Sunday, April 4, 2010

Easter Musings

On this holiday, I find myself reflecting (as I often do on holidays) about the importance of family. It's become ever so more important as both ES and I find our respective fathers struggling with disease, both of whom are effected in different ways.

I think for me, the hardest part is the feeling of complete helplessness. With ES' father, its not just the distance of over 1000 miles away, it's losing him to a disease that now matter how close we physically we, we're losing him to it bit by bit every day. It's so hard to watch him on the phone and realize his dad has trouble recognizing him and often is confused on the phone. Alzheimer's is a sneaky disease. One that robs a person of their dignity and steals them away bit by bit while those around them struggle to care and cope for their loved one. ES has an amazing family, who take extra specially care of my FIL by visiting often and posting updates to family blog.

While we've known about my FIL's illness for sometime and it's progression had only rapidly come on in the last year, my father's illness was rapid, unexpected, and very frightening. Cancer is such a scary word. Scary because, despite all the clinical progress that has been made towards a cure/treatment, there is still no much we don't know. My father's diagnosis came on Christmas eve. 3 spots. I wasn't sure what to think. Christmas was a bit of a somber affair this year, as we knew of the challenging surgery that lie ahead. Fast forward ~1 month. Surgery scheduled for early February. It was a sobering time, as my grandmother had just passed away and we were all preparing ourselves for my dad's surgery.

The removal of the right lobe of the lung revealed what we'd hoped wasn't true. Cancer. Malignant cancinoid. Carcinoid I thought. Hmmm. Is that like a little tumor? That can't be so bad, right? The surgeon explained it could be one of two types. One type equaled a much better prognosis. The other, much more grim. The surgeon, however, gave us home it was the former, as less than 5% were the latter. Unfortunately, the path report indicated it was the latter. Atypical. Plus it had spread. The current thought is that it has spread to his diaphragm. I remember talking to my mom when they found out the results. She said she and my dad had a good cry and vowed to forge on. I can only imagine how challenging this much have been. Thankfully my family is very close as well. I think knowing this is a fight we are facing together somehow makes it easier.

Being I'm a scientist and my brother a surgeon, we took to the clinical studies with gusto. What's out there? What is the prognosis? Treatment? The more I looked, the more I didn't want to keep reading. Not responsive to radiation or chemo. Treatment by surgical removal of the tumor and surrounding tissue. This is where the scary part comes. Surgery and more surgery to remove the tumors as they are found. Round 3 with the oncologist this week, who may offer my father chemo. Given the clinical results (or lack thereof) from treatment with his type of cancer will this work? Plus my father's heart isn't the strongest (which eliminates him from any clinical trials - found that out the very day we got the cancer diagnosis while I was on the NCI website), making chemo risky.

Now it is a matter of deciding what to do. Cancer/chemo or treating his heart. I can only imagine the choice that my father must be having to deal with. We often have this picture in our mind of our parents, which were made quite young. Invincible. Always right/had the answer. Made everything all better. It's hard when this picture changes and disease starts taking them from you.

Happy Easter to all. Hug your family, friends, and loved ones. Cherish every day with them. Let them know how important they are to you. Make every day count.

1 comment:

Nuclear Mom said...

Cancer is so brutal. Thinking about and praying for you and your family.