Beginning of August we received our latest results. If I say im writing this from the bottom of his hospice bed you may guess what the results were. However not everyone knows what a hospice is, and the difference between hospice and hospital so I will explain.
For roughly the last month of chemo dads attitude completely changed, and I really dont blame him.
Although he often told me how much he loved the quality time we spent together every friday, we've always known that chemo will not shrink dads type of Cancer, but will simply be used as a pain relief, and any other positives that come with it are a bonus. Dad was beginning to get more pain even with the chemo, and he already decided he did not want to go back on it after the two months break, but would hopefully try something different.
Truthfully I think we all expected a growth, but there is always a part of you that just thinks your overthinking and all will be normal. So when the results came back as a big growth we took the information in very well and accepted it, but two days later I found myself sobbing in my mums bed so worried that dad is scared, and wondering how we'll cope. she stroked my head and told me " we will be ok, dad isn't scared so we shouldn't be either."
Pancreas, spleen, deflated lung, stomach lining, blocked archery caused extreme pain in his testicles ( nads as he calls them )is where it has spread to.
Waiting for scan results becomes a weird balance of preparing yourself, but also not expecting anything.
So we got told that its spread too much to try anything else and chemo just wasn't helping the pain, and anyway he hated the "poxy stuff." All thats left is to manage the pain and keep him comfy! If you told me that a year ago I would have 100% screamed for another option. Its hard to explain the feelings of progression, this whole journey has meant we've all had to keep dads quality of life as our best interest and try and not be selfish. There is however, something so peaceful about dad. He accepts whats to come and is just grateful for every single person helping to try and relieve the pain.
it makes you feel proud, he's fought pancreatic cancer for a long time. Curiosity got the better of me, and I was so shocked. one year survival rate is 10%!!
I know we aren't meant to google but I realised I had been living in this little bubble, and I dont know if knowing that made it easier to handle the news of "its spread"
A lovely photo of my amazing parents in the hospice.( luckily I took this photo before dad became very sleepy, and before all the drugs meant he couldn't talk very well.)
We have had a doctor at the hospice since the beginning, as hospices are used for end of life care and also used for pain control. The doctor never pressured us but said if the pain gets too bad to come in and they will help with controlling it, then he can go home again. unfortunately it hasn't been that easy, but as ever were finding things to laugh about and puzzles to do! Dad has some super sonic pain threshold and often maxes out his drug allowance for the day, but is still in pain.
It is becoming quite a difficult time to watch him hardly be able to communicate. Today Daisy and I both sat on the bed watching him in pain crying into each other, I am so lucky I have her, she just wraps me up and hugs me until i'm ok .
Because of the amount of drugs he is taking he is hallucinating alot, waking up and cleaning up dog poo, putting up shelves and hoovering, no wonder he is so tired all the time! Sometimes I have to admit It is funny, other times its extremely hard hearing him just about get his words out and saying ' why can no one help me.'
you feel very helpless. I think whats the hardest part for me is taking care of someone who for years has taken care of me. Every single thing goes through your head, people ask how am I, but I honestly dont know, you feel nothing but everything at the same time.
so far thats where were at, what works for dad is an injection but that means he can't really come home as it needs to be given by a district nurse which could take up to 2 hours at home.
He has good days, and bad days, like us all. I start crying over little things, like not saying I love you enough when I was you younger. But seeing him on a day where he isn't restless and just peacefully sleeping, or nodding to what were talking about and maybe adding in the occasional "beastly girls" to me and Daisy is something we are grateful for. We will continue to be by his side, having a laugh, feeding him ice-cream and smashing Cancer.
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