Just a matter of time

Like it is for all of us I suppose, eventually we will meet our destiny and we've now been told that dad's time with us is coming to an end and that he can only be made comfortable and will not be in a position to improve or gain any strength.  It is very sad and distressing for the family to see him like this and I've often felt that this is the cruelty of the disease.  It tears up your loved ones before your eyes and you've got no chance to do anything about it.  In olden days, I'm guessing he would be dead by now as he would have contracted such a serious series of infections that would have been untreatable.  These days, they can work miracles and indeed so they have but at what cost?


I remember going to the funeral of my uncle who died very suddenly and the vicar spoke about how sometimes it was better like that.  He died young and whilst it was one hell of a shock we would always remember him like that, as we had known him the last time we saw or spoke to him.  It was a hell of a shock to us all but I kind of understand what he was saying and in a way, and I really don't mean to be cruel, it might be better if dad didn't wake up tomorrow morning.  I know you'll think that an awful thing to say but that's how it feels and he's enjoying no quality of life and isn't likely to either, he is deteriorating and being kept alive by the wonders of medical science.  


This isn't the man who I've known all my life and it isn't the way I want to see him or how he would want to be seen either.  I certainly don't want to remember him like this I want to remember him as my dad, as my father, the guy that taught me wood and metalwork and the forward defence stroke, to play football, fly a kite, build sandcastles and all that good father son stuff.  Now he's a frail and frightened man, not even in his home, being looked after by overworked nurses and doctors and frankly wasting away before our eyes.  I feel sorry for my mum who has stood up to all this for these past 10 months or so.  Of course you never really want someone to die or to no longer be there but you never ever want them to suffer like this - although suffer may be too strong a word.


Cancer, as I've often said before, works on many levels beyond the disease itself because of the way it is perceived and understood and misunderstood all at the same time.  Early posts explore this element of the disease and yet then it was about me and what I was going through and the shit I put my family through (note that it wasn't cancer that did that - it was my fault!).  That's another one of those things you do.  My fault, I caused suffering for others and so on - how strange is that.  It's as if you had been hit by an uninsured driver and it was your own fault for being there at the wrong time!  Bizarre thing  cancer.


So, there's me being wicked and being concerned and looking in to dad's eyes and seeing the fear.  Fear to go to sleep in case he doesn't wake up, of his eyes failing and being blind and then he looks at the flesh hanging down loosely from his arms and pulls a disgusted and fearful face at that.  His voice is becoming feint and his strength is going, his patience is growing shorter and his comprehension skills are failing as he fails to understand what you say to him.  Now his feet and hands are growing cold and gradually his body is shutting down.  


I'm not sure if I'm just braving this out or have rationalised it in my head or through my own experience when looking back at my dark days.  I wonder if things hadn't gone so well whether I'd have thought any differently.  I'm hoping that I am thinking pragmatically about death.  I hope that I have no regrets and that I am comfortable with my lot, that I made a difference to someone, anyone, and that I lived a good life and did the right things.  I certainly feel this way more so because cancer became my great leveller and that I also learnt some key lessons during that time.  I had 2 years to re-build myself and my confidence in the charity and whilst I saw some pretty bleak and awful things happening to other people, it made me realise how lucky I was.  I also "made a difference" in the time that I was there, that was the thing, I did something for other people and many didn't know who I was.  


I look back at achievements and they aren't what you think they may be.  They are my children and their upbringing, their work for other people and their work ethic and maturity.  I look at the difference I made to other lives and these things are my achievements.  The rest of the things are material and transient, worth less now than when you bought them.  We have everything we need, shelter, warmth, food, health - not sure what Maslow would make of it but there you go.  In many ways I think another achievement may be to educate those friends and those acquainted with me that cancer isn't what they thought it was, that you could take an attitude to it and that you can beat it and you can come through it.  Now I look back and wonder and see how people viewed me and I don't see myself in their description of me.  I never really thought I was ill or even looked ill but some of the photos do show me looking drawn and grey, I now look a lot better and often get reminded by my mates that I used to look like sh1t :-)


So - big change in my attitude, 6 years ago I would have wanted a fast car, big house, dah de dah but now, that actually isn't on the important list at all....  However, not everyone thinks like that and so that also makes for an interesting time.