2016 Year in Review / The Death of my Father and Max the Dog / Paid off the Mazda
I'll come to look back at 2016 as one of the most difficult years of my life. A turning point, for sure. It's been more than three months since my last entry which I hope doesn't become a habit. I've been resisting even writing this entry but I feel it'll be important for my future-self to remember how I felt during this time.
In January, Nicole's brother, Patrick, visited us in Portland. In February, my father landed in the hospital and although I explained it one way in my journal at the time, there was more to the story which Ill explain later in this entry. In March, I was finally hired in at my current job after two years of being a temp.
In April, Nicole and I adjusted to living in our new apartment in Wilsonville. In May, I worked a lot of overtime and pretty much didn't do anything else. June saw the milestone of Nicole's eBay business breaking through 1,000 positive feedback scores.
In July, my friends and some coworkers got together to restart the old Minecraft server we'd run years previously. In August, Nicole and I spent a day on the beach where she didn't wear a drop of sunscreen and spent most of the month recovering from an epic full-body sunburn. In September, Nicole's family visited again and her best friend, Abby, moved away to Montana.
The next few months are where things get sad. In October, my father landed in the hospital with pneumonia and spent weeks there recovering. In November, he again was in the hospital. We spent Thanksgiving in the hospital cafeteria. In December, things only got worse and doctors were warning us he had merely days to weeks to live. On December 21st, my father succumbed to his illness and died peacefully at home in his sleep.
Now here's the whole story of my dad's true condition:
I've been lying to you for fourteen months. Well, a lie of omission that is. When this all began, my siblings and I were asked to keep quiet about the true nature of the situation. My parents are very prideful people and were concerned that announcements of my dad's diagnosis would be met with negative attention from family members and friends whom they consider toxic. To tell the whole story once and for all, let's go back fourteen months to just before my sister's Halloween wedding in October of 2015. My father was battling a chest cold that came and went every year or so. He wasn't concerned but it lingered long enough for my mother to demand he see a doctor. He did and the resulting X-ray showed him to be suffering from a minor illness that was easily treated. However, the doctors saw something else on that X-ray, too...
Small-cell lung cancer was the diagnosis. Forty-some-odd years of heavy smoking had finally caught up with my father. They kept it under wraps until after my sister's wedding so that no one would focus on their situation. No one knew. And no one would know as long as they could help it. Initially, the doctors were very optimistic since it was caught early. They believed that even though we were battling one of the most aggressive cancers known to man, that it could be held back for years to come. My dad immediately went through chemo and radiation. Unfortunately, it aggravated an intestinal disease that no one even knew he had and for months he wasn't eating properly. That's when he landed in the hospital the first time in February.
After that, things seemed to be improving. The doctors thought they got it all and my immediate family thought my dad had just beaten lung cancer. It was a happy time. He went in for a checkup during the summer and that's when the decline began. They found the cancer had returned but this time it had spread to his brain. They radiated the spot but as the months went on, they discovered the cancer in more and more places. By October, the disease was found eating and dissolving his bones. They attempted one last round of radiation to his brain which had the side effect of leaving him mentally unaware for weeks. Right up until the end, he was always mostly unconscious, incredibly weak, and a shadow of his former self. My mother was his primary caregiver and fought the doctors and nurses and everyone right to the bitter end. She never waivered in her belief that if they just stayed the course, that he would get better and live for decades to come. She fought and fought and fought for him. She made sure he got everything he needed to have the best shot of winning. Towards the end, doctors were giving up and telling us to let go. Even 24 hours before his death, they were still trying to plan meetings with doctors and asking about possible treatments. For the longest time no one wanted to believe he was dying but as options ran out and doctors quit our case out of frustration, it was becoming clear.
On the morning of December 21st, Nicole and I went over to the family home where my father was as he barely clung to life. For days previous, he had barely been awake at all and his breathing was loud and labored. He wasn't eating or drinking. It occurred to us that he appeared to have aged thirty years over the entire course of his illness. Our mission that day was to set up Christmas decorations and bake cookies. My mother dedicated literally all her time to caring for my father, so worrying about Christmas decorations was the last thing on her mind. Nicole and I tried to make the home feel cheerful. We put on Christmas movies as we trimmed the tree and filled the house with lights and the scent of snickerdoodles and chocolate. It was a good day. A wonderful day.
In the evening, with our work complete, Nicole and I decided to get some take-out food and return to bring a hot meal to my mom. Almost immediately after we left, my dad's breathing began to stumble. My mom--still at his bedside--called nurses to ask what the new breathing pattern meant. They told her it wouldn't be long now. Meanwhile, Nicole and I were out stuck in traffic. Strangely, two different traffic lights acted very peculiarly during our trip to bring food home. Both times, the signals seemed to stop us and no one else. I've never in my life seen traffic lights do this. Other drivers were so frustrated with the wait that they literally ran the light to get on with their drive. We were delayed at least ten minutes. When we finally got back to the family home, we walked into the front door to hear my mother crying. It had happened. My father had slipped away at about 7:20 PM Pacific time, December 21st, 2016. Had the signals not stopped us, we'd have been there to possibly intervene. Some in my family believe that some spiritual force acted through the traffic lights to keep us from being there so that my father could pass quietly alone with my mother. For some reason, that seems a comfort to me.
It's hard to describe what I'm feeling right now. I think it's still shock. I don't believe it's really hit me that he's gone. To some of us, it feels like he's just in the hospital for a spell again. He's not really gone, right? My mother had been taking it easier than I expected. She's had us kids to rely on in the days since as we've begun to iron out the details of his funeral and tie up loose ends. As if losing my father wasn't hard enough, the family dog, Max, was put down the very next day on the 22nd. For years, that dog has been blind and deaf but he was a trooper. Only recently has it become clear that his own time was nigh. He no longer could use his rear legs and he couldn't help but run into things. My mother was so entrenched with my dad that she couldn't focus on Max, so Nicole and I took him into the vet. As we suspected, the eighteen-year-old dog had extreme tooth decay and neurological disease causing his legs to stop working. His quality of life was gone. We made the impossible decision to put him down that evening.
After Max was gone, I left to call my brother, Ryan, who's in Ohio and I broke down. I lost my composure and allowed myself to feel the pain and hurt. I let it come through me in what felt like waves. I felt like I had to feel it. I managed to wake up and complete the conversation but it began to sink in that life was changing. Here we were. In an empty house which only a few hours previous was full of creatures to take care of. That was my mom's full-time job and now it'll be just her and a middle-aged cat (Sam) in that big empty house. In the days previous, we've been trying to be over there as often as possible to keep my mom company and assist with whatever she needs or wants. I hope it's having a positive effect. I've been allowed to take time off work and it's been good.
I'm not sure what more I need to say about my father's passing. The funeral is in a week-and-a-half and so at that point, I might say something. I feel mostly at peace. We had fourteen months to come to terms with the situation and these last few were the hardest. I rejoice that his suffering is finally truly over and I'm glad my mother can begin clutching her life back out of the maw of this pain. She struggled and focused only on him for so long and now hopefully she can focus on herself and build a new life. I look forward to that. But first, we all need to say goodbye to Dad.
In other news, we paid off the Mazda loan in December. We're once again completely debt-free!
Goals for 2017: Nicole wants a pet dog. Sounds like a plan. We'd also like to look into home-buying but we'll see what happens as the months go on. Here's to 2017. May it suck far less than 2016.
In January, Nicole's brother, Patrick, visited us in Portland. In February, my father landed in the hospital and although I explained it one way in my journal at the time, there was more to the story which Ill explain later in this entry. In March, I was finally hired in at my current job after two years of being a temp.
In April, Nicole and I adjusted to living in our new apartment in Wilsonville. In May, I worked a lot of overtime and pretty much didn't do anything else. June saw the milestone of Nicole's eBay business breaking through 1,000 positive feedback scores.
In July, my friends and some coworkers got together to restart the old Minecraft server we'd run years previously. In August, Nicole and I spent a day on the beach where she didn't wear a drop of sunscreen and spent most of the month recovering from an epic full-body sunburn. In September, Nicole's family visited again and her best friend, Abby, moved away to Montana.
The next few months are where things get sad. In October, my father landed in the hospital with pneumonia and spent weeks there recovering. In November, he again was in the hospital. We spent Thanksgiving in the hospital cafeteria. In December, things only got worse and doctors were warning us he had merely days to weeks to live. On December 21st, my father succumbed to his illness and died peacefully at home in his sleep.
Now here's the whole story of my dad's true condition:
I've been lying to you for fourteen months. Well, a lie of omission that is. When this all began, my siblings and I were asked to keep quiet about the true nature of the situation. My parents are very prideful people and were concerned that announcements of my dad's diagnosis would be met with negative attention from family members and friends whom they consider toxic. To tell the whole story once and for all, let's go back fourteen months to just before my sister's Halloween wedding in October of 2015. My father was battling a chest cold that came and went every year or so. He wasn't concerned but it lingered long enough for my mother to demand he see a doctor. He did and the resulting X-ray showed him to be suffering from a minor illness that was easily treated. However, the doctors saw something else on that X-ray, too...
Small-cell lung cancer was the diagnosis. Forty-some-odd years of heavy smoking had finally caught up with my father. They kept it under wraps until after my sister's wedding so that no one would focus on their situation. No one knew. And no one would know as long as they could help it. Initially, the doctors were very optimistic since it was caught early. They believed that even though we were battling one of the most aggressive cancers known to man, that it could be held back for years to come. My dad immediately went through chemo and radiation. Unfortunately, it aggravated an intestinal disease that no one even knew he had and for months he wasn't eating properly. That's when he landed in the hospital the first time in February.
After that, things seemed to be improving. The doctors thought they got it all and my immediate family thought my dad had just beaten lung cancer. It was a happy time. He went in for a checkup during the summer and that's when the decline began. They found the cancer had returned but this time it had spread to his brain. They radiated the spot but as the months went on, they discovered the cancer in more and more places. By October, the disease was found eating and dissolving his bones. They attempted one last round of radiation to his brain which had the side effect of leaving him mentally unaware for weeks. Right up until the end, he was always mostly unconscious, incredibly weak, and a shadow of his former self. My mother was his primary caregiver and fought the doctors and nurses and everyone right to the bitter end. She never waivered in her belief that if they just stayed the course, that he would get better and live for decades to come. She fought and fought and fought for him. She made sure he got everything he needed to have the best shot of winning. Towards the end, doctors were giving up and telling us to let go. Even 24 hours before his death, they were still trying to plan meetings with doctors and asking about possible treatments. For the longest time no one wanted to believe he was dying but as options ran out and doctors quit our case out of frustration, it was becoming clear.
On the morning of December 21st, Nicole and I went over to the family home where my father was as he barely clung to life. For days previous, he had barely been awake at all and his breathing was loud and labored. He wasn't eating or drinking. It occurred to us that he appeared to have aged thirty years over the entire course of his illness. Our mission that day was to set up Christmas decorations and bake cookies. My mother dedicated literally all her time to caring for my father, so worrying about Christmas decorations was the last thing on her mind. Nicole and I tried to make the home feel cheerful. We put on Christmas movies as we trimmed the tree and filled the house with lights and the scent of snickerdoodles and chocolate. It was a good day. A wonderful day.
In the evening, with our work complete, Nicole and I decided to get some take-out food and return to bring a hot meal to my mom. Almost immediately after we left, my dad's breathing began to stumble. My mom--still at his bedside--called nurses to ask what the new breathing pattern meant. They told her it wouldn't be long now. Meanwhile, Nicole and I were out stuck in traffic. Strangely, two different traffic lights acted very peculiarly during our trip to bring food home. Both times, the signals seemed to stop us and no one else. I've never in my life seen traffic lights do this. Other drivers were so frustrated with the wait that they literally ran the light to get on with their drive. We were delayed at least ten minutes. When we finally got back to the family home, we walked into the front door to hear my mother crying. It had happened. My father had slipped away at about 7:20 PM Pacific time, December 21st, 2016. Had the signals not stopped us, we'd have been there to possibly intervene. Some in my family believe that some spiritual force acted through the traffic lights to keep us from being there so that my father could pass quietly alone with my mother. For some reason, that seems a comfort to me.
It's hard to describe what I'm feeling right now. I think it's still shock. I don't believe it's really hit me that he's gone. To some of us, it feels like he's just in the hospital for a spell again. He's not really gone, right? My mother had been taking it easier than I expected. She's had us kids to rely on in the days since as we've begun to iron out the details of his funeral and tie up loose ends. As if losing my father wasn't hard enough, the family dog, Max, was put down the very next day on the 22nd. For years, that dog has been blind and deaf but he was a trooper. Only recently has it become clear that his own time was nigh. He no longer could use his rear legs and he couldn't help but run into things. My mother was so entrenched with my dad that she couldn't focus on Max, so Nicole and I took him into the vet. As we suspected, the eighteen-year-old dog had extreme tooth decay and neurological disease causing his legs to stop working. His quality of life was gone. We made the impossible decision to put him down that evening.
After Max was gone, I left to call my brother, Ryan, who's in Ohio and I broke down. I lost my composure and allowed myself to feel the pain and hurt. I let it come through me in what felt like waves. I felt like I had to feel it. I managed to wake up and complete the conversation but it began to sink in that life was changing. Here we were. In an empty house which only a few hours previous was full of creatures to take care of. That was my mom's full-time job and now it'll be just her and a middle-aged cat (Sam) in that big empty house. In the days previous, we've been trying to be over there as often as possible to keep my mom company and assist with whatever she needs or wants. I hope it's having a positive effect. I've been allowed to take time off work and it's been good.
I'm not sure what more I need to say about my father's passing. The funeral is in a week-and-a-half and so at that point, I might say something. I feel mostly at peace. We had fourteen months to come to terms with the situation and these last few were the hardest. I rejoice that his suffering is finally truly over and I'm glad my mother can begin clutching her life back out of the maw of this pain. She struggled and focused only on him for so long and now hopefully she can focus on herself and build a new life. I look forward to that. But first, we all need to say goodbye to Dad.
In other news, we paid off the Mazda loan in December. We're once again completely debt-free!
Goals for 2017: Nicole wants a pet dog. Sounds like a plan. We'd also like to look into home-buying but we'll see what happens as the months go on. Here's to 2017. May it suck far less than 2016.