Beginnings, Middles and Ends...
So, provided his fever doesn't return, my father will begin chemo on Monday. EDIT: Got call this morning, he's in the ER.
Last month we found out that my dad has stage 4 lung cancer, and that it has metastasized. He's already undergone almost 2 weeks of radiation targeting lesions on his brain. The chemo will begin Monday targeting his lungs, lymph nodes and esophagus. It's all very grueling and intensive for him, but he's in fairly good spirits and says he's going to "fight" this. I spent the day with him yesterday, primarily to take him to his doctor's office because he'd experienced fever the night prior and needed to follow up.
It was such a beautiful day, weather-wise, in New York City, that it ALMOST made me forget at times why I was in The City to begin with. Then he'd start to cough or slow down walking even more than usual, and BAM! Automatic reminder.
==============
EDIT: ok... so I'm jumping in my narrative because I honestly cannot remember what I was going to write after that last sentence.
I'm numb. That's the best way I can describe how I feel right now. I can't cry right now - it's not there. I cried, a lot, when we first got the news of his diagnosis. But right now, I can't.
I know there's a lot of different things contributing to my current mental and emotional state. I also knew this was coming - my feelings, I mean. You see, I think way too much and more importantly, I remember everything. And I know, the past should not over-shadow the present, but I think you have to remember, in order to do that final 'heal'.
Right now, I'm sitting here, trading text messages with my siblings, all of us waiting to see what we're going to do next. Daddy is in the hospital ER. They're reaching out to his primary/oncologist but most likely will be admitting him. Once we know that, then we'll each decide our next steps for the day.
Meanwhile, my thoughts are so damn skattered - as you can plainly see/read. OK, here's how I'll do it...
======================
My father came to NY when he was 21 years old from Puerto Rico. While here visiting family, "met" his cousin, my mother and fell in love and married 4 years later. As stories go, the usual happened: marriage, kids, work, no work, divorce. The spin: my parents are cousins -- therefore, always related.
Idilic childhood? no, not by any stretch of the imagination. Grew up in Spanish Harlem, New York City, also known as "El Barrio", also known as "The Ghetto". As most childhoods in that time and place, you lived life the best you could with what you had and either 'made it' or didn't. I can honestly say that my siblings and I "made it". We 'got out', as it were, but we will always be Barrio Kids and it will always be home.
My childhood memories are extremely varied: some good, a lot of bad and some more good.
I remember a trip to Puerto Rico when I was 2. It comes to me in flashes, like snapshots.
I remember punishments for "being bad" -- being hit with a belt buckle; being punished and put to kneel in a corner on rice.
i remember going to church every single sunday because he said we had to go because we were good catholics.
i remember, at 14, him doing something no father should EVER do to a daughter. I remember telling my mother and being questioned as to whether or not I knew what I was talking about.
I remember, at 16, being beaten to within an inch of my life and having a loaded rifle pointed at my head - all because he and my mother had a fight and I was a convenient target. I remember protecting my siblings by keeping his attention and taking more of a beating so that he wouldn't turn on them.
I remember tears when I was dropped off at college a couple years later.
I remember tears again when doing the father/daughter dance at my first wedding a year later at 19.
I remember being SO ANGRY with him when he DARED to use an EXTREMELY DEROGATORY word about my unborn first child at 23. Anger so intense that I didn't let him meet my child until my second one was born.
i remember many phone calls, asking for forgiveness for the things he'd done throughout my lifetime.
I remember telling him... yes, I'll forgive, but I'll never forget.
Forgiveness was easy. He is my father after all. The man who held my hand as a child in the park. The man who taught me about how to fix cars. The man who taught me how to shoot guns and rifles. The man who's taken MANY YEARS to earn that forgiveness.
======================
EDIT: he'll be admitted to the hospital. he has pheumonia. was at breakfast when I received this latest update. i'll be leaving for nyc shortly, just waiting on one of my sisters to get there first to update me further.
======================
I still don't know what to feel. I'm still numb. I'm angry - because I just realized that there is a part of me that is still MAD at what he'd done to me in the past. And yet, I know, logically that I should not be angry. I know that everything I've experienced in life has shaped me into the woman that I am today. I'm sad. I'm just numb.
I know for a fact that he absolutely loves my children and my husband. He is very happy for me that I've finally found "the one". He told me the other day that he is proud of me; that I am a good mother and that I did a really good job with my kids.
I wasn't looking for validation. I wasn't looking for approval. I'm still not. But I am very glad to know how he feels about it all.
OK. Going to stop for now. My thoughts have trailed off again. But for now - thanks for listening.
Last month we found out that my dad has stage 4 lung cancer, and that it has metastasized. He's already undergone almost 2 weeks of radiation targeting lesions on his brain. The chemo will begin Monday targeting his lungs, lymph nodes and esophagus. It's all very grueling and intensive for him, but he's in fairly good spirits and says he's going to "fight" this. I spent the day with him yesterday, primarily to take him to his doctor's office because he'd experienced fever the night prior and needed to follow up.
It was such a beautiful day, weather-wise, in New York City, that it ALMOST made me forget at times why I was in The City to begin with. Then he'd start to cough or slow down walking even more than usual, and BAM! Automatic reminder.
==============
EDIT: ok... so I'm jumping in my narrative because I honestly cannot remember what I was going to write after that last sentence.
I'm numb. That's the best way I can describe how I feel right now. I can't cry right now - it's not there. I cried, a lot, when we first got the news of his diagnosis. But right now, I can't.
I know there's a lot of different things contributing to my current mental and emotional state. I also knew this was coming - my feelings, I mean. You see, I think way too much and more importantly, I remember everything. And I know, the past should not over-shadow the present, but I think you have to remember, in order to do that final 'heal'.
Right now, I'm sitting here, trading text messages with my siblings, all of us waiting to see what we're going to do next. Daddy is in the hospital ER. They're reaching out to his primary/oncologist but most likely will be admitting him. Once we know that, then we'll each decide our next steps for the day.
Meanwhile, my thoughts are so damn skattered - as you can plainly see/read. OK, here's how I'll do it...
======================
My father came to NY when he was 21 years old from Puerto Rico. While here visiting family, "met" his cousin, my mother and fell in love and married 4 years later. As stories go, the usual happened: marriage, kids, work, no work, divorce. The spin: my parents are cousins -- therefore, always related.
Idilic childhood? no, not by any stretch of the imagination. Grew up in Spanish Harlem, New York City, also known as "El Barrio", also known as "The Ghetto". As most childhoods in that time and place, you lived life the best you could with what you had and either 'made it' or didn't. I can honestly say that my siblings and I "made it". We 'got out', as it were, but we will always be Barrio Kids and it will always be home.
My childhood memories are extremely varied: some good, a lot of bad and some more good.
I remember a trip to Puerto Rico when I was 2. It comes to me in flashes, like snapshots.
I remember punishments for "being bad" -- being hit with a belt buckle; being punished and put to kneel in a corner on rice.
i remember going to church every single sunday because he said we had to go because we were good catholics.
i remember, at 14, him doing something no father should EVER do to a daughter. I remember telling my mother and being questioned as to whether or not I knew what I was talking about.
I remember, at 16, being beaten to within an inch of my life and having a loaded rifle pointed at my head - all because he and my mother had a fight and I was a convenient target. I remember protecting my siblings by keeping his attention and taking more of a beating so that he wouldn't turn on them.
I remember tears when I was dropped off at college a couple years later.
I remember tears again when doing the father/daughter dance at my first wedding a year later at 19.
I remember being SO ANGRY with him when he DARED to use an EXTREMELY DEROGATORY word about my unborn first child at 23. Anger so intense that I didn't let him meet my child until my second one was born.
i remember many phone calls, asking for forgiveness for the things he'd done throughout my lifetime.
I remember telling him... yes, I'll forgive, but I'll never forget.
Forgiveness was easy. He is my father after all. The man who held my hand as a child in the park. The man who taught me about how to fix cars. The man who taught me how to shoot guns and rifles. The man who's taken MANY YEARS to earn that forgiveness.
======================
EDIT: he'll be admitted to the hospital. he has pheumonia. was at breakfast when I received this latest update. i'll be leaving for nyc shortly, just waiting on one of my sisters to get there first to update me further.
======================
I still don't know what to feel. I'm still numb. I'm angry - because I just realized that there is a part of me that is still MAD at what he'd done to me in the past. And yet, I know, logically that I should not be angry. I know that everything I've experienced in life has shaped me into the woman that I am today. I'm sad. I'm just numb.
I know for a fact that he absolutely loves my children and my husband. He is very happy for me that I've finally found "the one". He told me the other day that he is proud of me; that I am a good mother and that I did a really good job with my kids.
I wasn't looking for validation. I wasn't looking for approval. I'm still not. But I am very glad to know how he feels about it all.
OK. Going to stop for now. My thoughts have trailed off again. But for now - thanks for listening.