothing was more upsetting to me than seeing the look of fear, confusion, hope, let down, and pain in his eyes.  This is a man who was for my whole life dealt the blows like a champ.  Nothing ever seemed to faze him, or at least he never let us see it.  He took on more than he could handle at times, but could anyone see it, No.  He wasn’t built that way.  Something about a man, and not showing fear was taken to the next level with my dad. The day would come, sooner than later, when we would truly see just how much my dad feared this disease and what his outcome would be. 

On one evening visit to my dad, we went for a walk through the halls of the hospital; it was not like any walk we had ever taken.  It was not down our street with frequent stops at every house that someone was outside to visit, chat or have a cold one.  Albeit he was just as friendly in the hospital corridors as he was on Queen Street, saying hello and offering a smile to people he passed.  That night after our first walk, I figured I would get him settled into bed and watch TV, but much to my surprise he wanted to walk again.  One more time we made our way around the halls, I was bursting inside.  The amount of pride I had for him at that moment is monumental.  I know he was frail and tired, but he wanted to badly to show me just how much fight he had in himself.  That is just the man he was.  How could you not look up to that? 

The idea of him possibly being well enough to come home was tossed around, even though one of his London doctors was still concerned with the liver issues and was pushing for a scope to be done to see just what was happening. 

The beginning of October seemed to bring on a whole new set of mountains to climb.  On one side we were seeing such improvement with him, he was nearing the end of radiation, he was gaining weight, and he was allowed to come home for afternoon visits to the house... These were all such positive signs for us, and allowed us to once again have hope.  One Doctor was still pushing for a scope to be done to find out what was going on in the liver, as he would not resume chemo until he knew.  Another doctor was telling us that having a scope done was far too risky with how thin his blood was still.  The scope was scheduled, post-poned, re-scheduled and ultimately cancelled.    It was determined that an MRCP would be a safer option, this specific scan can target the area they need to see and give very detail results... I am so glad that someone discovered this scan existed, it must have just been approved in the days before this, as I am sure that no medical professional would ever let a family be batted back and forth for weeks over one specific treatment that was too dangerous, considering the severity of this situation, when a perfectly safe option was right before them.  One would think.

As you can see my sense of humor has kicked in, in this case all I can do is joke now, because that is what this was becoming.  My sense of humor came from my dad, and it was so nice to see that his was making a comeback as well.  He started to joke with the nurses and his visitors.  What a refreshing change this was to see.  The sparkle in his eye was there when his grandkids came to see him. 

Thanksgiving was upon us, and we had so much to be thankful for.  Dad was slowly coming around and this made life easier for us all.  It was a hard holiday for us to get through without him being with us, so the decision was made to postpone it until he was better so he could enjoy it with us.  One of our traditions has always been to each share what we are thankful for when we sit for thanksgiving dinner.  This year, we would not share that moment, but in our minds we all knew.  Many years with this wonderful man, lessons he had taught us, trips we had taken, moments in time we would never forget.  That is what we were, and always will be thankful for.

Quite obviously I never made the choice to become a nurse, but one would think that in nursing school the object of compassion would be taught.  I can tell you that for most of the duration of my dad’s stay in the hospital we would not be so lucky with compassionate nursing staff. 

For a strong, independent man to become so dependent on other people was a bitter pill for him to swallow.  The situation was made drastically worse due to the many days he had to sit in his room, in isolation, with food he could smell sitting outside his door, out of his reach, all because kitchen staff would not gown up to bring it to his bedside.  Countless times I would arrive to visit him and find cold food waiting in the hall outside his door.  I would ask him how long he had waited for it, and sometimes it was upwards of 45 minutes.  Talk about a helpless feeling.  This is what cutbacks in our hospitals are causing.  It makes these nurses so busy that they do not have time to deliver a meal from the hallway to a bedside table.  It causes them to overlook a patient who has gotten sick on himself, and buzzed 3 times for help.  It keeps them away from someone who needs assistance to get to the bathroom, who would eventually attempt going by themselves only to have an accident on the floor.  Those same nurses would then point the family of this patient to the linen closet to get the sheets and gowns needed to clean up these messes.  This happened too many times to count, and that is sad.  This is what is happening in our hospitals? It scares me to think that other people may face the same degrading situations that we did.  The little confidence my dad could have had was taken away from him on a daily basis, when I would arrive the look of horror on his face knowing what I was about to find.  Imagine how that made him feel, to have his daughter clean up after him.  I am choosing to tone down the unimaginable events that we were faced with at that hospital, only because I do know nurses who work there and I would like to think that they do not want to be placed in a category with the nurses that we had the misfortune of dealing with.  To be honest it sickens me.

My level of anger had reached an all-time high, there were many days that I would have loved to just take him home and be his private nurse so that I could be assured he would never sit in soiled clothing, or wait for a meal that was just out of reach. 

Above all of this he still held his head high, as high as he could consider.  He still held hope that one of these tests would show something, anything that would lighten the severity of this. 

This was my lowest moment to date.. Not because of my dad's illness or what we were going through, but because I had to be witness to such a travesty at our local hospital.  To worry about leaving each night for fear that my dad would sit unattended to for hours and not be able to get to the bathroom.. Or worry that if I didn't arrive right at meal times my dad would have to sit without food.  I somewhat understand the situation he was in being quarantined or whatever it was they called it.  You couldn't just walk into his room, you had to fully gown and glove in the hall each time you left and entered the room.

The Choices in Life

As I sit here on a Friday night surfing through the absolute nothing that appears in front of me as I flip through the 400 some odd channels on our cable box, I am forced to turn off the tv and sit in silence.  The silence of my house, where my husband sleeps on the couch across the room, my 6 year old lays entangled in his bed sheets which I have to completely strip and remake each morning when he slides out of bed still wrapped in those sheets and drops them onto the floor, and my sweet innocent 3 year old daughter sprawled in a star fish shape sleeps taking up more than half of a queen size bed.  All 30 lbs, 36" of adorableness with beads of sweat on her upper lip and her hair starting to curl up on her forehead from how hot she is even though she has managed to kick off her sheets yet again.  The thoughts that flow through my mind are of the good old days. 
The days when I would just be jumping in the shower at this time of night, after making a few phone calls to make sure plans were still on with my friends.  The days of heading out the door at 11pm to start my night, and rolling in at 3am to crawl into my bed where I would not move from until at least noon the next day. 
My responsibilities included covering my early shifts for the weekends so I knew work would not interfere with my social life.  Making sure I had a new outfit for the bar was a neccesity, and that I had enough money in my account for the gas in my car, and plenty of drinks was mandatory!
These were the days when my friends were who I lived for, hanging out, late night chats at each others houses or on the phone, and always making sure I worked enough shifts during the week so my weekends would be mine.  Those were the days...
Flash forward 12 years and here I am on a Friday night and my responsibilities are much different now.  My life consists of working enough in a week so I know my bills are paid, and there is food on the table and clothes for my kids.  That has been tough this year, with the life of self employment that we have both chosen there are times when we have to sacrifice one thing so we know we can provide.  We do our best. 
I wonder if my parents had the same struggles when we were young children, the self employed life they lived as my dad dropped out of high school to start working with my grandpa.  I remember lots of things about my younger years.  Very happy memories, lots of fun family times and moments that will last a lifetime. 
Alot of the choices I make now, would have seemed very obsolete back in the "good old days" to ever have imagined sitting at home on a Friday night would have been socially wrong, but now as I walk from room to room turning off night lights and lightly kissing both my children as they dream I know that these are in fact the good days, and i wouldn't change a thing. 
The memories I have from when I was a child, wonderful memories with my family.  All the life experiences I had in my teens, and the things I learned in my early 20's have formed me into who I am today.  I am a mother.
My new life of friday nights spent quietly in front of the tv while everyone in my house is fast asleep is exactly where I want to be and I wouldn't give that up for anything.

Chapter 7

CCAC nurses came to the house frequently to check in on him, test his blood, and take his temp.  A patient receiving chemo is at a dangerous risk of developing fever.  In the event that his fever spiked we were told to take him to emerg immediately.  All these directions, and orders, schedules, and medications, Nothing was simple anymore.  My mom had the most complicated job of all, trying to deal with dad.  We know this long battle has just begun.  His days were spent mostly sleeping, and relaxing in his lazy boy chair.  When he felt up to it he did take small walks around the house as to keep his strength up.  He became very quiet, and did not want company.  The fact that someone like him was not up for visitors showed us just how much he was really suffering inside.  He never showed us, or expressed to us what he was feeling, even though we could see it, and watch him change in front of us, he always did his best to try and keep us positive.  Even in times like this, he worried not about himself.  We noticed that dad became very itchy, we assumed it was the radiation drying his skin out,  but  at one point the itching became so bad, that a trip to the ER in the middle of the night was made.  The doctors discovered he had hives.  He was literally scratching his skin off, and had to be put on an antihistamine to relieve it.  He likely had an allergic reaction to one of the many drugs he was on.  He went days without eating a thing, and only living off meal replacement shakes when he could keep them down.  Watching this happen was ripping me up inside.  How could this disease do such damage to a person.  The doctors had told us what to expect, but nothing they said could have prepared us for what we were seeing.  In the matter of 6 weeks my dad had lost 30 lbs and was slowly fading away to nothing but skin and bones.  When I went to see him, he was always sitting in his chair covered in blankets because he was always cold.  He was so frail, this wasn’t my dad anymore.  This was the disease taking him over, and it became more and more difficult to watch. 

As September came, Max and Samantha were set to start Junior Kindergarten.  It was to be such an exciting time in our lives, but it was only filled with sadness.  My dad would never have missed this.  I was starting to see change in Max, and I’m sure it was because of what he was seeing happen to his papa.  Charlee was too young to really understand what was happening, yet she never even paused before climbing up on papa’s lap when we visited.  She would cuddle up to him and tell him she loved him.  Max was very set back, and had to be persuaded that it was ok to even touch dad.  I could see the confusion in his little eyes and that was too much to bear. 

The next few weeks I seen my dad go through daily trips to London to receive radiation on the brain. After which he started his first round of chemo which lasted 3 days with 3 weeks off in between each round.  As though this wasn’t enough, they also started the radiation on his lung, this “simple” procedure, so he put it, would start to slowly burn the inside of his mouth and throat, it would dry his skin to the point where he couldn’t stand the itching, and kill his taste buds.  Not so simple anymore.  A task such as eating became a battle on its’ own.  He had lost any sensation to taste, therefore food did not appeal to him.  My mom tried her best to do what she could to get him to eat.  Even going so far as to order him meal replacement shakes, you would think this would be ok, something cool on his throat should have worked.  However it got to the point that he could not keep food down.  The sickness had set in.  All the awful things you hear about cancer patients going through treatment are true.  It`s so difficult to watch someone you love so much going through this and knowing there is nothing you can do to help.  All we could do was be there for him and show him we all were fighting this with him!! He was so tired from the treatments that to stand was a chore. 

One afternoon after a visit from a nurse left us again reeling with confusion.  Her attention was drawn to his weight loss.  He had lost 5 pounds in one week, and this was definetly not a good sign.  He was faced with a choice, to force himself to eat, or slowly fade away.  It was evident that he wanted to try, but his will to fight was fading just as quickly as his weight. 
He began to move less, and became weaker and weaker.  It was evident to us one afternoon after he collapsed while trying to walk to the washroom that we needed to make a decision.  We decided he needed to be sent back to the hospital.  Upon arriving in the ER we waited for him to be assessed, and this is when Dr. Realist entered our lives.  He became the one person in the medical field I could actually put trust into and I believed would not lie to me.   Dad’s blood pressure was dangerously low, I mean 60 on the high end and no reading on the low end.   They had trouble inserting an IV because of how bruised his arms were from all the previous poking. 

From this point on, we were told straight up that his chances for survival are not looking good.  After extensive blood work we discovered that his protein, sodium, and electrolyte counts were very low.  He was dehydrated and all around in bad shape.  To say he was dry as a bone is sugar coating it!  His liver enzymes counts and billy ruben were so high which were causing his skin to appear tanned and yellow.  His blood was so thin he was at a risk of internal bleeding.. So needless to say things were looking grim.  The bad news just seemed to keep coming, and my bad dream was very quickly becoming a sad reality.  He had to eat or face being put on a feeding tube.  The treatments required him to be at full strength and with his body so weak he would never make it through another chemo treatment.  This was a shock for dad to hear I’m sure, but it was at that point that he realized just how imperative it was that he eats! 

In the days to come dad was seen in London by one of his oncologists who was very concerned with his liver and decided that before dad’s next radiation treatment he wanted him to have a catscan of the liver so he could see what’s going on.   Needless to say that on dad’s next visit to London we found out that the results had never been sent to the doctor there.  This was why things were so frustrating for me! These are the problems we had along the way, with 4+ doctors involved in his case it was very hard to get straight answers from anyone.  Finally a week later the results were in but it was another rock for us to climb over.  The scan showed that the liver was clear but there was spots on the kidney that were in fact shrinking from the radiation and chemo he was receiving.  The visciousness of this disease was becoming more and more evident to us.  It was rearing it’s ugly head in yet another part of his already frail body.  It was like getting a high five and then a slap in the face all in the same split second.  No cancer in the liver… but! We are certain it’s now in the kidney.  How much can one person take?  Looking back now, we should have taken him home and enjoyed every last second we had with him.  If we had only known what the next few months would bring. 

The one part of this that still to this day confuses me is that they could not figure out what was happening with his liver.  His counts were so high, I’m talking 280 high, Normal is around 17, now you know what I mean.  Not one of his these highly trained experts could figure out what was wrong.  One doctor thought it could be the drain from the gall bladder not working properly and causing irritation to the liver.  Another couldn’t be convinced it wasn’t cancer infact spreading, and another simply figured his liver was shutting down due to the amount of cancer in his body.  What was it about this disease, it seemed that with everyday that passed it spread further and further. 

It was at this point that the doctors started talking about a more aggressive form of treatment, knowing now that the kidneys were affected, their original plan it seemed had to change.  My thoughts, his body isn't handling the treatments he is having now, how is he going to handle anything more aggressive.  At some point, we had to make the decision to scale back on treatments and just try to have some quality of life with him before the end.  A person can only take so much, and this difficult difficult decision was slowly coming upon us.  With doctors telling him he had just days to start fighting harder, eating and showing signs of improvement we knew that he had a decision to make.   With his entire family in his corner we all silently watched and waited.  

Chapter 6

With each step forward we thought he had took, something else came up and he was set back 2 steps.  This ongoing battle just kept getting worse.  The anger inside me built over someone’s plain stupidity.  How could a surgeon NOT know what he was doing, and if he did not know what he was doing, why would he even attempt to screw around with it.  Could have been the end of his shift and he really wanted to go home to his family, and then the page came in for a consult in the ICU, so my dad was his victim.  Thankfully, the doctors in London who installed this drain were able to catch this mistake and we hoped there were no ill side effects from what had happened.  Even though dad’s blood work showed that his billy ruben count and liver enzymes were not what they should be, we were hopeful that now that the drain was working properly this would turn around.  All the while this went on we had to wait for results of this pet scan.  Try and live our lives like “normal” until dad went to London to meet with his oncologists to receive his results and discuss radiation treatments starting.  He was told that the petscan did not show any signs that the cancer had spread to other organs. Finally, something positive to go on, It seems that for the time being we just have this infection to deal with and once it’s cleared up things will go forward.  While in London dad also received his first radiation treatment on the brain.  “It was simple”, he told me, “it lasts just a few seconds, and then its done”.  Well that doesn’t sound hard.  One treatment down, and only 9 more to go on the brain.  He was a survivor and it was going to take more than this to keep him down!

It’s hard to explain what was going on in my mind over this first month, my dad had so many things going against him, and I was watching him change right before my eyes.  His head had been shaved for the brain surgery, and all the weight he had gained while on the steroids was slowly disappearing.  His skin had a tan/yellow tone to it, and the spark in his eye, was no longer there.  The journey had just begun, though dad looked like a worn traveler.  His blood counts were very low and his energy level too.  Slowly but surely dad’s vitals started coming back to normal, for the time being.  His elevated heart was finally beating normal after 2 weeks, and his blood pressure was coming back up.  His appearance was still very yellow but we thought it was improving as well, we were all very hopeful that sooner than later he would be back home. 

He was released from the hospital on Wednesday August 18 after his levels had all come back to normal.  We knew that the next few months would be difficult, he had to travel daily to London for radiation and chemo was set to start on August 19, (even though this would not happen yet) my dad had had a few treatments of radiation and was starting to feel the effects.  The decision was made to put the chemo on hold until the radiation on the brain was complete.  At this time, blood clots were discovered in my dad’s lung, which meant he had to be put onto yet another medication to thin the blood.  He would have nurses coming to check in on him while he was at home. 
Some news would surface at this point, that something was in fact discovered in the pet scan, that we would not be told about until this point.  There was some spots found on the kidneys that needed some further testing to see if in fact this was part of the cancer or not.  We knew that this type of cancer was fast spreading, but could it in fact spread this fast? If in fact these spots on the kidney were cancer, the course of treatment would change.   So now chemo was out the question until they could do another cat scan to determine what these spots were on the kidney.  The plan was to compare this scan to a scan they would do later after the first round of chemo.  If the spots reacted to the chemo treatment in any way, they would know that it was cancer.  The only other option was for another biopsy which was an invasive procedure that they did not feel necessary for dad at this point.  All this information made my mind reel, I could literally not handle anymore bad news.  I realize that this must sound extremely selfish to be thinking of no one but myself at this moment.  I just could not imagine what my dad was thinking at this point, and he was very hard to speak to about this.  He stopped expressing much feeling and we had trouble talking about the subject. 

The doctors explained that if the cancer had in fact spread to the kidney we would be facing yet another set back.  There would be 2 options, one would be to add another round of radiation attacking the kidney directly, the 2^nd option was to consult with a surgeon to see if part of the kidney could be removed.  We were told that it would be hard to find a surgeon who would perform surgery on someone with this advanced stage of cancer.  It seemed like this road just became a little longer, and a lot rougher.  The feeling of any hope seemed to diminish a little more as each day passed.  We just had to hope that once chemo finally started, these mystery spots would turn out to be nothing and we could continue on the original plan of treatment. 
Things were changing so quickly around me, it became confusing from one doctors appt to another, as we would hear such different opinions and there were so many people involved in his case.  There was times when I was frustrated with my family, for many different reasons but deep down I knew that we needed to stick together more than ever right now.  Emotion and frustration were wearing me down very quickly, and I know Mike and the kids were feeling it.  I had become a different person because I had no outlet to vent my anger.  I felt almost trapped, I had to try and be so positive around everyone, especially dad, but really I just wanted to scream most of the time.  This wasn’t fair, why was this happening to my dad,  To my family! To me it seemed there had to be someone else who actually deserved to have this happen to them, not my dad!

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.