Lost Summer

This summer is a blur. I drove so many times back and forth to WV from KY, I can't even give you a number or play by play. I've tried writing many, many versions of a post about it. But I no longer feel the need to write details. That information is a part of me. It all pretty much sucks. 

Here is the heart of it, though. My dad had melanoma. By the time they found it toward the end of June, it was in his brain. He received one dose of IV therapy and ten doses of whole brain radiation. The cancer progressed despite these efforts. Over time he got weaker and more short of breath as the cancer took over his brain and his lungs. In August, he left this mortal coil. 

My dad was a big, strong guy. We believe it is his strength, after years of working construction and his natural build, that helped him to live as long as he did with the cancer. It helped his body mask the signs and symptoms that we are only now looking back to make note of. 

My dad was the guy.  He was the ultimate defender of the underdog. Protector of his family. He would do anything for anyone. He was the guy you could call who knew the guy who could do that random thing (you know, if he couldn't do it). He was always game for anything. He'd build you a piece of furniture, help you hang Christmas lights, sell girl scout cookies, or pick you up some maxi pads. Want some homemade spaghetti when you come home? He'll go to Sam Minardi's house to buy some homemade sausage and then this mic from Charleston Ave would make you the best red sauce you'd ever had. Anything mom ever wanted done to the house, he'd find a way to do. He was there. You could count on him. He lived life right. His kindness did result in his getting his ass kicked a few times professionally, but he always recovered and persevered. And in many cases he was forgiving. When mom was going through her dark days, dad filled in all the gaps as best he could. He wasn't perfect, of course, but he was perfect for us. 

The most recurring thought that comes to mind is "how can this be?"  But it is. We are all dealing with it as best we can. I've never experienced grief like this. It can break you apart, like pieces of a puzzle.  And then slowly, piece by piece, you put yourself back together. But there'll always be that piece missing, the one near the heart that you will never stop looking for. 

On Cancer

On Saturday I got a call from home. My sister is home visiting in WV, like she always does in the summer. Dad had been acting weird and spacey and hadn't been talking.  This is very unlike dad. He's a talker, always working on the perpetual to do list, always cracking jokes.  Lately all he could get out was the occasional smile. But he just kept silent and was very tactile, constantly feeling and touching things like the trim around the door. Mom had to go up to his office to make a copy of her drivers license. Mom asked dad which button to push to make the copy and he kept pushing the power button off.  She would turn it back on and say "No, which button do I push to make a copy" and dad would push the off button again.  Baby sister was actually ready to walk out the door to go to camp as a counselor for the week, but after watching Dad told mom she wasn't going.  So mom called his primary doctor and described his behavior and they concluded he may have had a mini stroke related to being recently shocked out of his chronic afib recently.  He said to go to WVU where his cardiologist is. So mom and baby sister packed dad up in the car and drove the 30 min to Morgantown. In the ED, if you mention anything about chest pain or anything heart related, they have you on an exam table faster than you can say "Go Mountaineers!"  They drew labs and they scanned him head to toe. But they didn't find anything heart related. Nope. They found masses on his brain and lungs and lesions on the pancreas and liver. What the fuck.

Baby sister called me once the docs came in and shared their findings. They immediately had internal medicine, neuro and oncology see him. It took until about 2AM to get him admitted, finish scanning him, and get some sort of plan in place. I was out on a date with my lady and some other friends for their anniversary. It was a surreal evening. I think I was just in shock. At some point, sister's text said "come home" and mine said "I'll be there tomorrow." 

I don't know if I slept at all that night. My lady had to work the next day, so once she headed out I dragged my ass out of bed, threw some things in a laundry basket and drove north. I averaged 90-95 the whole way. I was in Morgantown in 5 hours.  Longest 5 hours of my life. I was still getting texts from sister whenever doctors came in. Dad was so quiet when I got there. He just kept looking around and rubbing the sheets and bedside table.  It took him so long to answer questions, to get the words out.  Lots of family were there, made it all easier to bare. 

On Monday morning, they did a puncture lung biopsy. Dad said it was a really bad experience, they didn't medicate him for pain and sedation enough and they yelled at him to hold still. Fuckers. After about 4 long days, they had a result and it was Melanoma.  Stage 4 Melanoma. Dad had a spot on his shoulder in his 30s. The skin doc cut it out super deep and did chest xrays every 6 months for 10 years. 

Cancer of any kind is a sneaky, dirty little bitch.  I am an oncology nurse, so that statement is qualified. When someone gets a diagnosis of stage 4 of any type of cancer, its not good. But somehow, my brain has overridden this knowledge. I have to. This is my dad. I need him alive and in my life. So long as him being alive doesn't result in his suffering.  

The doctors are treating the brain mass as a separate cancer, with whole brain radiation. They are planning on treating the rest systemically with some trial immunotherapy drugs where they rev up the immune system to fight the cancer. Traditional chemotherapy doesn't really work on melanoma, so this is what we have and we are going to go for it. These treatments aren't going to cure dad, but they might give him time and comfort. I can't really allow myself to think beyond that. In fact, I'm fairly emotionally shut down, which I think is a result of being an oncology nurse for two years. Its protective. 

What I have found comforting over the last week is the support friends and family have shown by showing up at the hospital, sending cards and love and prayers on social media. I'm not a believer, but I'll take a prayer or the sending of good energy any day of the week. It helps everyone involved. I'm really thankful this week for those things. For nurses with a good sense of humor. For my ex-husband being so extremely supportive and keeping the monkey all week. For my partner coming to be by our side. I am so incredibly proud of my mom for being so strong and finding her focus so she can keep going.  I'm also proud of my baby sister.  She sent text after text of medical jargon and she nailed it every time. She was able to see the critical nature of the situation, give up a fun week away, and help mom decide to get dad to the ED. She was mom's rock. 

And then there's my dad. He's taken in all of this incredibly confusing and heartbreaking information this week and still decided to go through with this fight. I've seen him come back to life with the help of some steroids. I've seen his sense of humor and personality come back through, that zest for life. He's even working a few hours a day. He's a tough cookie.  

Summer Vacation Destination: NC

 

I've always thought that summer vacation should be at least 2 weeks long.  I'd stay in a less fancy beach house if it meant we could be there for 2 weeks instead of one. But alas, my mother still pays this bill so I don't get to decide. Mumsy simply must have a space that is pleasing to both eye and soul, so alas, one week it is. Next year though, 2.

We are doing the same old thang we do every damn year, but with a few alterations. This year I take my lady and we get to teach her all the things about our place. She loves fishing and I'm super stoked to spend every day getting up early with her and the monkey to hit the beach for some surf or pier fishing. Monkey is having a hard time with the idea of her daddy not being there. I think she will be OK by the time we actually get in the car to start the road trip. He'd just be on the computer all week anywho.  And who knows, maybe by next year he'll come along with all of us. That's what I'm working towards, staying a family.

Meanwhile, I'll start stock piling sun screen, hats, towels, flippy flops and fishing stuff. Next up, all the reasons why we love this beach and can't seem to steer away from it. Ever.

Summer Break is Upon Us

My ex and I totally blew it when we realized, with only weeks of school to go, that we had NOTHING planned for the monkey when school is out. Since forever, and until kindergarten started, we had preschool/daycare. I'm off 2-3 days of the week, depending on whether or not I work weekends, but the rest? The in-laws would only commit to one day a week, but we had to figure the rest out. Luckily there's the very expensive YMCA camps and we are signing her up for 4 weeks of those. It will be loads of fun for the monkey and she will make some new friends. Also, the in-laws are helping with some of the cost. We also signed up for the public pool, so that will help. Here's hoping the water isn't cold all summer...and that monkey and I don't get kicked out for shenanigans. What are you doing with your monkeys this summer? 

One Year Lease

On March 27th, I moved out of the family home. The home where we brought our daughter to from the hospital when she was born, the one I painted multiple times, the one I tried to decorate, the one I cooked many Christmas cookies in, welcomed family and friends, planted flowers, celebrated birthdays and hanged pictures in. Going back to the house since then has been real tough. If I have to spend a significant amount of time there, I spin into a dark hole that is difficult to climb out of. I just cry and cry.  Luckily I have some wonderful people in my life that I can just text and help me climb my way back out. It will get easier over time.

This brings us to my apartment. Two bed, one bath, eat in kitchen and a living room. It’s in an old apartment in an old neighborhood. It’s on a dead end street with a bunch of cute old houses.  To turn left from my street, I have to cross a busy four lane road.  There’s a hospital one block away so we hear every ambulance that drives up. We also live a block away from the fire department in the other direction, so we hear them too. There’s some asshole that honks every morning at 6am as he turns the corner (makes me feel like Andy Farmer and the crazy mail man in Funny Farm).  The neighbors to our left have like 6 dogs that although we’ve lived here 2 months, all bark at us in a frenzy even though they see us every fucking day.  They bark at everything. They bark at the wind.

This is an old house that was built in the 40s and divided into a duplex in the 70s.  Hard wood floors, an adorable (non-functioning) fireplace and mantle, all original windows and a somewhat shitty kitchen. When I looked at the apartment the first time, it had this big awkward island that the owner agreed to have some contractor re-do because it took over the whole damn kitchen. But the counters they put in were put together with bits of glue and cardboard. So much nickle and dime shit up in here. But they put in some new kitchen flooring to replace the shitty old shiny laminate. Of course, it’s super white and textured so it shows all the dirt.  This place was described as having “central air”, but of course it doesn’t push all the way to the second floor. Let’s just say I have a new appreciation for window AC units. 

This place also has a basement! It leaks when it rains. Like little rivers from all corners, straight to the sump pump. Also thankful for sump pumps! Every bug you could imagine lives down there and earlier this week I saw a little garden snake on the stairs. The basement is where the washer/dryer hook ups are.  We had to take out one of the counters to get them through the wonderfully designed kitchen and to the door to the basement. I’m hiring movers when we leave this bitch.

All of this aside, I have made it really homey for me and the Monkey.  She and I painted her room pepto pink, hanged curtains and pics and just jazzed her room up. I’ve not done much with my room but hang some photos. I decided not to paint over the beige walls. They remind me of sand at the beach and go well with my art. Also, I’m tired of painting. Did I mention I painted the entire first floor? I did and it’s a fabulous shade of light grey that really made everything feel fresh.

I’m good with calling this place home-sweet-home…for one year. One. Year.

Molly out. 

Christmas Was a Disaster...And Other Thoughts

Christmas. My sister, my girlfriend, my family, we all had a hard time getting in the mood this year for Christmas. I watched Christmas movies, I cranked up the tunes way too early for social acceptance, drove around the neighborhood with my daughter to look at lights, made cookies galore, wrapped presents, trimmed the tree.  Just...all the things. But for some reason, this year didn't really "feel" like Christmas. 

Here's an old post from December I forgot about. Cheers!

I'm a nurse, the lowest on the day-shift totem pole, so of course I had to work Christmas Eve. I won't complain about it too much, many co-workers had to work 24-26th.  I mean, come on. However, my schedule meant I had to work 22-24 and finish all the baking and wrapping and packing after working all day. Then drive to WV on Christmas day, where the running began and didn't stop until Monkey and I ran out the door to head home on Sunday. We were both so relieved. Sad and relieved. 

Upon arrival, we learned that Auntie's brand new oven caught on fire when she spilled chex mix in the bottom.  That meant mom, dad and sister had to prepare and schlep food to her house Christmas night. But dinner was divine and the company grand, despite the sweaty, hot, new kitchen only half of us could fit in. 

The real ass kicker of the visit was my cousins and their babies. When we were all kids, we all could fit in granny's house with room to play. But all the cousins are married with multiple babies. Screaming, ignored babies and one whiny, ignored granny. Sitting in that house two nights in a row...by night two we (myself, sister and parents) were all so emotionally and physically exhausted we could hardly talk. Monkey and her cousins had a total blast and I'm so happy they got some play time together. But the reality is that we can't ever do that again. And my cousins just seemed to be oblivious to what we were experiencing. I suppose people see what they want to see. Hell, we will probably just do it again next year. Stay tuned for repeat bitching next Christmas, folks!