I was hoping to blog about so many other things. I was hoping to blog about my dear little baby. Or my 35th birthday today, or my first Mothers’ Day as a mother tomorrow.
My mom’s first scans showed remission, but now my dad has a rare and horrible form of brain cancer, and my mom is his caregiver 24/7, day in, day out, as though he were a baby. My dad’s state has been so bad I don’t even want to write about it as it is an assault on his dignity. All I can say is that if I had a dog in the state my father is in, I’d have euthanized the dog and put it out of its misery. Life is ugly when your brain doesn’t work. I live in a perpetual state of guilt that I do not go to the hospital enough. The main reason is that I have an infant, but the secret reason is that sometimes it’s harder for me to see my dad than not to see him. I lost my father three months ago. The person who remains doesn’t usually wake up when I come to see him, and when he does he doesn’t say anything, and he calls me by my aunt’s name.
We have no family history of cancer. Nada. I don’t understand how this could have happened to us–not once, but twice. And right when I had a little infant–on her three month birthday, eleven days after I returned to work.
If my dad had died three months ago, I could grieve and move on with my life. Instead he lingers in a state that is not-dad, as someone who cannot do the most basic things. He has a week of chemo every other week–and the sliver of hope is almost worse than if the worst had happened, immediately.
We celebrate small things–“oh, today he said a few words,” or “today he remembered my name.” And I cannot believe what he has been reduced to.
My life has just been storms, for two straight years. I was looking forward to so many things, if/when my mom went into remission, only to be right back in the maelstrom. And now I wonder…
- Will I ever write again?
- Will I ever be able to return to exercising?
- Will I ever be able to move to a job I like?
- Will I ever be happy again?
I am hanging on these days by the thinnest of threads.