Long time, no post

I don't know if anyone is still checking for posts, since I haven't posted in quite awhile, but here you go.

The last few weeks have been very, very tough, on Mom especially. I think all the classic cliches about being numb at first and then everything hitting you at once really apply here. It all started around Mom and Dad's anniversary, March 11. She had a really hard time with that one. But so far, we are muddling through, one day at a time. I find that work is the best time of day for me personally--that I am able to deal in a very detached way while working. It is when I am alone--in the car, cooking dinner, or going to sleep--that things start to puddle in my mind. In fact, going to sleep has become a difficult time for me for the first time in my life. (Funny, since Daddy was always a problem sleeper--apparently he decided to bequeath that to me).

Mark and I did get down to Slidell to visit with Aunt Sandy and Uncle Wyatt, along with Grandma and all the other family, for spring break. It was the most wonderful trip I have had in a long, long time. It did my heart good just to spend time with family. I have never in my life gone to Slidell and not had a fantastic time, but this was just great. We had a super family gathering for Lee's birthday on Saturday night, and all the family was there. Danny, Uncle Fred, Lee, Jeffrey, Tommy, Susan, Dennis, Melissa, Aunt June, Uncle Courtney, Grandma, and of course Aunt Sandy and Uncle Wyatt were all part of the celebration.

Mark and I went without our kiddos, so we took advantage of the opportunity to have some grown-up time, including going into the Quarter for an afternoon. We were glad to see them when we got back, though!

Please continue to pray for Mom! Laura and I (and the rest of our siblings) live in our own houses and have spouses and kids and jobs to keep us occupied, but Mom is there in an empty house that is full of 28 years of memories, and while she is keeping very busy and really doing fabulously, I truly can't imagine what that must be like.

Hospice Donation Info

Several people have asked me about making memorial donations for Dad. Mom has asked that all contributions be made to Hospice. I truly, truly cannot say enough kind words about the people with Hospice. They were amazing. Every single person we dealt with was wonderful, but Freda, Dad's main nurse, was just an outstanding human being. I honestly don't know how they do the job they do each and every day--surrounded by dying patients and grieving families--but they do, and they make you feel like you are absolutely the most important person they have encountered all day.

The address is as follows, for those who wish to make donations:

Family Home Care and Hospice
175 24th Street NW
Cleveland, TN 37311

I thank each of you who has asked about this. What a loving way to remember Dad!

Mom

I was asked to post an update on how Mom is doing, and I thought that might be a good idea. She is doing as best as can be expected under the circumstances, I think. The last couple of days have been the roughest. The people from Hospice told her that it would really start to hit two or three weeks after the fact, and it has been (believe it or not) almost two weeks.

I think we are all feeling it right about now. I am having a tough time, Danny is having a tough time, and Mom is, too. I don't mean that we're sitting around sobbing all day, but it's definitely a process. Today was my first day back at work, and it was brutal.

Mom did take Laura and me and our families to dinner last night, and that was really nice. She seemed okay through all of that. I really don't know what else to say. I think we're all just trying to take it one day at a time right now. I haven't talked to Laura about it in the last day or two, so I can't really speak as to how she is doing, but I'm sure she's much the same as the rest of us. It just takes time.

Please continue to remember us in your prayers--especially Mom.

Everyone is gone.

Everyone is gone.

The last out-of-towners, my brother and one of my sisters, left this morning. So now we begin the business of settling down and getting back to "normal," whatever that is.

I have been vacillating wildly between being "okay" and being consumed with crushing grief. My husband told me that the process will probably be similar to when his parents' house burned down ten years ago; for months--maybe even years--you think of things you lost in the fire. And I think he is right. It seems as though dozens of times a day I think of new things that I have lost with Dad. His biscuits and gravy; the fish tails he made especially for me; driving up to my parents' house and seeing him out by his boat, smoking; watching him crank his boat back up on the trailer; seeing him open up his cooler to show me his latest catch; hearing him answer the phone with his sarcastic, drawling, "Whaaaaaaaat?" and so on... I wonder how long it will go on. Will I ever stop thinking of the losses?

Dan is in a new phase where he likes to pretend he is someone else (I went out to my in-laws the other night to pick him up, and he had decided that he was Graddy and that Graddy was Dan), and last night, he christened me Papa. Then today he decided that my mom was Papa. But other than that, he has not said a single word about Papa. It makes me wonder what he does and does not understand. On the one hand, I don't want to keep bringing it up and risk freaking Dan out; on the other hand, I don't want to take the chance of letting Daddy fade away in Dan's mind. It's a fine line to walk.

I head back to work on Tuesday, and I have no idea what I will find when I get there. I fully intended every single day this week to go in and put together work for my kids, and I just never could do it. I was too afraid I'd fall apart. My co-workers, bless their hearts, have been incredible. But my poor kids will have to work double-time when I get back to make up for the lost time. Maybe it will keep my mind off of things.

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. Please pray for my mom as she faces her first Valentine's Day without her mate.

Funeral, Burial, and Slideshow

The funeral was beautiful. Laura's best friend sang, which was so moving, and the message was wonderful. I think Daddy would have liked it.

I couldn't believe how many people came to the graveside service. I was in the limo with Mom, Grandma, and my four siblings, and every time I looked behind us, I couldn't even see the end of the procession. The drive from the church to the gravesite is a few miles, and it once again made me proud to be a Southerner, with our manners and traditions. 95% of people still pull over for funeral processions, and we passed a group of utility workers who all removed their hard hats out of respect. It was lovely.

There must have been 70 people at the graveside, and the day was just beautiful, although a bit on the windy side. For February, though, the temperature was very mild.

After the graveside service, most of us went to change clothes, and then we all met back at Laura's church for the traditional post-funeral meal (you know how it is in the South: people die; we cook.). It was a really nice time of fellowship for our family and close friends.

It was at Laura's church that I found out my Uncle Wayne had been sick all night the previous evening. I had no idea at the funeral, but I wasn't exactly focused on anything but Daddy. He apparently came down with some sort of tummy bug, and then...they started dropping like flies. Talk about adding insult to injury! A good number of the out-of-towners came down with it, and I can't imagine anything worse than having to travel like that! How awful! Uncle Wayne and his crew left yesterday morning, with a 16-hour drive back to Texas ahead of them, and I can only hope that all of the rest of them made it without getting ill.

Many of you have asked about the tribute slideshow that Mark made for Daddy's services. We will still make DVDs for anyone who wants them (and he still intends to add quite a bit to it--other photos, as well as some video taken over the years), but the version from the visitation and funeral is available here, for those who would like to view it online.

Visitation and Tribute Video

Wow.

I am absolutely in awe of how many people came to Daddy's visitation this evening. A close family friend did a rough count of the number of people who signed the guest book and came up with over 500.

Wow.

Dad would be absolutely tickled pink if he knew that many people came out to pay their respects. It is truly a testament to his life and the kind of person he was. So many of his Watts Bar co-workers came out, and one of them said the greatest thing: "Doug could get more done on accident than most people do on purpose." I loved it.

I was utterly and completely exhausted by the end of the evening, but I was just so overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support that was displayed tonight. Thank you to each and every one of you who took time out of your evening to pay your respects to my father.

A special thank you to my precious husband, who absolutely HATES doing slideshows, but who put together an absolutely phenomenal slideshow tribute to my father. Many, many people have asked for a copy, and of course we WILL make copies for those who want them, but in the meantime, Mark is going to upload the tribute video to our family website. He has not done so yet, but when he does (possibly as early as later tonight), I will post an update here, on the blog, with a link to the video. Be warned: if you are not a fan of fish, this video is not for you!

PS--If you have been keeping up with this blog, will you please send me an email at holly@kesley.com with your name? I have been completely astonished at the number of people who have told me they have kept up with Dad through this blog, and I would like to have a number (and a list of names) to share with Mom, so she can see how many people cared through this entire process. I would appreciate it if you wouldn't mind dropping me a note. Thanks.

Arrangements and Directions

Funeral arrangements for Daddy are as follows:

Visitation will be Monday, February 9 from 2-4 pm and 6-9 pm at Grissom Funeral Home. The funeral will be Tuesday, February 10 at 11 am at First Baptist Church.

Directions to funeral home:

From I-75, take exit 25. At the bottom of the exit ramp, go east (left if you are coming from Chattanooga, right if you are coming from Knoxville). Go to the fifth traffic light (this is Ocoee Street) and turn left. The funeral home will be about a quarter mile on your right.

Directions to First Baptist Church:

From I-75, take exit 25. At the bottom of the exit ramp, go east. Go to the fifth traffic light (Ocoee Street). Turn right. You will stay on Ocoee Street past a middle school and Lee University. Just past Lee University, the road splits (there is a Civil War monument right in the middle of the split and the public library will be on your left, so look for those landmarks). You will turn left on Central Avenue (less than a quarter mile past the split). You will go two blocks and see First Baptist Church on your left.

Please email me at holly@kesley.com if you have any questions. I'm sorry not to write more, but it has been a very long day. I will try to write more about the evening of Daddy's passing in the next few days. Tomorrow morning is my grandmother's visitation and funeral, so tomorrow will be a long one, as well. I am tempted to comment on how horrible it is that all of this happened together, and that I can't imagine that things could be much worse, but it would be a lie. Things could ALWAYS be worse, and I am still thankful for the many blessings I have.

Peace at Last

Dear loved ones,

My dear, precious, flawed father passed away at about 9:45 this evening.

His passing was so peaceful, and for that I am thankful. All afternoon, he sounded horrible, rattling and gurgling as he struggled for breath. But later this evening, maybe around 8:00, the gurgling and rattling stopped. A little after that, he tried to open his eyes just a bit. We immediately crowded around him and began talking to him, telling him how much we love him and that it was okay to give up the fight. I do not know if he heard us, but it was so comforting to see some tiny bit of consciousness.

A little after 9:30, we began to notice that his breaths were slowing and becoming more shallow. They became more and more infrequent until finally there were no more.

Daddy was surrounded by people who loved him dearly, and what better way to go? In addition to Mom, Laura, Eric, and me, there were Darrell and Teresa, Joyce Moser, Aunt Carolyn, Uncle H.L., and Bill Griffith. Tim and Doris got there almost immediately (within a minute) after he died, and bless his heart, Eric Widner showed up about twenty minutes later. He tried desperately to make it, and just couldn't get there in time.

There is so much more to write, and Iwill try to do so tomorrow, but for now, I am beyond exhausted. All of the emotional numbness of the past few weeks fell away this afternoon, and I have not stopped crying. It will be a miracle if I am able to open my eyes in the morning.

I am thankful that God took Daddy home and spared him further indignity and suffering. I would give anything to have seen his face as he saw the face of God for the first time. I am thankful for our amazing friends and family.

Right now, very tentative plans are to have visitation from 2-4 and from 6-9 on Monday, with the funeral on Tuesday. I will post the definite arrangements tomorrow when they are finalized.

Thank you for your love, for your thoughts, for your kind deeds, and for your prayers.

Much love to you,

Holly

The fiery furnace

As many of you know (and some do not), I am a high school teacher. I teach in my school's "freshman academy," which is a fairly new concept in which we sort of sequester the freshmen from the rest of the student population so as to ease their transition into high school. We work in teams and have our own administrator in our building. This administrator, Mrs. Martha Frazier, is truly a blessing to work with. She is caring and understanding, and incredibly supportive. She is also a woman of God and has prayed mightily for our family through this entire process. Day before yesterday, we were talking about Dad's rapidly deteriorating condition, and I told her of my complete confidence that our God is absolutely capable of healing my father. There has never been a doubt in my mind that if it is His will, He can do so. The complication for many pepole comes in accepting that healing may not be His will. I can, however, accept it. This doesn't mean that I have loads more faith than anyone else; it's just something that I can easily accept. I don't know why.

At any rate, after I said this, she reminded me of the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the book of Daniel. I think most children who have grown up in church know this story, if for no other reason than the fact that there is a cute little song about it (and to this day, you can't mention those three names without the song getting stuck in my head!). But for those of you who are not familiar, I will summarize it for you. In Daniel 3, King Nebuchadnezzar creates a golden idol and commands all of his people to bow to it, lest they be thrown into a fiery furnace. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego refuse. When the King hears of this, he brings them in and asks them if what he has heard is true.

v. 16 Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego replied to him, "King Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter. 17 If the God we serve is able to deliver us, then he will deliver us from the blazing furnace and from Your Majesty's hand. 18 But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up."

Here, then, is the lesson: these three men know that their God is able to deliver them. But, friends, they also realize that he may choose not to do so. And yet, their faith is whole and complete.

For those of you who are wondering how the story ends, the King is enraged and orders the furnace made seven times hotter and the men tied up and thrown in. The furnace is, in fact, so hot that the guards who throw Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego into the furnace are killed instantly. But to King Nebuchadnezzar's immense surprise, when he looks into the furnace, he sees the three men walking around, accompanied by a fourth figure. He orders them to come out of the furnace, which they do, and when they emerge, they are not burned, nor do they even smell of smoke. Nebuchadnezzar, needless to say, is then convinced of their God's superiority.

I say all of that to say this: the end, as it appears, is very near for my father. He has had nothing to eat or drink in days, and that in and of itself will do him in if it continues. But I do know that my God is capable of healing him, instantly, if He so desires. But I know that may not be His will and I accept it. Do I like it? No. Does my heart break? Yes. But to think that I, as a mere human, could ever second-guess God's will would be hubristic in the extreme.

So for those of you out there who are having difficulty grappling with this (and we all are), please be thankful for the time we have had with Daddy and be thankful that we serve a God who is willing and able to heal, but who sometimes has other plans that we can't quite understand yet. I trust that one day we will.

Wednesday evening

We believe time is growing very short.

Dad is essentially sleeping 24 hours a day, waking for only seconds at a time, and in addition, he has begun making some horrible noises as he tries to cough something up--I don't know if it is just phlegm, or if his lungs have begun to fill with fluid, but it sounds terrible as he tries to dislodge whatever it is.

I know I don't have to say this, but it is truly, truly breathtakingly wrenching to see one's father in this condition, and so I think I speak for all of the immediate family when I say that if God is not going to heal him (and honestly, I can't possibly see how that is His plan, at this point), that we pray for the Lord to take our daddy as quickly as possible. I am so thankful that he seems to be very unaware, for the indignity of his situation strikes me anew every time I walk into Mom and Dad's house.

For now, although I am not a doctor, I will be bold enough to posit that we are looking at days. If you want my frank opinion, I'll be surprised if he makes it through the weekend, but please remember that we said that about my grandmother for three weeks. Truly, I have no idea what I'm talking about--it's just my humble opinion based on what I am seeing.

One last note--I have been so blessed by the emails I have gotten from so many of Dad's friends and family who read this blog. I honestly had no idea that there were so many. Thank you for your support, thoughts, prayers, and kind words. We are broken-hearted, but so blessed by those around us at this time.

Tuesday update

Hello, friends and family.

Today has been a long day. Let me give everyone out there a little piece of advice: PRE-ARRANGE YOUR FUNERALS! My dear grandmother was kind enough to do this for us last year, and we were STILL at the funeral home for close to two hours this morning--not to mention going to the cemetery to sign THOSE papers. Can you imagine how long it all would have taken had she not done us the favor of pre-arranging? Oy.

It was nice, getting to spend time with Mom, though. After we left the funeral home, we drove over the cemetery (which is just stupendously beautiful, with mountain views like you wouldn't believe!) and took care of that, then she and I went to lunch, and then I went to shop for something to bury Mom-o in, which I stressed endlessly over because I was doing it all alone and with no one else to approve. It took me ten times longer than I thought it would. I ended up snapping a very fuzzy picture with my phone, sending it to Mom, and asking for her approval. She said she liked it, based on what she could see, and that made me feel a bit better. Then I had to run it BACK over to the funeral home and pray no one would be unhappy with my choice. Then back to Cleveland to pick up my kiddos, who my precious mother-in-law graciously looked after all day long (they didn't have school today).

In the midst of all this, Aunt Carolyn and Uncle H.L. were looking after Dad, who had fallen asleep sometime after 8 last night, and had still not woken up when Mom left. Dad slept, and slept, and slept, and slept, and slept, until my mother (who was still in Chattanooga) began to actually worry that he had fallen into a coma. All told, he slept for about 18 hours, woke up when the Hospice nurse came to bathe him, and immediately fell back asleep. According to the Hospice nurse, this is just part of "the process."

I think we are all reaching a point of emotional exhaustion and numbness. I haven't cried in days and days--not even when I got the news about Mom-o. In fact, the only time I even shed a tear or two is when Mom broke down at the nursing home when we went to see her. I think, given the awful condition she has been in, it is more of a relief than anything. We know that she can finally see again, she can hear perfectly again, she can walk without assistance, and more than anything, she is back with her beloved husband!

Funeral arrangements are as follows: Visitation will be held at Heritage Funeral Home on East Brainerd Rd. in Chattanooga on Saturday from 10 am until noon, followed immediately by the funeral service. We will then have burial at Greenwood Cemetery.

Please keep praying for strength for Mom, for peace and comfort for Dad, and for blessings for all of his caretakers. Thank you for all the prayers for my grandmother. I'm glad her suffering did not drag on any longer than it did.

My apologies...

To those who rely on this blog for updates (I really had no idea how many of you there are!), I apologize that I have not updated in the past five days. I have really been in a funk these last few days and have just not had the mental energy to do so.

First of all, my dear, sweet grandmother passed away today. Thankfully, I was at Mom and Dad's house when the call came, and since Mom was busy with Dad, I took the call. I then broke the news to Mom, which I am sure I did badly, since I've never had to break that kind of news to anyone before. But Mom handled it with grace and she and Laura and I went to the nursing home to be with her and say goodbye before the gentleman from the funeral home got there.

While we were gone, Tim, Joyce Masoner, and the precious hospice nurse, Freda, were with Dad. According to Freda, Dad is "moving through the stages." I'm not sure exactly how quickly he is doing so, but she gives me the feeling that she thinks he might be moving at a quick pace. I really don't know. Things are much the same, though--Dad has some lucid moments, and some that are not so lucid. He is very difficult to understand, and incredibly weak.

Another note: many friends and family have expressed to me that they are grappling with whether or not to call to check up on Mom and Dad. They don't want to be a nuisance; neither do they want to seem unconcerned. Thank you for asking about this! Let me throw this out there--Mom is SO incredibly appreciative of how much everyone cares, but yes, the phone IS ringing off the hook! And of course it is emotionally draining for her to have to recount Dad's condition over and over again. So if you are a regular caregiver or someone who has been in and out, by all means, call. If you are just wanting to check in and see what's needed, please, call Laura or me. Laura can be reached at 423-559-1944 or 423-718-8990. I can be reached at 423-479-4839 or 423-650-5443. We will let you know if anything is needed and we will relay any messages on to Mom. You can also email me at holly@kesley.com. I only check my email about ten million times a day, so it will take me at most, oh, 30 seconds to get back to you. I REALLY hope that this doesn't sound harsh, but I'm just trying to keep Mom's stress levels as low as possible and the phone really does ring nonstop, which is hard when someone is trying to sleep.

I will post more about funeral arrangements for Mom-o tomorrow, when they are complete. We are looking at Saturday for the funeral, but we are still undecided on a visitation time. I can tell you that the visitation and funeral will take place at Heritage Funeral Home on East Brainerd Rd. in Chattanooga. More to come.

Who is my father?

At 1206 Cookdale Trail, there is a man in a hospital bed. This man is bald, with an overgrown mustache that needs trimming. His face is gaunt, his cheeks sunken in. His arms are little more than bone and sinew with loose skin covering them. His belly is swollen, distended from the fluids building up in his abdomen. His strength has waned as the insidious disease called cancer has ravaged his body and he is now essentially confined to his bed, a catheter sapping his remaining dignity, little by little.

This man is not my father.

My father is Doug Williams. He is a deeply imperfect man, but I would like to share with you more about him, imperfections and all.

My father is an avid sportsman. He enjoys hunting, but his greatest passion is fishing. The man lives to fish--river, lake, ocean--you name it. He loves all of his brothers, but his brother Wyatt is the closest to him. One of his greatest enjoyments in life is his trips to Louisiana to go deep-sea fishing with Uncle Wyatt on his boat--first the Great Escape, then the Great Escape II. When I am faced with the sight of my father in his weakened state, barely able to lift his cup of water to his lips, it gives me comfort to remember my strong father on Uncle Wyatt's boat, fighting to bring in fish that weigh hundreds of pounds.

My father is strong.

My father taught me gun safety, and then he taught me to shoot. He took immense pride when he discovered that I could shoot very well, glowing as he called me "Holly Oakley" and bragging to others that I was a great shot.

My father is a hard worker. When I was two years old, my parents moved from Chattanooga to Cleveland because my father had been transferred from Sequoyah Nuclear Power Plant to Watts Bar. From the time I was two until he retired in 2002, my father made the two-hour round trip from Cleveland to Watts Bar every single day. He usually didn't make it to my after-school activities--cheerleading, recitals, pageants, choir concerts--because he was exhausted from the drive and the long workday. Outages were even worse--twelve-hour workdays, seven days a week, on top of the drive. But he did it. For us. When I needed braces, I got them. When I wanted to join my school's Model UN team and go to Chicago, then Washington, then back to Chicago, checks magically appeared in my hand. When I needed a new cheerleading uniform, I got it. When I turned sixteen, I got a car--not a new one, and not even a somewhat new one, but it was mine and I loved it. All those silly pageants--the clothes and dresses and the voice lessons--my daddy. When I gave up my college scholarship to come home because I missed my family and East Tennessee, Dad paid my tuition. When I had been married four years and needed a root canal and couldn't pay for it because I had medical insurance but not dental, he took care of it.

My dad is an amazing cook. He's not a "follow the recipe" kind of cook--he's a "dig around in the fridge, pull a bunch of crap out, throw it in the pot and come up with a masterpiece" kind of cook. Knowing that I have eaten his homemade biscuits and gravy for the last time is enough to bring me to tears. Christmas morning will never be the same without his huge breakfast feast after opening presents. Gumbo, fish, jambalaya, shrimp, hush puppies, homemade chicken noodle soup--these are some of his specialties. I wonder who will make me fish tails now. Dad always complained that it was such a pain to cut off the tails and fry them up, but he knew I loved them, so he did it--just for me. The last time he made me fish tails was this year in Destin. They were delicious, as always.

Many people don't know this, but my father has a wonderful singing voice. Listening to him sing Hank Williams' "Jambalaya" was always a pleasure. He loves old country music and listening to him belt out classics is wonderful.

My father can be an impatient and short-tempered man, and it has amused all five of us children to see how he has mellowed with age. Transgressions by the grandchildren that would have gotten us a whipping with the belt are met with a smile and a laugh by Papa. Yes, he was often too hard on us and he made many mistakes, but what parent hasn't? I've only been a mom for a little over three years and I've already made roughly 3.7 million mistakes in my tenure. Dad was not and is not a perfect parent--not by a mile--but he loves us deeply and that's what counts.

My dad is set in his ways. He has his own way of doing things and will not be swayed. For him, TV is the ultimate lazy pasttime, and old Westerns are a staple. There is nothing better, in his eyes, than a buffet-style restaurant, and he loves to eat at Ryan's. He has a "uniform," a certain way of eating (he eats late and never drinks anything with his meal), and a morning routine. He rarely sees fit to try new foods or drinks. He likes what he likes and that is that. He seems a bit naked without a ball cap on his head, and he has a massive collection of them (most of them having something to do with TVA). He knows our section of the Tennessee River like the back of his hand, and he relishes in the search for "Ol' Tobe," the biggest catfish in the river. People have even paid him, on occasion, to serve as a fishing guide and to teach them some of his tricks. He has had a mustache his entire adult life and looks awful without one (we know this because he messed up trimming it once and ended up having to shave it off. My sister freaked and wouldn't believe it was her daddy. We were so glad when it grew back--especially my mother, who said he had no upper lip and never wanted to kiss him like that again). He is the owner of the "Williams eyes," passed down to four of his five children. He is tall, and skinny, and has always had to wear a belt because he doesn't have enough of a butt to hold his pants up.

My dad hates cats with a passion and never wanted one, but he acquiesced to our wishes and then cried when he accidentally ran over my kitten.

My father was born near the end of World War II, while his father was still away fighting in the South Pacific, he was named for General MacArthur, and he was nearly a year old before my grandfather ever laid eyes on him.

My father is smart, funny, sarcastic, kind, and generous.

I write all of these things because I want you to know him, and I want my children to know him. But in the end, in order to know my daddy...you have to know my daddy.

I hate that my children will never truly know who their Papa is. It will be up to us to keep him alive for them. On the one hand, I am devastated that I have had only 29 years with him. But on the other hand...I had 29 years with him! How lucky am I, compared to those who never know their fathers?

Daddy, I love you, and I'm glad you were mine.

Tuesday update (as you can tell, my Snappy Title Generator is broken)

Today was better in some ways, worse in others. It was better in that Dad rested very well and wasn't quite so insistent on getting out of bed. It was better in that Mom actually managed to get a little bit of sleep because our dear, precious friend Teresa was there to pick up the slack and help where Dad was concerned. But it was worse in that Dad slept more and we realize that this is probably going to be the case from here on out. Things just went from bad to stupendously bad faster than we could ever imagine. I haven't written him my letter yet, and now I don't know if I should even bother, since I'm not sure he will be aware enough to comprehend it. We haven't gotten him to tell us who he wants his various guns to go to, and we know that is something about which he had very specific plans. We don't know if he will be lucid enough at any point to tell us. It's not that he is still out of his mind or hallucinating or anything like that. It's just that he is so weak that when he is awake, it's difficult to get him to talk in a way that we can understand.

On the one hand, all of this is utterly heartbreaking. But on the other hand, it is encouraging to know that if it has gone so quickly thus far, perhaps it will go quickly the rest of the way, and our precious daddy will not have to linger long in this condition. I only wish that I could be there to see his face when he sees Jesus for the first time. What an incredible blessing. And how lucky we are that he is saved. This would all be so much different were that not the case.

Your prayers are still coveted. We hunger for them. I ask for you to lift up not only my father (and his continued comfort--blessedly, he is still in no pain that we are aware of), but his caregivers--my mother, my sister Laura, our dear friend Teresa, and Dad's precious best friend (and neighbor) Tim, who has been called on so many times (often in the middle of the night) to help get Dad up when he has fallen, or to watch over him when the rest of us are gone.

Thanks for reading, and thanks for praying.

Monday evening update

Today has been a very long day. As I noted in my earlier post, Mark spoke to Gina, one of the pharmacists, and she called Hospice to make arrangements for some prescriptions. They did get those delivered, but in the process, Gina discovered that there was not a Hospice nurse scheduled to visit Daddy today, as we had thought. Gina informed them that they needed to arrange for that to happen. So the Hospice nurse did show up this morning, and she was absolutely wonderful, according to Mom, and stayed for hours. The decision was made to catheterize Daddy, since he is unable to remain stable on his feet.

Dad, however, seems unable to comprehend that he has been catheterized, no matter how many times you tell him. Therefore, he is still trying to get up out of bed to use the bathroom, and there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop him, so you just have to help him go.

Thankfully, my precious husband came to the rescue today. He had told me last night that he would go today to watch Dad so Mom could rest. He arrived at my parents' house around noon today and stayed until nearly 5:00 this afternoon. Mark hauled Dad in and out of that bed all afternoon long, back and forth to the bathroom, making sure Dad didn't fall. I am so amazingly blessed to be married to such an incredible man. What he did today for my father is the best thing he has ever done for me in our almost nine years of marriage. He gave Dad medicine, tried to explain about the catheter, and provided a shoulder for my mom to cry on. Through all of this, he wasn't even sure that my dad was really aware it was him. But after Mark finally left,
Dad asked for him, so obviously he knew.

My mother's best friend on this planet, Teresa Widner, came this afternoon to relieve her so she could sleep. Mom went to bed around 4:00 and last time I checked, has not woken up yet. I hope and pray she sleeps through the night.

The Hospice nurse said today that she does see some of "the signs" that the end is nearing. She stated that this next week is critical: if Daddy continues to go downhill over the next few days, then time is probably very, very short. If he levels out, so to speak, then we may have more time. At this point, I am a nervous wreck from worrying about Mom and watching Dad lose his dignity little by little. If you want the plain and honest truth, we are praying at this point for the end to come quickly for him, because this is no way for him to live, and we hate to see him suffer like this. Please pray that he can go to his eternal rest soon.

Monday morning update

Things are so bad, and yet I can still find so many things for which to be thankful in the midst of all this. Dad fell twice last night, and both times we had to call Tim from across the street to come help get him up. Tim and Sherry have been amazing, steadfast friends through this. You would honestly think that they were dealing with one of their own parents, the way they have stood by our side and done everything possible to help us. They have cried with us, prayed for us, cooked for us, taken care of things around the house, and done anything they can think of to make things easier for us. They have offered their spare bedroom to visiting family members from out of town, and given up a Saturday morning to rip carpet out of the basement. No one ever had better friends or neighbors. They are truly a blessing.

I have been married to my husband for almost nine years, and of course I have always known him to be an amazing man. He is more than I could ever deserve, and I've always known this. But through this, he has proven himself again and again to be the best husband and father that a woman could ask for. In addition to caring nonstop for our children whenever I need to be with my parents or my grandmother, he is using his position as a pharmacy IT director to help us. The pharmacists are practically at our beck and call, which is just such a blessing. Any time we have a question about a medication, it is immediately answered. Any time Hospice calls a medication for my father in, they move it to the front of line to be filled and delivered. One of the pharmacists has told Mark that if we need anything, day or night, to call.

My mother's best friend, Teresa, is going to come sit with Mom to relieve her and allow her to sleep some. This is a woman who gives and gives and gives and gives some more. My mom is so blessed to have her as a friend.

My beautiful, precious, generous mother-in-law has cooked, sat with my grandmother, and now she is going to send the lady that cleans her house over to my parents' house tomorrow to do some cleaning. How lucky am I to have such good, kind, generous people in my life?

So yes, things are bad. Dad is essentially unable to stand on his own anymore. He falls more and more and Mom has had to more or less confine him to his hospital bed, which has been its own battle because he is sick of just lying there in it. But over and over, I realize how good God is, that He has surrounded us with such wonderful people. To all of you who are reading this, whether you are near or far, please know that we couldn't do this without you. Your prayers, food, words of kindness, and general support mean the world to us. Please continue to lift my mom and dad up in your daily prayers.

Update: Sunday, January 25

This weekend has been the worst yet. Danny came up again (two weekends in a row--he's amazing) and brought Dad's brother, my uncle Fred, with him. It had been six days since Danny had seen Dad, and he said that this was the most marked change yet. He has gone downhill so severely, so quickly, that it's difficult to even describe it. He is barely able to get out of bed. I daresay, if things continue to progress at this rate, that he will be completely bedridden before long.

The biggest development is that Dad went on oxygen on Friday, and that came with its own set of complications. He feels as if he can't breathe (and I am betting that is because of the fluid buildup in his abdomen. It's the same thing that happens to us ladies during pregnancy, when it's difficult to get a good breath in the later stages, because the baby is pressing up against your lungs). As a result, the hospice nurses started him on morphine--not because he is in any pain (blessedly), but because it is supposed to help with the feeling of oxygen deprivation. End result: Dad gone loopy. He is very incoherent and doesn't know what is what. He is completely confused, can't keep things straight, doesn't have a good sense of time, and can't adequately explain what he is thinking. So no more morphine for him. And it really wasn't helping anyway. Now we just have to wait for it to get out of his system and make sure that it's really the morphine that is affecting his mental faculties. If, after a few days, he is still acting loopy, then we may have a different problem altogether.

He said to me yesterday, "I'm scared." Let me tell you, no matter how old you are, there are few things in this life worse than hearing your father tell you he is scared. So I asked him why, and he said that it was because he couldn't breathe and one of his greatest fears has always been suffocation. Yes, I lost it right then and there. It was a horrible thing. So in addition to the problems caused by the morphine, we still have the original issue of his "oxygen hunger," as they call it, and the anxiety that that is causing. We are giving him Ativan for the anxiety, but I'm not sure how much effect it is having.

Putting aside, for a moment, the mental issues, his physical condition isn't much better. He has deteriorated more quickly than I ever could have thought possible, and none of it makes sense to us. He has continually been told that his liver continues to function well, so if that is the case, then why have things gone downhill so quickly? Has the cancer spread? Is it just from weakness because he can't eat much? Is it the fluid buildup in his abdomen? We don't know, and that's one of the (only) bad things about Hospice--their sole mission is making the patient comfortable and supporting the family. Once you call them in, further testing is pretty much out the window.

Mom did finally break down tonight, and she sobbed for a good bit while I was there. I was very glad to be able to take over for a few minutes so that she could do what she needed to do. She is exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. She desperately needs some relief, because we are at the point where Dad cannot be left alone, and there's only so much I can do, with my kids and my job. Laura has been a Godsend, picking up the slack left and right, watching over my grandmother, coming to be with Dad, and so forth. But something is going to have to give at some point.

There is so much more to write, but I honestly do not have the mental energy needed at this point to do so. I'm sure you can get the gist of it. Things are bleak, and everyone is dragging right now. Please pray for renewed strength and energy for our family. Please pray for peace for my father, that he can find relief from the feeling that he can't breathe.

A few more pictures

Quick update: Dad has begun using an oxygen mask, as of today. I have not seen him since Tuesday, but based on what my brother told me tonight (he is in town and spent the evening with Mom and Dad), things are not good. We feel that time is growing ever shorter, but how short, only God knows.

Here are a few more pictures I dug up of Daddy when he was healthy.

This one was taken the first year we rented the Vera Cruz House in Destin. We got all five kids together with Daddy.

This is Dad throwing his mullet net from the back deck of the Vera Cruz House.

This is Dad holding his mullet net with some mullet in it (that thing is really heavy, by the way!)

Dad with me at my college graduation.

A few pictures of Daddy

I wanted to post some pictures of Dad when he was healthy and robust, so that those of you who may not know him can see what he looked like before cancer. I know there is a picture of him with Luke (my nephew) at the top of this page, and one of him with Dan at the bottom, but I wanted to add some to that.


This picture was taken Christmas Eve 2007. It shows Dad hugging Dan. His hair is so shiny and distinguished and he actually has some weight on him! Please ignore the chubby girl in the chair. :) She had just given birth a month earlier.

This photo was taken a mere six months ago, on July 28, 2008, outside my house. That's my mom (in green) and my mother-in-law (in pink, holding my daughter Kate) in the background.

This was taken the same day as the photo above. In it, Dad is holding Luke.

This one was taken October 16, in Destin, a scant month before Dad's diagnosis. While we knew something was wrong at this point, we didn't know what, and Dad still felt well enough to engage in his normal activities.

And this is Dad the first time he held Dan, October 9, 2005.

Hospice

Two ladies from Hospice came to the house today to get the ball rolling there. The first was a Hospice nurse, Freda (SUCH a wonderful lady). The second was a Hospice social worker who asked a million and one questions about Dad--everything from his job before retirement to whether he has anxiety.

While they were there, a gentleman showed up to deliver Dad's hospital bed. There is something a bit surreal about having a hospital bed set up for your father in the same room where he used to tickle you until you couldn't breathe back when he was young and healthy.

I had to leave to go pick up my kiddos from school then, and as I was on my way, Mark called me and told me a sweet story. It turns out that there are certain perks to having a husband who works in the pharmacy business (he is the I.T. director for a family-owned chain of pharmacies here in Cleveland). He told me that Gina, one of the pharmacists, had called him and made him cry. One of the hospice nurses had called in some prescriptions for Dad to Medical Center Pharmacy (where Mark works), and Gina had recognized Dad's name. She called Mark and told him that she was going to fill the 'scrips immediately and get them delivered ASAP, and if there was anything Dad needed--day or night--to call. Mark was really touched at her kindness (as am I!).

When I got my kids, Dan said he wanted to go to Papa and Gammie's, so we stopped by for a few minutes. Dan decided to test-drive Dad's new bed, so I took a picture of him (with my cell phone, so the quality is pretty bad).

You can see from the picture how swollen Dad's belly is, despite having it drained only a week or so ago. Hospice may be able to place a permanent drainage tube in it, though, to allow him to drain the fluids at home, a little at a time.

Thanks for reading and praying. I will post more when I have the energy.

Family visit

Having spent my entire childhood with my extended family (on Dad's side) spread out all over the South, I always get excited when the opportunity to visit with family presents itself.

My Grandma Williams, who was just here a couple of weekends ago, came back up with my Aunt June (Daddy's sister) and Uncle Courtney last night. Danny came up this weekend at the last minute, as well, on account of some pitiful begging on my part, and my dad's cousin Don, his wife, Wanda, and Don's father, my great-uncle Freddie, came from Nashville today.

Dad is not feeling well, as he did not sleep well at all last night, but it was good to see him get to visit with everyone today.

This is Uncle Courtney (left) and Uncle Freddie.

This is Grandma Williams.

Here is a shot of Wanda with my little Kate. Kate really enjoyed Wanda!

One of Daddy with Wanda (holding Kate) and Don. Wanda is reading a printout of the article that Richard Simms wrote about Dad for the Chattanoogan.

An Amazing Friend

Dad has a good friend, Richard Simms, who is also a former co-worker of Laura's at NewsChannel9. Laura came over late last night, computer printout in hand, to show us a beautiful, precious, sob-inducing article that Richard wrote for the Chattanoogan (www.chattanoogan.com). This article is about Dad, although he does not mention Daddy by name. Laura printed it out at their house so Dad could read it. I wish I had seen his reaction--I do know that when he finished, he said, "Why didn't he mention me by name?" Total Dad. When Laura told us this, Danny, Mark, and I nearly hit the floor in laughter.

Richard, if you are reading this, thank you for such an amazing, uplifting tribute to my daddy. I really do have a feeling that the TWRA is going to spend the next few summers trying helplessly to explain the sudden catfish explosion in the Tennessee River...

Here is a link to the article. Please go read it.

http://www.chattanoogan.com/articles/article_142697.asp

Decisions

Dad's oncologist, Dr. Johnson, called him this morning. He spoke to his friend at Vanderbilt and found that yes, there is a study at Vanderbilt that Dad would be eligible for, due to the fact that his liver is continuing to function well. He did, however, say that the treatment is extremely rough. Dad thought for a moment and said no, thank you. He also told Dr. Johnson he had decided against opting for the second type of chemo. Dr. Johnson told him that he honestly didn't blame him.

When Mom got home, Dad told her he had made some decisions without her and he hoped she didn't mind. He told her that he had decided against further treatment. Therefore, all that was left was to call Hospice. Today was the kind of day no one should ever have to endure. My mother has dealt today with two calls to Hospice for two different patients--her husband and her mother.

The long and short of it is that Hospice will be coming to Mom and Dad's house on Monday to discuss things (like getting a hospital bed, as Dad is getting sick of his recliner). The Hospice nurse will come to the hospital tomorrow to sign papers for my grandmother's care. Hospice will care for her for three days at the hospital, and if she makes it for three days, they will then evaluate whether she is well enough to be moved to a nursing home. At any rate, we are not looking at more than a few days more, according to the doctors.

I am still completely numb, to be honest. As I said previously, it is really like I am discussing someone else's family. I absolutely do not blame Dad in the least for the decision he has made, and yet, I haven't quite accepted the fact that I likely do not have more than a few more months with my father. It is real and yet it isn't. I've been spending a lot of time on the phone with my brother; I find comfort in talking things out with him. As a child I adored my older brother, and as an adult I have found him a better friend than I ever thought possible; the bonus is that he is an equally good friend to my husband. Laura and I have grown closer through all of this, too, with both of us trying to help Mom as much as possible with Mom-o.

I do ask for continued prayers for all of our family members who do not live nearby. Dad's family is spread out all over the South, with people in Texas, Louisiana, Alabama, and Florida, as well as Tennessee. It is difficult for everyone, especially his mother, who is making her second trip up this weekend in as many weeks. Please pray for peace and easy travel for all of those who are trying to make their way up here to spend time with Dad.

A couple of pictures

I forgot to post these earlier, with everything that has been happening. Luke's first birthday was Sunday, January 4th, and Dad managed to summon the strength to make it to his party. We got some sweet pictures of him with Laura, Eric, Emma, and Luke.

Emma loves her Papa and immediately got a kiss from him.

Then we got a family photo.

Weary

We are all utterly exhausted. We are simply spent--emotionally, physically, psychologically. We have been keeping vigil at the hospital with Mom-o (our name for my mom's mom) for days now, with little change. Night before last, we were essentially told the end was imminent, so I called a sub for yesterday (Wednesday), and Laura, Mom, and I camped out in her room all night, with someone awake at all times to monitor her (they removed her heart monitor when we told them "comfort measures only," so if her heart were to stop, the medical staff would not know). I will tell you that it was utterly horrifying. Her blood pressure plummeted all day long, until the bottom number was 29 at one point. She made horrible noises as she struggled for air, and over and over, we thought it was the end. But, as is typical of the world's most stubborn woman, she rallied.

Finally, at 5 am, I couldn't take it anymore. Every time we thought the end was near, I almost threw up. I finally had to go home and get a little sleep. I slept an hour and a half when I got home, got up to help Mark get the kids out the door, then collapsed back in bed. I slept until 11, went to the hospital for an hour or two, then came back home and slept some more. I went back to the hospital around 4 and stayed until a little after 8. Her condition had improved somewhat throughout the day yesterday--her blood pressure was back up closer to normal levels, and every time she opened her eyes, she actually seemed lucid. Her heart rate, however, continues to hover around 130 (where it has been for days now). There is only a certain amount of time that a heart can sustain a rate like that, so we'll see what happens with that.

I literally had barely seen my children in two days and I missed them. So I got home last night a bit after eight, just in time to squeeze Kate and take her up to bed. She seemed so happy to see me and it made me want to cry. I wanted to spend time with her, but it was already over an hour past her bedtime. I did get to spend some quality time with Dan, though. He wanted to watch Maisy (I think he is in love with this mouse), so we cuddled up on the couch and watched Maisy have some adventures with her friends. Then I put him to bed. It felt so good to snuggle with him.

My cousins Angie and Toni came up to the hospital last night to stay with Mom-o, and we were so thankful to have them there so we could take a break. As of right now, I haven't been informed of any change, so I suppose things are much the same.

On to Dad. I still don't think he's made a decision about whether to try the new chemo. It has only about a 5 to 10% chance of helping, but even if it does, we are still looking at 3-6 months. He is sick and tired of his recliner, so we are actually at the point of considering getting a hospital bed in the living room, so he can have the big bow window to look out of, and the T.V. to watch. He is very weak, and the thrush is still bothering him, so he still isn't eating much. If he decides to abandon chemo, the next step will be to call in Hospice, and honestly, I can't believe I just typed that.

Mom and I have been talking about all this, and it's almost eerie, the calm with which we are all handling it. Mom is, of course, utterly exhausted (she looks like a walking zombie), but emotionally, she seems okay, as we all are. And I think the reality has just not hit us yet. Mom and I said last night that as we are talking about all of this--Hospice, hospital beds, abdominal drainage tubes--that it's like we're talking about someone else. We have these conversations and we deal with things, but it's as if we are in a really bad dream from which we know we will wake up.

My part of it is that I am really good at compartmentalizing things. And I have to be. I have so many plates to juggle right now that I just simply don't have time to lose it. I have to be a mom to my kids, and they are way too young to understand any of this, so there's no use in scaring them by being a basket-case. I have to teach my students, and it's not their fault my life is falling apart, so I owe it to them to go in each day and be the best teacher I can be. I have to be a wife to my husband, who, God bless him, has been absolutely amazing through all of this. Still, though, it's not fair to him for me to just be emotionally absent. I feel a little like Scarlett O'Hara: "I'll think about that tomorrow." I guess there will be time to fall apart later.

Please continue to keep our family in your prayers. I feel as if we are neglecting Dad right now, with all of us practically living at the hospital. He isn't complaining, of course, but we are torn, because we want to spend every second possible with him, but at the same time, we feel the need to be at the hospital because we don't want Mom-o to be alone. Pray for Mom, who is on the brink of collapse from the exhaustion. Pray for my sister, who continues to juggle her two kids while trying to help Mom as much as possible. And pray for my three siblings who are out of state and have to rely on updates from us and figure out ways to get up here to spend time with Dad in what time he has left.

CAT scan results

I wish I had something cute or snappy to say...but I don't. As expected, we did not receive good news today. Dad had a bad night last night, with a lot of back pain (he has been relatively pain-free thus far, so that was a bad sign). And the sores in his throat from the thrush are still very painful for him. My mom is exhausted, between Dad and her mother, and although I haven't spoken to her yet (I got this news from my sister), I am sure she is essentially just numb from everything.

The CAT scan showed a little bit of shrinkage on some of the tumors in the abdominal lymph nodes, but the liver is still mottled with cancerous lesions, the largest of which is about an inch and a quarter in size. What we don't understand is why his liver function is still so good. Apparently it should not be by this point. Dad's oncologist is going to call another doctor in Nashville, and Dad said if that doctor is interested in seeing him, he will go. There is also the option of starting a course of a different chemotherapy drug (Dad hasn't decided on that yet), but apparently we are looking at 3-6 months now, new chemo or not (I'm assuming the only purpose of new chemo would be to improve quality of life, but I'm not sure at this point).

Naturally, we are all completely broken about this development. It is not as though we expected him to go in and have the doctor say, "See you in twenty years; you're cured!" But it's difficult to have the time whittled down in such a concrete way. I think of all the plans Dad had for Dan and all the things he wanted to do in his retirement and it is heart-breaking to know that those things are (most likely) not to be. I wanted Dad to take Dan deep-sea fishing with Uncle Wyatt (and even though Mark promises that he and Danny will take Dan out on the boat with Uncle Wyatt, it won't be the same without Daddy there, too). Dad bought Dan a lifetime Tennessee sportsman's license for his third day, and Mark had looked forward to the three of them getting to teach Dan to hunt and fish. Now that will be his job alone--with perhaps some help from Danny and Uncle Wyatt.

Things continue to go downhill for my grandmother, so please pray for peace and understanding for everyone at this difficult time. This has been, by far, the darkest season of our lives. It makes clear the difference between what is important and what is petty, but my, what a way to learn such a lesson.

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Honestly...if it wasn't so frustrating, it might be amusing. As I said, Dad had 3.7 L of fluid drained from his abdomen yesterday, so his belly feels great! Woo-hoo, he can finally eat! Except...no, he can't. The chemotherapy has given him a bad case of thrush in his mouth and throat, so he is in a lot of pain and eating, although now not painful for his belly, is very painful for his mouth and throat. Ahh, one step forward...you know the rest.

He is on medication for the thrush, so let's pray that it resolves itself quickly so that he can begin eating a bit more heartily and perhaps put some weight back on. He is entirely too thin.

There is happy news to report today, though. I know I probably sound like a broken record in regards to the general awesomeness of friends and family through all this, but I have to just say again that we have some AMAZING friends and family! My parents' dear friends, Darrell and Teresa Widner, Mark and Mindy Murphy, and Tim and Sherry Bryant all gave up their Saturday morning and spent it in my parents' wet, smelly basement ripping up carpet and padding. No one ever goes down there anymore, so there is just stuff piled everywhere--and all of it had to be moved as they moved through, ripping up carpet and padding along the way. My Mark and Mark Murphy then went outside and raked and shoveled all the dirt and leaves that have built up at the end of the house and cause the water to stand and then back up into the house. I wanted to help but we had our kids there with us, so mostly I just "supervised" the process (haha) while watching the kiddos. Dan and Kate were cute as they rode the Gator outside and watched with big eyes from the stairs as the adults pulled the carpet up. By the time they left, the house smelled SO much better. My parents are so blessed to have such wonderful people in their lives. It did my heart good to see these amazing friends work so hard to help Mom and Dad out. Thanks, guys, if you're reading this! We love you!

Abdominal Fluid Drainage

Dad had the procedure to drain the fluid off of his abdomen today. They drained 3.7 liters! Wow, that's a LOT of fluid. I think he feels much better with this load quite literally off of him. Let's hope he can eat better now that he won't have to worry about feeling so bloated when he's finished.

My parents' dear friends Darrell and Teresa Widner and Mark and Mindy Murphy are coming to the house tomorrow morning to rip the carpet out of the basement. The smell is so strong right now that it almost knocks you down when you enter the house. I spent an hour over there this afternoon doing some things for Mom and Dad, and when I got home, Mark wanted to know why I smelled so bad--it's that strong. So the carpet is going bye-bye. I am so thankful for amazing friends.

Laura has been at the hospital almost non-stop with our grandmother, since Mom is so covered up with Dad right now. Mom stayed until 3 this morning, and Laura was there until 6 this morning, then back for most of the day. I went over for about four hours this evening, and she really doesn't seem to be doing very well. Her breathing is labored and she is having difficulty swallowing. Please continue to keep Mom, Dad, and my grandmother in your prayers.

Seriously--when it rains, it pours.

Forget all this stuff about bad things happening in threes. I think bad things are happening more like...in the dozens for us right now.

First of all, my grandmother is still in the hospital, and while I don't know all the details, it goes something like this--there is now fluid on both lungs (which they will drain and test tomorrow), she is still VERY confused and disoriented, they think she may be in the early stages of kidney failure, and they are going to do an upper G.I. tomorrow to ascertain whether she has some sort of mass in her abdominal area (I'm not sure what is leading them to that suspicion). This is all stressing my mom out, of course--since she clearly doesn't have enough to worry about right now.

Then, on top of that, there was the basement. If you live in our area, you know that we have gotten ridiculous amounts of rain lately. My parents' basement has always been damp and somewhat prone to taking on water, as it were, and even though it hasn't happened in awhile, I guess the timing was just too perfect, with all that's going on. Mom woke up to a musty smell this morning. Yep--the carpet in the basement was soaked. Excellent. Of course Dad is too weak to do anything about it, and Mom couldn't handle it alone. So she called my dear sister and asked her to see if her church had a Wet-Vac she could borrow. Laura called the church up and asked for some dudes. And, as is typical of the wonderful people at Grace Point, four amazing men showed up to my parents' house with a Wet-Vac and took care of business. I don't think any of them read this blog, but I just want to send out a thank-you to them. My sister attends church with some of the most loving, giving people I have ever met. This sort of thing is not at all out of the ordinary for them, and in fact, they are all bending over backward to help my parents and my sister with any need they may have throughout all of this, even though my parents are not members there. So even though the basement flooding was another dark spot, God managed to turn it around and make it a bright spot by reminding us that there really ARE good, decent people out there!

The worst part came later. Let me be clear at this point that we don't know anything yet for sure--we're just reading into it--but we kind of have a bad feeling. After Dad had his CAT scan on Monday, he was told to call today for the results. They called this morning and were told the nurse practitioner, Tina, would call them back. She did, but she wouldn't tell them anything except that she wanted to bring them in on Monday or Tuesday (Dr. Johnson is out of town this week) so that Dr. Johnson could discuss the results with them. Again, she didn't tell us anything more, so we don't know for sure, but suffice it to say that we do not see this as a promising sign. We already know that the cancer is in some of the abdominal lymph nodes, but we don't know how much, if any, it has spread. We are assuming that they are NOT, at this point, going to tell us that the lesions on his liver have decreased in size in response to the chemo. We are somewhat going on the assumption that Dr. Johnson is going to discuss whether or not Dad wants to continue with the chemo (but then again, you know what they say about people who assume...).

It has, overall, been a discouraging day. I have been rather steady for the past week or so, but after today I am feeling teary and emotional again. I don't worry about myself, though--I worry about everyone else. Dad still seems to be in good spirits, and Mom is handling everything with the grace and pluck that I've come to expect, but still, this just absolutely can't be easy. Please continue to pray.

One final note--Dad is going to have a procedure tomorrow to have the fluid drained off of his belly. This should help quite a bit in easing the misery he feels after he eats. Please pray that the procedure goes smoothly and gives him a great deal of relief.

Blood work and CAT scan

Dad went Monday for his weekly blood work and his first CAT scan on the liver since they did the biopsy. The blood work results were all good, except for one thing (he couldn't remember what it was) that has to do with the reason he is so bloated. He said the nurse took one look at his feet and her eyes got really big, so he is now on a diuretic. Yay! The bloating has been a real problem for him as of late, so we are hoping this will help. He said he did nothing but pee the first day he took it!

He doesn't get the results of his liver scan until tomorrow (Thursday). He has to call down to get those, which he is not happy about. We are wondering what happened to the days when doctors delivered test results in person. He actually got the news that he had cancer over the phone. He really was not a happy camper about that. And who would be? So apparently he will get his CAT scan results over the phone as well. I'll let you know those results as soon as I know something.

Good News on Second Chemo Treatment

Good news! Dad has weathered his second chemo treatment really well, with no vomiting, and, as far as I can tell, minimal nausea. Laura took him down to the hospital yesterday morning (Friday) to get another IV of the anti-nausea drug that has helped in the past, just to try to perk him up for this weekend--his mother, two brothers, and a nephew drove up to hang out with him.

Eating still poses a problem for him. He knows he has to eat, so he does, but he always feels like crap afterward. It's an ongoing problem that we haven't found a solution to.

He goes on Monday for another scan of his liver to see if the chemo is having any effect. We do know that his liver function is still good; what we don't know is if the existing lesions have gotten bigger, smaller, or remain unchanged. Please keep praying--not only for test results, but for his everyday wellness and for Mom, too. My grandmother is still in the hospital and Mom is stressed beyond belief.

And of course...pray for Dad, that he can somehow find the strength to go on in the face of Alabama's demoralizing defeat last night. :)