(no subject)
The CT scan results were not as conclusive as I would've liked them to be. The chemo treatment he was on made things marginally better in his lung, no different in his bones, but then liver got worse. Such news didn't sway anyone one way or the other in terms of what the future will bring, except that my dad's now on a new chemo regiment and a slew of drugs still. I counted literally 10 different prescriptions in a bag, and I've lost track of which one's he's actually taking.
Call me pessimistic, but I don't foresee this new round of chemo being entirely effective, at least not in a way that would prolong his life longer than a year. Even if it did, I struggle to see the light with regards to his personality and demeanor turning back into what it once was. It's startling terrifying thinking about how much his demeanor has changed over the past three months. I don't usually vocalize my feelings on this front because it's from which 99% of my guilt is derived, but the truth is that I do believe the majority of my time spent with him is with that of a stranger. Psychologically, something definitely happened over the past month or so, though no one can pinpoint what it was. He no longer has any real motivation to get better and acts almost complacent with being not just handicapped, but demanding, unapologetic and simply downright mean to those who are with him the most. Maybe it's the chemo, maybe it's not, but it's worn down my mother and me to the point where the thought of dealing with this for months on end is literally unbearable.
I don't understand why, given that he probably only has a few months left before Hospice and shit like that happens, that he doesn't, oh I don't know, enjoy the time he has to spend with those who love him. Instead, he acts simply pitiful, claiming to be unable to do essentially anything for himself without making any effort to better his situation. His physical therapist tells us he's extremely difficult to work with and won't answer her questions or will flat-out tell her she's wrong. My mom and I cannot win regardless of what we say or do. I know it's something gone awry mentally but it does not make it hurt any less. It also doesn't help that I've started working full time again at a job I don't give a shit about, but it still makes me exhausted since I'm up at 6:30 every day, and the last thing I want to do is come home and continue to do bitch work until I go to bed. But I do. I make his afternoon snack, do the dishes he ignored, take the dog out, whatever. That was why I almost snapped last week when, after all this was done, he sat me down and told me quite forthrightly I was not doing "enough". I swallowed my ire and asked him what he meant and he said he just noticed that lately I come home and don't do "anything" and it's pissing him off. I can ignore the fact that he hasn't noticed that I've literally put my entire life on hold for him, decided not to go through with a number of decisions I would've wanted to do because of him, and am completely unable to move out and start being a fucking 24 year old because of him, but to say that I'm not doing enough was truly more than I could handle. This is where I'm at now.
And this is where the guilt comes in. My mom and I are sick of this terrible attitude and treatment, and no doctor or social worker seems to think this is a problem. So we start thinking about life after he dies. Moving on, going on a vacation, selfish shit that sounds so fucking nice right now, but then I think I'm HORRIBLE because these luxuries would be a result of his death. I just want his old self back, or not at all. I'm tired of this painful middle ground.
I'm so bitter when it comes to reading or hearing about families who have bonded and fought through cancer successfully. This is not what what Relay For Life commercials show you. It's absolutely fucking hell.
Call me pessimistic, but I don't foresee this new round of chemo being entirely effective, at least not in a way that would prolong his life longer than a year. Even if it did, I struggle to see the light with regards to his personality and demeanor turning back into what it once was. It's startling terrifying thinking about how much his demeanor has changed over the past three months. I don't usually vocalize my feelings on this front because it's from which 99% of my guilt is derived, but the truth is that I do believe the majority of my time spent with him is with that of a stranger. Psychologically, something definitely happened over the past month or so, though no one can pinpoint what it was. He no longer has any real motivation to get better and acts almost complacent with being not just handicapped, but demanding, unapologetic and simply downright mean to those who are with him the most. Maybe it's the chemo, maybe it's not, but it's worn down my mother and me to the point where the thought of dealing with this for months on end is literally unbearable.
I don't understand why, given that he probably only has a few months left before Hospice and shit like that happens, that he doesn't, oh I don't know, enjoy the time he has to spend with those who love him. Instead, he acts simply pitiful, claiming to be unable to do essentially anything for himself without making any effort to better his situation. His physical therapist tells us he's extremely difficult to work with and won't answer her questions or will flat-out tell her she's wrong. My mom and I cannot win regardless of what we say or do. I know it's something gone awry mentally but it does not make it hurt any less. It also doesn't help that I've started working full time again at a job I don't give a shit about, but it still makes me exhausted since I'm up at 6:30 every day, and the last thing I want to do is come home and continue to do bitch work until I go to bed. But I do. I make his afternoon snack, do the dishes he ignored, take the dog out, whatever. That was why I almost snapped last week when, after all this was done, he sat me down and told me quite forthrightly I was not doing "enough". I swallowed my ire and asked him what he meant and he said he just noticed that lately I come home and don't do "anything" and it's pissing him off. I can ignore the fact that he hasn't noticed that I've literally put my entire life on hold for him, decided not to go through with a number of decisions I would've wanted to do because of him, and am completely unable to move out and start being a fucking 24 year old because of him, but to say that I'm not doing enough was truly more than I could handle. This is where I'm at now.
And this is where the guilt comes in. My mom and I are sick of this terrible attitude and treatment, and no doctor or social worker seems to think this is a problem. So we start thinking about life after he dies. Moving on, going on a vacation, selfish shit that sounds so fucking nice right now, but then I think I'm HORRIBLE because these luxuries would be a result of his death. I just want his old self back, or not at all. I'm tired of this painful middle ground.
I'm so bitter when it comes to reading or hearing about families who have bonded and fought through cancer successfully. This is not what what Relay For Life commercials show you. It's absolutely fucking hell.