daisybean
Rock n' Roll Doggie, FOB
I probably should just make this a journal entry...but right now I don't give a shit.
In March, it will be the 5th Anniversary of losing my Dad...Today is the 5th Anniversary of learning that he was sick, a little over a week later he went into the hospital and never came home. In Jan. '98 he wasn't feeling good, and we convinced him to go to the doctor, They gave him a colonoscopy (which showed nothing), and several tests that were inconclusive. They took several x rays that showed a tumor about the size of a quarter on his bladder, so they scheduled him a for a biopsy. The morning we took him in, he complained of stomach pain, but we figured it was his nerves, nonetheless, my mom told the doctor about his stomach pains. After the bladder biopsy, the surgeon took some more x rays and found a series of tumors in his lower intestine, that were not there two weeks prior. They decided to operate and take out 2/3 of his lower intestine. They staple him up and the doctor was confident that in a week he'd come home and get started on chemo. A couple of days after his first surgery his stomach started swelling again and it even popped out a couple of the stapes. So the surgeon went in again and removed another section of intestine that had the start of some more tumors. While they were there they decided to take samples from his kidney, liver, lungs, and bone. They found that the only organ without cancer cells were his lungs (surprising since he smoked 3 packs a day). However, the surgeon was still hopeful that with surgery and chemo he could beat it. The doctor even said that he would probably release him the next week.
The next week, we noticed that he wasn't quite right, disorientated, confused, forgetful. He even knew there was something wrong because he kept saying, "Something's not connected right." At first we thought it was the epideral drip of straight morphine talking, but the doctor decided to run some some tests. They found that his brain was not getting enough oxygen, causing the dementia of sorts. His body has stopped producing blood, thus the lack of oxygen. I can remember when my mom and I going into the hospital and being met by the doctor in the hallway. Basically the doctor said that he only had hours, a day at the most. He wanted to make sure that she would okay a DNR, mainly to keep the oncologists at bay. I guess they like to test thier new drugs and were insistant that they could keep giving him transfusions and by some strange miracle he'd start making his own blood again. So with the DNR we were able to prevent the oncologists from trying to prolong misery in the name of science.
He lived long enough for us to make sure that all the property and bank accounts were in my mom's name, my uncle even "bought out" his share of his mother's inheritance to prevent getting tangled in the legal red tape that was her will.
Sorry to ramble on like that about this...but damn I feel as horrible tonight as I did five years ago. Which brings me to my question in my title...what the hell is wrong with me? I thought it was supposed to get easier, not hurt as bad. I don't even know why this is hitting me so hard....I was not this upset on the other anniversaries....
I haven't even been to the grave since the funeral
My head hurts and I'm sick of typing.
In March, it will be the 5th Anniversary of losing my Dad...Today is the 5th Anniversary of learning that he was sick, a little over a week later he went into the hospital and never came home. In Jan. '98 he wasn't feeling good, and we convinced him to go to the doctor, They gave him a colonoscopy (which showed nothing), and several tests that were inconclusive. They took several x rays that showed a tumor about the size of a quarter on his bladder, so they scheduled him a for a biopsy. The morning we took him in, he complained of stomach pain, but we figured it was his nerves, nonetheless, my mom told the doctor about his stomach pains. After the bladder biopsy, the surgeon took some more x rays and found a series of tumors in his lower intestine, that were not there two weeks prior. They decided to operate and take out 2/3 of his lower intestine. They staple him up and the doctor was confident that in a week he'd come home and get started on chemo. A couple of days after his first surgery his stomach started swelling again and it even popped out a couple of the stapes. So the surgeon went in again and removed another section of intestine that had the start of some more tumors. While they were there they decided to take samples from his kidney, liver, lungs, and bone. They found that the only organ without cancer cells were his lungs (surprising since he smoked 3 packs a day). However, the surgeon was still hopeful that with surgery and chemo he could beat it. The doctor even said that he would probably release him the next week.
The next week, we noticed that he wasn't quite right, disorientated, confused, forgetful. He even knew there was something wrong because he kept saying, "Something's not connected right." At first we thought it was the epideral drip of straight morphine talking, but the doctor decided to run some some tests. They found that his brain was not getting enough oxygen, causing the dementia of sorts. His body has stopped producing blood, thus the lack of oxygen. I can remember when my mom and I going into the hospital and being met by the doctor in the hallway. Basically the doctor said that he only had hours, a day at the most. He wanted to make sure that she would okay a DNR, mainly to keep the oncologists at bay. I guess they like to test thier new drugs and were insistant that they could keep giving him transfusions and by some strange miracle he'd start making his own blood again. So with the DNR we were able to prevent the oncologists from trying to prolong misery in the name of science.
He lived long enough for us to make sure that all the property and bank accounts were in my mom's name, my uncle even "bought out" his share of his mother's inheritance to prevent getting tangled in the legal red tape that was her will.
Sorry to ramble on like that about this...but damn I feel as horrible tonight as I did five years ago. Which brings me to my question in my title...what the hell is wrong with me? I thought it was supposed to get easier, not hurt as bad. I don't even know why this is hitting me so hard....I was not this upset on the other anniversaries....
I haven't even been to the grave since the funeral
My head hurts and I'm sick of typing.