angry and frustrated
We already knew my dad's prognosis would be terminal. We already knew there would be no treatment and no real options. It seemed like up until our visit with the oncologist, my dad accepted this, but now I know he hadn't.
He's so angry now. Angry that he's only got 3-6 months to live and that chemo would only increase his life span by a couple more months. He's angry at the battery of tests he needs to continue to go through (6 vials of blood yesterday alone) for a few more hours of a compromised life--most of these hours spent in downtown Houston traffic and hospital waiting rooms surrounded by sickness and impending death.
He chewed my mom out this morning about her driving ability telling her she was an awful driver and that all the accelerating and swerving caused his current nausea. He has tons of bruising on his left side caused by the cancerous mass popping the bloodvessels against his ribcage. Somehow that was her fault too. He said he was hungry and she scurried to make him his breakfast, when she wasn't fast enough, he got up and shuffled back to his room. My mom offered to bring it to him and basically replied with "Just shut up."
Part of me wants to just spike everything he eats or drinks with massive doses of opiods and sedatives. We've got all them right here--morphine, fentanel patches, hydromorphone, vicodin, versed, lortab...heck we might as well add the ambien to the mix just to make sure he does fall asleep. All of these were prescribed within the last 3 months. Good grief. I'm surprised there aren't any antidepressents in the cabinet.
Now, before everyone runs off and calls the feds, I assure you I'm not going to do that, but it is tempting. I almost told my dad during our 2 hour delay for his next appointment that if he chose to not even attempt chemo, he wouldn't have to go through all this-all the waiting and lab work, but I kept my mouth shut. Before the definitive word that his condition was terminal, I was able to talk to him freely about how he felt. Now, he just shuts me out.
My mom started crying when montanaisaleg left this morning. I cried too. But ah well, gotta buck up for tomorrow. *sigh* Another visit to the oncologist tomorrow and another bloodtest (because they forgot to order one of the tests on Monday). I really dislike MD Anderson. They are so incredibly understaffed it blows my mind. I guess there's a difference between having a good research until and having a good hospital.
He's so angry now. Angry that he's only got 3-6 months to live and that chemo would only increase his life span by a couple more months. He's angry at the battery of tests he needs to continue to go through (6 vials of blood yesterday alone) for a few more hours of a compromised life--most of these hours spent in downtown Houston traffic and hospital waiting rooms surrounded by sickness and impending death.
He chewed my mom out this morning about her driving ability telling her she was an awful driver and that all the accelerating and swerving caused his current nausea. He has tons of bruising on his left side caused by the cancerous mass popping the bloodvessels against his ribcage. Somehow that was her fault too. He said he was hungry and she scurried to make him his breakfast, when she wasn't fast enough, he got up and shuffled back to his room. My mom offered to bring it to him and basically replied with "Just shut up."
Part of me wants to just spike everything he eats or drinks with massive doses of opiods and sedatives. We've got all them right here--morphine, fentanel patches, hydromorphone, vicodin, versed, lortab...heck we might as well add the ambien to the mix just to make sure he does fall asleep. All of these were prescribed within the last 3 months. Good grief. I'm surprised there aren't any antidepressents in the cabinet.
Now, before everyone runs off and calls the feds, I assure you I'm not going to do that, but it is tempting. I almost told my dad during our 2 hour delay for his next appointment that if he chose to not even attempt chemo, he wouldn't have to go through all this-all the waiting and lab work, but I kept my mouth shut. Before the definitive word that his condition was terminal, I was able to talk to him freely about how he felt. Now, he just shuts me out.
My mom started crying when montanaisaleg left this morning. I cried too. But ah well, gotta buck up for tomorrow. *sigh* Another visit to the oncologist tomorrow and another bloodtest (because they forgot to order one of the tests on Monday). I really dislike MD Anderson. They are so incredibly understaffed it blows my mind. I guess there's a difference between having a good research until and having a good hospital.