Bombs away! Chemo #3

I wish I had the strength of my dad. I'd be happy with just an ounce of it.

He never ceases to amaze me.

Yesterday, the morning of his third round of chemo, he texted me:

"Getting ready for round three of the bombing of cancer cells! Bombs away!"

Everyone tells him to stay positive, be strong, have faith. We appreciate all of those sentiments but the ironic thing is no one needs to tell him! He's never wavered in his faith or his strength. Ever.

We've always known that attitude is half the battle and, for the last 19 years, his attitude has been nothing but positive. There are days that I wonder how he does it. I remember a few years ago when the cancer came back he said, "It's just a bump in the road. We'll get over it." We did.  At the time of another recurrence he said, " I'm not going anywhere. God's not done with me yet!"  He wasn't.

Each time, he's kicked cancer's ass and there's no reason to believe that he won't do it again.

Everyone is scared and gets all "gloom and doom" when they hear the word "chemo".

No one ever wants to have to take chemo; me included.

It's not like you raise your hand with excitement and say, "Oooh! Pick me! I wanna do it!"

But it also isn't the end of the world..... as we are realizing now.

I remember in the past Dad was terrified of having to take chemo and with each recurrence of this bitch called cancer, we were all relieved that there were plenty of other options before chemo.  ("We're not going to kill an ant with a sledgehammer," said the incredible Dr. Katcher.) However, after the pain that Dad endured starting last Fall, chemo was all of a sudden not such a fateful option. In fact, I remember in December when Dad told me if chemo would help take his pain away he wanted to start right away. Yep, the pain was THAT bad. He was taking two oxycodone every 3-4 hours and sometimes that was barely even dulling the pain. Plus oxycodone on its own will make you feel nasty and useless.

Since starting chemo, his pain has decreased tremendously - he's now only taking one oxy every 8-12 hours and usually on the higher end of that range; often just 1 or 2 in a 24-hour period!! I can't begin to explain how incredible this is! It was absolutely devastating for me and Mom to see him in miserable pain for so long and not being able to do anything to help him.

Yes, chemo is making him lose his hair (but it was thin anyway, bald men are sexy and he loves baseball caps).

Yes, he's extremely fatigued and weak (but it gets a little better a week or so after chemo).

Yes, he can usually smell food but can't really taste it (but that comes back a week or so after chemo).

Yes, he can't drink wine five days before or five days after chemo and even when he does it has to be at a minimum (but I'm drinking for him and also purchasing awesome bottles and cellaring them to share with him when cancer's ass is kicked again).

Dad is an incredible patient. He does what medical professionals tell him (and what his inquisitive and research-crazy daughter tells him). We will do the best we can with what we've got and turn the rest over to God. We will worry about what we can control and let the rest happen according to His plan. It's not always easy but it has worked so far! It's what faith is all about!

Now is not the time to question.

Chemo #3 went well. It's always a long day - anywhere between two and five hours. Then the next day is an injection.  But it's a routine now. He's feeling good so far today and we'll take it. We take each day as it comes now.  It would be easy to throw a temper tantrum and scream, "It's just not fair!" or "Why is this happening!?" (and don't think I don't do that sometimes!)

 But what good would it do? Absolutely none.

At the age of 17, Dad was drafted and sent to Vietnam as part of the 1st Air Cav to fight in a senseless war. On Friday, March the 13th, he was wounded in combat (received a Purple Heart/Combat Infantry Badge) and fortunately didn't succumb to his wounds as many of his fellow soldiers did. While recuperating from his wound, he was fortunate enough to find the 1st Cav Band rehearsing nearby and went to listen. After their rehearsal, Dad got to audition for the band and then drummed his way right out of the Infantry and into the Army Band! Everything happens for a reason.

 While Vietnam was a senseless war (don't get me started on that topic), if Dad had not been wounded, he wouldn't have found the band and he and my mom also wouldn't have been able to live in Germany and experience the places and culture they did as a result. Everyone fears Friday the 13th, but for my dad it was a lucky day. Or was it?  I like to think it wasn't mere coincidence but it was all part of a bigger plan.

There is no doubt in my mind that Dad's prostate cancer is a result of Agent Orange. No one will ever convince me otherwise. Is this part of God's plan also? It must be. Eventually, we'll understand why, but right now that's still a huge question looming on our minds and hearts.

In the meantime, we will keep plugging along. Dad is a fighter. He always has been - in mind, body and spirit. If he can survive Vietnam as a young man, he definitely isn't going to let cancer take him down now.

One thing is for certain.
He will never have to fight alone.

This world has nothing for me.

This life is not my own.

I know you go before me and I am not alone.

This mountain rises higher.

The way seems so unclear.

But I know that you go with me so I will never fear.

I will trust in you.

What ever will come our way -through fire or pouring rain, we won't be shaken.

No, we won't be shaken.

What ever tomorrow brings, together we'll rise and sing that we won't be shaken.

No, we won't be shaken.

We will trust in you.

We will not be moved.

We will trust in you and we won't be shaken.

- Building 29

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bDYWOH-q-RI