I Miss My Dad
My dad was a truck driver, and he took my mom on the road with him. I was at work when I got a text from my mom saying that they would be coming into town either that night, or the next day. My apartment was a mess so I begged them to not come until the next day. They listened to my request. The next day I was getting ready for work and my mom texted me that they were going to the ER. I decided to call out of work, and headed to the hospital where my parents were. My dad was still in the ER, and we were waiting for the doctors to come back with the details of some test they had run. We waited for an hour, joking around as we do. Finally the doctor came in, and he drew a picture on the whiteboard of my dad’s lungs, and of the mass that was wrapping itself around his lung. I don’t know how I didn’t fall apart at that moment, my heart didn’t even stop. Instead I listened and processed the information calmly, I asked questions, and then we prepared for my dad to be admitted to the hospital for a biopsy. Then the doctors were concerned with the possibility of a collapsed lung during the procedure. They referred us to a specialist that could do the biopsy without the danger of a collapsed lung. It took 3 days to find a doctor that could do the procedure that accepted my dad’s insurance. Only they wouldn’t do the biopsy without further testing. The biopsy was scheduled for nearly two weeks after he first went into the ER. During this time my father was sleeping (if you can call it that) on my couch, or in my bed. I was trying to get through finals and take care of both my mother and father. I remember laying in my living room hearing my father crying out in pain. I was heartbroken that there was nothing I could do for him, no matter how hard I tried. We ended up going to the ER again before his biopsy appointment because he was in so much pain. He was made to feel better in the hospital, but the pain returned with a vengeance after the meds wore off. Because we were only going to ER’s, and my dad didn’t have a primary care physician no one would prescribe him anything stronger than mild pain killers. Nothing worked to ease his pain. Finally I got him an appointment so he could get some pain medication that would do something for him. That doctor was amazing, and gave my father an actual narcotic, which still only dimmed my dad’s pain. I watched as my father became less and less himself, only I didn’t really see it at the time. I still had hope that we would be able to beat this. We finally went in for his biopsy. The nurse took his stats, immediately put him on oxygen, and the doctor came in. Before he even showed us the results of the scans that had been taken the week before he said that he was not going to be performing the procedure that day because my dad was so weak, and instead he was being admitted to the ER to be admitted to the hospital, most likely the ICU. At my mother’s request we saw the scans, and the doctor pointed out all the areas across my dad’s body that was covered in cancer. From there the ups and downs kept coming. We were told six months, no point in any kind of treatment. We were told treatment could enhance his quality of life, and give him a year. He went into the hospital on Thursday, and on Saturday I made the call to my brother and sisters that they needed to get here as soon as possible because the doctors had given him hours to days. We were able to be together with my dad while he was still alive. He passed away that Sunday.
I miss my dad so much. It’s been 2 ½ month, and it feels like it just happened yesterday. I cry, no I sob every single day. Sometimes it feels like I’ve punched in the stomach and a wave of pain rolls through my body. I’ve been told so many times, and I read everywhere that it will get better, but it really seems so unlikely. My dad is gone, and nothing will ever be the same again. There is no coping, no dealing, there is only accepting that he is gone. Forever gone. And I will be forever missing a piece of me.