So I don't really know what to say. I'm typing as I think...
I'm so like my dad, and so close to him. He is a very much man about the house, perfectionist, DIY enthuiast and been married to mum for over 45 years. They've looked after me from day 1 like no other parents, always looking out for me, had absolute kindness for each other, and I've never seen them argue in the 32 years I've known them. The four of us, including my brother, were and still are a tightly bonded family.
Where as in the past the thought of losing my dad seemed decades away, as time went on, we've all aged, and more and more, I felt time is running out constantly. I've stupidly ended up living 75 miles away from them with friends, my job is even further away, and so I have to time share my time with my famliy, when I can visit the odd weekend. Although I have a good job, I'm independent, I'm secure, I don't feel like I've really done much with my life at all, no kids, and I've not fulfilled my ambitions (which no doubt would've involved my dad).
As time passed, there have been some role reversals, I'm no longer in the back seat of dads car drifting to sleep on the way back from somewhere, as now whenever I'm in car it's always me in the drivers seat (when driving back from a break, everyone else sleeps, it is my job to get people home safely). I am now a DIY enthuiast myself, have my own suite of tools, I am a perfectionist, I have taken on the things he used to do. Before he carried the heavy things without a moments thought, but the other weekend there was a moment when a pile of stuff was on the floor between us to be loaded into my car, we both stood up and paused in silence, for a moment I was wondering what he was waiting for. But then I realised that,things aren't what they used to be, for the first time he stopped himself, as I bent down to pick up the items, hurting inside at how things had changed. It was now me looking out for him.
Each time I visited, new things started to go wrong, he lost his sense of smell, he became forgetful and last year I had the trauma of waking up one morning to hear him wheezing for breath before collapsing on the floor. I froze before walking into where he was, he's face was lifeless my insides became cold and vacant and I had the painful expereince of phoning for an amblance, for my own dad! My voice was breaking all over on the phone, I was shaking. The image of him collapsed on the floor haunts me always. He came around in the ambulance, and eventually recovered (kidney stones), but from then on I was forever worried about how long I had lef.
Now to 4-5 weeks ago I found out he was going for a scan. I thought, no, what is it this time, please. He had what seemed to be a chest infection, they thought it was asthma creeping in. The next weekend I visited (3 weeks ago), I asked how the scan went to which my Mum's face changed, saying it's not good, she would tell me later. She wasn't going to tell me until next day when my brother would also be home. But as I asked, that evening she sat down and told me they found fluid on his lung, and abnormalities. He was booked in for a biopsy (2 weeks ago). For the remainder of the weekend I wasn't able to focus on anything, I just procrastinated and unintentionally occupied my mind with thoughts that time was running out faster than I thought. Sunday evenin and it was time to go back home, and once in the car I cried almost all the 75 miles back to my home, and for several days after upset myself over the thought that I might be losing my dad, my mentor, who did absolutely anything for me without question. As the days got lighter I wondered would he be here this summer, how many more visits home would I have before he wouldn't be there, is he going to be here for his birthday? for christmas? or will there be an empty space were he usually sits. It breaks my heart just thinking of going through christmas without him. Even one day when my house mate came home with strawberry seeds, a new interest since my parents started growing their own stuff, my face sunk when I thought about the flowers out growing my dad.
On the day of the biopsy I checked my phone every 5 minutes while at work, checked my personal emails. I couldn't wait any longer, pulled over on the way home from work, and phoned home that evening to check how it went. The biopsy went absolutely fine. At least that bit is over, just had to await the results.
Today, I've arrived back home to visit my parents for Mothers day. His cough even worse, stronger wheezing, barely speaking a few paragraphs before his shortness of breath puts him into a brief coughing fit. I didn't know if the biopsy results had come through yet, but I couldn't wait any longer. I knew mum kept a daily diary, and as soon as I could when alone I looked inside, and turned to see on Thursday the entry "[my dad] has lung cancer."
In private I struggle to keep it together, I await mum to tell me in person all evening, but I guess she is waiting to tell both me and my brother when he is here tomorrow. Even though I already know, I'm dreading to hear the words being spoken. Today I stayed with mum and dad at the dinner table even longer than usual. I try to sneak in the odd glance at my dad, I guess to fill up my head with as many images of him in my mind, or make the most of seeing him still alive. What seemed decades now seems months / weeks. I then look at mum, and see the worry in her face, I can't even imagine how she feels, and what she's going to do without him there. We talk about alsorts at the table, they're trying to keep a brave face about something deep that they think I don't know about yet, whilst I try to avoid mentioning anything relating to future plans.
I don't know what stage the cancer is, and I hate myself for already thinking the worst, like he has already gone, but I just can't stop the endless thoughts of living a life without him there, and thinking of all the things in the future not knowing if he is going to be there for them.
I feel like there is no more reason to persue my ambitions, there's no point without him to share them. I really don't know what to do anymore. I feel like quitting my good job on Monday, giving up on my life, and staying with mum and dad until they've both gone.
People often say cancer was always something that happened to someone else. Well I guess it's now my turn to be that someone else.
Can't say I feel much better after writing all this, no idea what I've just written, this'll probably be my only post. But I guess it's kept me occupied from over thinking about the future for at least 15-20 minutes.
I should really be getting some sleep, but know I'm going to be awake for several hours yet, dreading the official announcement tomorrow. We're a very self aware and proud bunch, always hiding our individual problems with brave faces. But tomorrow, it's going to be real hard to keep it together.
