Today, my dad endured yet another round of chemo. He dreads it. Mom and I do as well. I hate chemo day. Not just for the obvious reasons but because once chemo day is over then I know I "lose" my dad for about eight days. I feel more helpless than usual. I am the fixer. I hate when I can't fix things. The good news is that on the eighth day after chemo, Dad miraculously starts slowly feeling better and turning back into my dad. That is until the next round. We're lucky that Dad has almost two weeks of good days. We're lucky that Dad has any good days at all. I try to reinforce that thought but during those eight days it's really difficult for Dad to be positive... and understandably so. I don't know how he does it - I'm not so sure I could.
It would be easy to sit back right now and be angry, to be resentful and to ask the simple question of "why". In fact, I do that quite often. However, it doesn't get me anywhere. Nothing changes as a result of screaming at God. Things do change though when I delve into my faith and believe that everything happens for a reason. We may not understand the reason right now but one day we will. We always do.
While I'm reflecting on 2015, the one thing that I tend to focus on is where Dad was this time last year. It was a completely different place and not a good one. He would say that right now isn't a good place to be either and I understand that but hear me out. I tend to feel better when I put things into perspective. This time last year, it was a nightmare. He's come so far in a year.
In December 2014 Dad was in tremendous pain. No warning. No explanation. He had severe pain in his hip, his back and his ribs. He had to walk with a cane. He had to take oxycodone every three hours, 24/7, and it still didn't take away the pain. When the bump on the back of his head appeared it just about smacked me in the face. Long story short, I feared the worst. When prostate cancer spreads, it is known for spreading to the bone. The pain Dad was having was all surrounding bony structures. I didn't say anything out loud but inside I was screaming at the top of my lungs. The thing we had dreaded the last 20 years was coming true. Dad's cancer was back and it had metastasized to the bone. That's exactly what the bone scan showed. For once, I wished I was wrong.
The other thing Dad had always dreaded in his almost 20 year journey to annihilate cancer was that he'd have to endure chemo. In February 2015, Dad started chemo. All of a sudden, chemo wasn't the devil anymore. Why? Because chemo was the only option left. Chemo would hopefully save Dad's life.
When Dad started chemo his PSA was at 101. When he was first diagnosed with prostate cancer it was in the high 20s. Anything over a 2 or 3 is dangerous so you can understand our fear. After taking a huge decline in the beginning and continuing to decline throughout the year, the PSA has recently slowed down and is starting to plateau. His latest PSA is at 13. Sure it's not 0. But it's also not 101.
In a matter of a year, Dad has had to endure poison coursing through his entire body.... on purpose. It sucks. No, it is absolutely devastating. But you know what? That poison is working. His hair may be gone but the visible tumor on his skull is also gone. The neuropathy in his legs, feet, arms and hands may be unbearable and worsening but that's a result of the chemo; not the cancer. His fatigue and weakness is debilitating at times but he has the ability to rest and that's what his body needs in order to recover. He has an incredible wife who is serving as his 24/7 caregiver. Many people in Dad's condition (or worse) do not have such a loving person by their side. The unbearable pain caused by the cancer is gone. All of the pain that the cancer was causing this time last year is nonexistent. Chemo is working!
As I reflect on the past year and I think about all that my dad (and my mom) have been through in Dad's journey to kick prostate cancer's ass yet again, I feel so blessed. Really, you ask? How can I feel blessed if my dad's cancer has come back for the fifth time and it's worse than ever? I am thankful for my dad's oncologist and his team of nurses. I am thankful for my mother and her undying devotion to my dad. I am thankful for my dad's strength and faith even when it could be so very easy for him to give up. I am thankful for our friends and family who pray for him on a daily basis. I am thankful for Denny's Shotgun Riders. I am thankful to my non-profit support system and new family, ZERO.
Chemo is a bitch and why we don't have a cure for cancer by now is incomprehensible to me. Why we have to resort to pumping poison into someone's body causing them to become sicker makes no sense to me. But ironically, I am thankful for that poison. Why? The absolute truth is that without chemo my dad wouldn't be here right now.
As you're thinking about what's happened in 2015 and what your possible resolutions and goals are for 2016, take a moment and consider what your blessings are. I bet you don't even realize how fortunate you really are in this life. If you need some reassurance or a reality check, hit me up. I'll be happy to help.
Be safe on New Year's Eve and be thankful. Take it from my parents and me, your life can change in an instant. May God bless you all with a loving, happy and healthy 2016. Thank you all for keeping my parents in your prayers. It truly means more than know.
What if your blessings come through raindrops
What if your healing comes through tears
What if the thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know you're near
What if the trials of this life are your mercies in disguise
What if your healing comes through tears
What if the thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know you're near
What if the trials of this life are your mercies in disguise
- Laura Story
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