Just as I feared, the trip my dad took to the emergency room was perhaps the beginning of bigger problems. His doctor is concerned that the fluid that build up in his abdomen was caused by the chemotherapy drugs not working anymore. He's going to get another CAT scan soon, and beyond that there are a couple more intense drugs he can try here. If those don't work, his next option is treatment at one of the cancer centers in Houston or Dallas. He said he wasn't sure he'd do it. He told me a sad story about how he believed his own father was relieved to die after so long spent weak and in pain. I don't know what to say or do.
He's started to make out his will, and he's begun to get rid of and give away his things. He's preparing to die, and I'm not ready for this. He spent an hour or two yesterday telling me more about what would happen to his assets, his life insurance and his belongings when he dies and what James and I should do afterwords.
He's nearly 60, and his own mother is still alive. I'm not even 30 yet, and the woman who raised me died when I was 18. Now my dad is planning to die within the next five years. I had been putting off finding a therapist for years, but I think now is the time. After Lisa died, it took me years to cry. Now it feels almost like she was never real at all: just someone I made up to fill a motherless void. I started painting my fingernails because it reminds me of her.
Tags: #barislife #cancer