I Don't Want Him To Be Scared

Trying to keep my regular life going.  Worked today, went to the gym, practiced 1 hour.

But Daddy is dying.

All that work and planning for Assisted Living facilities, budget, disability, social security.  Now the cancer is back.  And here are the options:

1 - no treatment - die soon

2 - methotrexate into spine - 3-4 months

3 - port into his brain to do smaller doses of methotrexate - 3-4 months

I just want him to talk about it.  I'm scared he won't be ready for death.  But he has never dealt with the reality of his body.  I don't want him to be scared.  I don't want him to be alone.  He's in denial or maintaining hope.  I want someone to tell me how to deal with this.  I'm angry.  I get angry at people.  And I'm angry with God.  It's not fair.

Look at me, trying to tell a dying man how to feel about death.  I just don't want him to be scared.  to be afraid until the very end.  - Miranda, July 2007 

I had just turned 26.  This was my dad's third round of cancer.  Tumors on his adrenal glands were treated with chemotherapy.  The metastasized brain tumors brought rounds of radiation.  During all those treatments, I was handling his finances - making sure bills were paid, etc.  My brother, sister, and I were looking at facilities for my dad, because he could barely walk and was becoming increasingly blind.  I learned all about different chemo drugs, ports, radiation masks - information I wish I never had to learn.  I wish that no one had to learn about that.  I was trying to live my life, just like anyone else, but I was also a caretaker.  Emotions came in waves, or all at once.  Reading (and writing) this makes me cry.  I don't really remember much from that time in my life.  Grief is a funny thing.  The things I remember are the simple ones, like a stranger holding the door for me at a store.  You never really know what someone else is going through.  Patience and kindness can sometimes do more for someone than we will ever know.