"After what, Dad?"
"After I leave here."
"Well, you come home and Mom, Steven and I will take care of you."
"You'll feed me?"
"Yes, of course."
"Will I get any more treatment?"
"No, Dad, no more treatment. You were getting new metastasis in the spine while you were getting this chemo, so it's not working. We're out of options."
"So, what, I have days left?"
"No, Dad, look at you, you're talking, you're eating, you've probably got a month or two. We don't know. The doctors don't know."
We both cried after that. What he doesn't realize it that I've had this conversation with him several times. He can't remember each day. I'm stuck in preverbal 'Groundhog Day' moment with him every day. The same conversation, the same room, the same outcome. I don't believe in sparing feelings in a situation as dire as this. I wouldn't want someone to lie to me and tell me I'm going to get better. I wouldn't want anyone treating me like I'm a child and can't handle the reality. I'm honest with my Dad because he deserves it. He has the right to know that he's dying.
Thank you to Christine Schipfer and Sandy Edmunds for coordinating meals, it eases a lot of stress for us. I appreciate all the phone calls and e-mails of prayer and encouragement. I know that sometimes in these situations it's hard to know what to say or do, but I really do enjoy hearing from people, it can be very isolating.
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