My father is battling cancer

[hqp921]

I struggled with what title to use, and decided to keep it straightforward.

You may have noticed I've been absent on the boards, and now you know the reason why.

I've started a blog (today) on my website to keep things updated, for my family, for myself, and anyone interested. Mostly it's so I can get things out in writing. It's here: http://hung-pham.com/updates.htm

I realize not everyone can get to my website, so I'll cut and past the entries in a bit, except for today's since it's a work in progress.

At the end of May, my father was admitted to the hospital. A week later, I found out he is battling stage 4 cancer. Symptoms showed up a week or so before he was admitted initially, but they were not symptoms out of the ordinary, for say, a fever or other illness. It has gained a foot hold and spread quickly. In 3 days, I have spoken to people about hospice, and to an attorney. This is some serious stuff that I don't think I was really prepared to take on at this point. But you never are, are you?

Just last year, he had his stroke, and I thought that was a tough time. I just keep getting tested and tested it seems.

Hitting "submit" now and will be cutting and pasting my blog entries...

HP

[hqp921]

Today, I found out my father was battling stage IV cancer that was affecting his kidney and liver. I was at work, so I wrapped things up quickly, told the pertinent people and headed straight for the hospital. He had been admitted to the hospital a week earlier and only started showing symptoms of something being wrong a week or so before that. How quickly things can change within the blink of an eye.

No idea what the road ahead, however long or short it was, would be like. But I knew it would be pretty tough.

There was a lot of information to take in. On top of dire news, it was suggested that I start settling finances and things of that nature. I don't think anyone is ever prepared to do that, but I was not prepared to do that. But I had to. It is within me to do the right thing, no matter how difficult it may be. I must continue forward. It is what is instilled in me. It is what I do.

My father seemed to be okay, and both he and my mother seemed to understand the severity of the situation. He wasn't in physical pain. But he didn't understand. How can such an illness be so up and down? (He was having periods of extremely high fever/heart rate, and then it would stop and go back to normal).

I stayed as long as I could. My mother stayed the night. Tomorrow was another day.

[hqp921]

Another day at the hospital for me. Even in just two short days, it seems I've lost track of time. I can only imagine what it's like to lie in a hospital bed for a week or more, losing touch with reality and time?

My mother and I spoke to someone about hospice. Not the kind of meeting anyone likes to hold. I'd certainly like to get him home under better conditions, but I knew we had to do this. I know it would mean the world to him to be at home. He, like many others, hates hospitals. Who can blame him? I had to check and double check that they understood what this meant. If he was coming home, it wasn't because he was "better"...

Later that day, Jess came in, I think. (Things begin to get fuzzy for me as at this point, I'm still writing from memory...). My father looked at us and asked, "What day is it?"

"Tuesday," I respond. "Shouldn't you be at work?" That's his nature. Do what you should, and not to let things get in your way. I didn't go to work, but I did get a phone call from work (Thank you, for you know who you are), and I did end up teaching two lessons in the evening.

I remember at some point, it must have been between Monday and today, that he laid out his wishes for the family. He was philosophical at points, saying everyone lives, and everyone dies. It is what you do in between that matters most.

He said everyone suffers. And you suffer the moment you are born unto this earth -- this is why the first thing babies do, is cry, and not laugh.

At times it seemed as though he was "at one" with the idea of death. His primary concerns were that my mother, then my sister and I, were taken care of. That there was no burden to bear from his passing. Financially, emotionally, or other.

We're all struggling through this, and it goes in waves of "okay-ness" to "not okay-ness." I guess that is only natural.

That night we witnessed him going into a fever... his body started shaking, his heartbeat and temperature rose, and he was having trouble breathing. It was scary. He was put on a nebuelizer and was still having trouble breathing for a while. Eventually it DID clear things up, and he was able to sleep. But it was really hairy there for a couple hours.

[hqp921]

I woke up with low motivation today. I struggled to get up and going. I wasn't sure what I'd face if I went to the hospital, so I guess I decided to delay. Last night watching my father struggle was extremely difficult.

I got a phone call. From the hospital. I know from brief experience, that phone calls from hospitals aren't usually good.

This one was.

Although not sure, they thought that there was a possibility that part of the cancer he was fighting was lymphoma. Which, if it was, the treatment was to put him on steroids. There are risks involved, but they felt as though they should try and the risk was worth it. If they are correct and the body responds well, steroid treatment might mean his body will get well enough to fight off some infections, and he might get healthy enough to possibly endure chemotherapy.

A first glimmer of hope.

The doctor tells me this means my father must stay at the hospital longer. They want to do a blood transfusion while giving him a steroid - I forget the name right now, begins with a "P." He wanted to let me know this because we had plans to take him home (for hospice). The Dr. said he would not authorize hospice until he exhausted all options.

I am relieved, but confused. How was this not a possibility a couple days ago? Again, things change in a blink of an eye, I guess. If my father gets better, they will do another biopsy. The first biopsy took very little tissue. They want more tissue to look at. I think that's a good thing.

Today, as in previous days, I saw my father cry. The only time I have ever seen or remember him doing that is when his own parents passed away (half the world away). As I sit on the precipice of that being a very "real" possibility, I understand.

He spoke of great men. Of men he admired. Of men who did something great with their own lives. I guess in ways, he felt he hadn't achieved greatness yet, and for those reasons he was crying. I listened. I understood. And I understood why and what he meant when he said that me working, going to school, playing music makes him happy and proud.

He spoke of Ghandi. He asked when I was getting married. He felt like he didn't accomplish greatness in his life, and there were things he might not see. And I found the segue I needed. I asked my mother if the Dr. has spoken to them. She said a little bit, so I told the glimmer of good news.

I told him to fight this, to be with us long enough to see me get married. To see his grandchildren (my sister is due in a couple weeks...). To continue achieving accomplishments. I reminded him he HAD accomplished a lot. He fought in a war, he got married, raised two kids, owned a store, taught many people Vovinam (Vietnamese martial arts). These were things important to him. I had to remind him, he did achieve greatness.

I said one of his idols was Ghandi. I asked if Ghandi was strong (physically), as my dad has been lamenting the fact his body is weak. I asked if Ghandi had big muscles. He did not. On a philosophical level, I said, everyone gets weak, even if they are healthy. It is the natural progression of life. That you are born weak, and you grow strong and you learn... eventually, the body will become weak, but the mind and spirit is still strong. I told him he still had his mind and spirit. I asked, "Where you afraid when you were in the Navy fighting a war?" He said, "Of course, but they have weapons and we had weapons, so we had to fight them." "Well, now you have weapons too, but of a different sort. And I need you to fight. And get better, little by little, so you can stay with us long enough to see all those great things and do more great things."

For the first time, I saw a real glimmer of hope in his eyes. He said he would try and fight. He would. He knew the importance. He was in good spirits again.

In contrast to how we saw him last night, today he was awake, alert, breathing fine, and seemed to be in good spirits. The good news and 'pep talk' (I guess I can call it that), did some real good.

He told me to go, go and do what I needed to do (i.e. live my life). I guess he doesn't want to hold me back. He doesn't want me to have any regrets.

I won't.

[Overcaffeinated]

{{{{{{Hohm}}}}}}

I'm so sorry. He gave you really good advice there. You and your family will be in my thoughts.

[weaver]

I don't know what to say to all that. You did a better job with finding the right thing to say to your father than I think I could in the same situation.

[asp125]

Sounds like he's given you some good insight, wise man. You know what to do. If any of us here can help, just ask, ok?

[Bugguts]

{{{{Hung}}}}}} I'm so sorry to hear this. Your father has an extremely wise son. He has accomplished greatness. You're the proof.

[ncgal_in_mo]

He has accomplished greatness. You're the proof.

This. Take care of yourself and your family in every way you can. We'll be here if you need us.

[MsPotatoPotatoHead]

{{{{Hung}}}}}} I'm so sorry to hear this. Your father has an extremely wise son. He has accomplished greatness. You're the proof.

+1

So sorry to hear this, Hung. I will be sending your father the best "fight to get well" wishes you could possibly imagine.