Decisions.

I'll remember today. At least, parts of it. I've recounted most of what happened earlier, including the lung cancer diagnosis. Now for the latest news:

The lung cancer is of a type I've never heard. It's called malignant mesothelioma, and it's caused from previous exposure to asbestos. Amazingly, Dad didn't get it from smoking all those years. No, his prior work history is to blame this time. Long ago, Dad had the opportunity to join a class action suit against Dow, his employer of 30 years, and he declined. "Hell, I knew it was bad back then, but I chose to work. I'm not gonna sue them when I made the choice myself." Typical Dad. It's inoperable, by the way. In his current condition, he wouldn't survive chemo, radiation, and I don't think that surgery can even be done for this crap. Not that he would survive that, either.

Anyway, they found and identified the cancer cells from the fluid that they took from Dad's lungs. They take the fluid out, and it just comes right back. He's on a real Darth Vader mask now, a BiPAP. He's not getting better.

After spending the morning with Dad (and shuffling me around as well) we came back to Mom's house in the afternoon. Then, Mom got a call from the cancer doctor, and we left the house like it was on fire to get back to the hospital to talk with the doc. He was a very nice man, and he spoke with as much tact and clarity as is possible when delivering this type of diagnosis. We discussed options, the difference between Hospice and Home Care, and we talked about what Dad would probably want. Then, it was time to take all that info to Dad and hear his opinion.

We got back in the room and started to talk to Dad about the situation. As soon as we started talking about the cancer, he said, "Take this mask off!" Thinking he was about to jump out of the bed, we quickly helped him get it off, and then he said, "BEDPAN!" Apparently, he just needed to go, and wanted to make that desire perfectly clear.

Fortunately, I'm a licensed bedpan technician, so we were able to take care of him quickly and easily, but the whole effort still wore him out. Afterwards, we got him comfortable again, replaced the mask, and let him rest for a few minutes.

"I suppose y'all want my decision."

What? We were a touch surprised, thinking that he hadn't heard all of our discussion, but knowing Dad as we do, we should have figured that he'd be paying attention. We said yes, we did certainly want to hear his thoughts on the matter.

"Take me home...make me comfortable...and let me go."




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It was the tone of his voice that broke me. And inspired me. And reminded me why I love my Dad the way I do. I'm glad I was here to hear him say this. I don't think I've ever heard braver words spoken aloud. I'm just grateful that I've been able to spend this time with him.

There are more details, more thoughts and feelings, and yes, even more humorous commentary, but to be honest, I think I'm done for right now. I'll touch base again tomorrow sometime.