Tuesday, June 29, 2010

The Post With No Title

I'm sitting with my stepfather. We're at the University of Washington Medical Center. If you're going to die of cancer, it's a good enough place.

Last summer he was tired, extremely tired, all the time. Went in for a blood test. Was rushed into the hospital the day the results came back because his white blood cell counts were negligible. Leukemia, at the age of 58.

So we've been through medications and chemotherapy and every treatment, and last week they looked at where he's at and found that the last round of chemo didn't even make a dent in his condition. The conversation has shifted from "This is how we're going to help you get better" to "Here's a brochure about hospice programs in your area."

Hospice. Fuck.

He asked if I wanted any of his things. You know, after. I didn't have an answser. Who would?

My parents are old. My stepfather probably won't see September. My daughter is turning 4. These things are all equally baffling to me, but it's just the passage of time going on as it always has. I can curse the calendar, but the pages will turn as they always do, uninterested in what I think about the matter.

The only constant is change.

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2 Comments:

Blogger The Science Goddess said...

Hang in there as best you can.

I won't claim that I know what you're going through, only offer some empathy after watching my mother battle brain cancer last year. I remember the conversations about what stuff should go where...hospice (or "palliative care" as it is known in Canada)...and all the other personal junk you have to deal with whether you want to or not.

I'll be thinking of your family and you---wishing you strength.

10:31 AM  
OpenID drhomeslice said...

I'm so sorry. I was going to ask you if you would be at this NEA RA, but I think I know the answer.

12:24 PM  

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