Instead of interspersing updates on Dad in here with all my random rumblings, I decided to just create a new blog for the sole purpose of keeping friends and family up to date on Dad's progress. The address for that blog is www.doug-williams.blogspot.com. Please check for updates, progress, and new prayer requests.
Thanks.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Numb
Dad saw the oncologist this morning. I still do not know the full details of everything that was said (Mom gave it to me in a nutshell), so I will post more if there is more to add. The long and short of it is this: it is very much as I feared. The doctor said that barring an intervention from the Lord, this form of cancer is always terminal. Dad will have his first chemo treatment on Tuesday, followed by a second treatment 22 days later. The chemo is a "quality of life" issue, rather than an attempt at a cure, from what I understand. It helps in approximately 30% of cases. Those odds aren't encouraging, but it is what it is. There was good news to be had, and that is that Dad's liver is apparently functioning very well right now, despite the malignant lesions on it.
Mom and Dad did ask Dr. Johnson (the oncologist) about the worst-case scenario. He said that we may be looking at six to twelve months. In a way, that is actually a little bit of a relief, because Dad has been feeling SO badly lately that we were afraid they'd go in and the doctor would say he had only weeks left. Still, six to twelve months is still an incredibly short period of time. I am very much in shock and quite numb at this point. I feel emotionally drained and all I really want to do is crawl in bed for awhile. I am worried about Dad, about Mom, and about Emma and Dan. Kate and Luke are too young to know anything (that in itself is both sad and a blessing), but the time will come when Laura and I will have to explain this to Emma and Dan and I truly can't even fathom how I will do that. I don't want Dad to suffer, and I don't want to watch him go through chemo and lose his hair. I don't want to watch him waste away and turn yellow.
In short, I was never naive enough to think that my father would live forever, but I always thought I would have more time than this. Your prayers are still appreciated. Please pray for comfort for Dad, for wisdom for his doctor, and for peace and wisdom for Laura and me as we try to explain this to our kids. I worry about my other siblings' kids as well, but they are mostly older and more able to understand, and of course, since they all live far away, they only see Dad once or twice a year. I don't know if that matters, since I've never dealt with this kind of thing before, but I can't imagine that their attachment to him would be as strong as if they saw him practically every day, as Emma and Dan do.
Dad is hoping to feel well enough after chemo to take a trip (presumably to Louisiana). I don't know when that will be, but I am hoping to be able to go, too. Every moment is now precious.
Please continue to pray, and I will update more when I can.
Mom and Dad did ask Dr. Johnson (the oncologist) about the worst-case scenario. He said that we may be looking at six to twelve months. In a way, that is actually a little bit of a relief, because Dad has been feeling SO badly lately that we were afraid they'd go in and the doctor would say he had only weeks left. Still, six to twelve months is still an incredibly short period of time. I am very much in shock and quite numb at this point. I feel emotionally drained and all I really want to do is crawl in bed for awhile. I am worried about Dad, about Mom, and about Emma and Dan. Kate and Luke are too young to know anything (that in itself is both sad and a blessing), but the time will come when Laura and I will have to explain this to Emma and Dan and I truly can't even fathom how I will do that. I don't want Dad to suffer, and I don't want to watch him go through chemo and lose his hair. I don't want to watch him waste away and turn yellow.
In short, I was never naive enough to think that my father would live forever, but I always thought I would have more time than this. Your prayers are still appreciated. Please pray for comfort for Dad, for wisdom for his doctor, and for peace and wisdom for Laura and me as we try to explain this to our kids. I worry about my other siblings' kids as well, but they are mostly older and more able to understand, and of course, since they all live far away, they only see Dad once or twice a year. I don't know if that matters, since I've never dealt with this kind of thing before, but I can't imagine that their attachment to him would be as strong as if they saw him practically every day, as Emma and Dan do.
Dad is hoping to feel well enough after chemo to take a trip (presumably to Louisiana). I don't know when that will be, but I am hoping to be able to go, too. Every moment is now precious.
Please continue to pray, and I will update more when I can.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Oncologist appointment update
This isn't a major update, but I do want to let you all know that Dad's appointment with the oncologist has been moved up to this coming Friday morning. This is all in thanks to Dad's urologist, who looked at the biopsy report and said he'd make some calls. I am relieved, because no matter the news, I would rather just know than take part in this ridiculous waiting game again.
Last night was another tough night because Wayne Billingsley finally lost his decade-plus-long battle with cancer. He was such a fighter. He was told just after last Christmas that it was time to call in Hospice, but he was so strong--he rallied again and again. He was out and about doing things and seeing friends, and that was so encouraging. He had taken a serious turn for the worse in the past month, though, and I am glad he doesn't have to suffer anymore. It was so hard to see him like that, and I know it was so emotionally draining for Peggy, Nikki, and Chad. Now he is at peace, and maybe his family can be, too, now that he is not just lingering here in a pain-riddled shell. It is so difficult, though, to have a close family friend die of cancer when you've just had your own father diagnosed with the disease.
It has been a long time since I really got on my knees before God, but I did that last night after receiving the news about Wayne. I praised God for His timing, for taking Wayne now and ending his suffering, I praised Him that Wayne is home getting an amazing Homecoming with his now perfect and cancer-free body, and I prayed earnestly for Peggy, Nikki, and Chad in their time of mourning, and of course, I prayed for my own father and his doctors, and that I will not have to see him suffer in the same way.
It seems that cancer dominates my every thought in the past week or so, even down to having dreams about receiving chemotherapy and waking up nauseated. I am so blessed that I have not had to deal with things like this before, but it is challenging having to face the idea of my parents and their friends growing older and passing.
That is all for now. I will update again after Dad sees Dr. Johnson.
Last night was another tough night because Wayne Billingsley finally lost his decade-plus-long battle with cancer. He was such a fighter. He was told just after last Christmas that it was time to call in Hospice, but he was so strong--he rallied again and again. He was out and about doing things and seeing friends, and that was so encouraging. He had taken a serious turn for the worse in the past month, though, and I am glad he doesn't have to suffer anymore. It was so hard to see him like that, and I know it was so emotionally draining for Peggy, Nikki, and Chad. Now he is at peace, and maybe his family can be, too, now that he is not just lingering here in a pain-riddled shell. It is so difficult, though, to have a close family friend die of cancer when you've just had your own father diagnosed with the disease.
It has been a long time since I really got on my knees before God, but I did that last night after receiving the news about Wayne. I praised God for His timing, for taking Wayne now and ending his suffering, I praised Him that Wayne is home getting an amazing Homecoming with his now perfect and cancer-free body, and I prayed earnestly for Peggy, Nikki, and Chad in their time of mourning, and of course, I prayed for my own father and his doctors, and that I will not have to see him suffer in the same way.
It seems that cancer dominates my every thought in the past week or so, even down to having dreams about receiving chemotherapy and waking up nauseated. I am so blessed that I have not had to deal with things like this before, but it is challenging having to face the idea of my parents and their friends growing older and passing.
That is all for now. I will update again after Dad sees Dr. Johnson.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Hard day
Today was a hard day for me.
So far, I have done an outstanding (in my opinion) job of holding it all together. I got the news last Tuesday at lunch, and couldn't lose it because I had to go back to my kids (students). After school, I couldn't lose it because I had to go pick up my children and didn't want to scare them by crying in front of them. I haven't had much of a chance to really grieve over the news.
Today, as the designated "science person" in my family, I did some research on cholangiocarcinoma (bile duct cancer, which is what the biopsy report indicated that Dad probably has).
The research is bleak.
I am not going into details here. If you so desire to know, you can Google it yourself. Suffice it to say that I finally had my "freak out" today and have been crying on and off all afternoon (but still, not in front of my kids, because I remember being a child and I know there is nothing more terrifying to a child than seeing a parent cry or be out of control).
I dreamed about chemo last night. It was the last dream I had before I woke up, and when I did wake up, I was nauseated, like I had just gotten chemo and was sick. Guess it's right there in my subconscious more than I thought...
I can't write any more right now. More later.
So far, I have done an outstanding (in my opinion) job of holding it all together. I got the news last Tuesday at lunch, and couldn't lose it because I had to go back to my kids (students). After school, I couldn't lose it because I had to go pick up my children and didn't want to scare them by crying in front of them. I haven't had much of a chance to really grieve over the news.
Today, as the designated "science person" in my family, I did some research on cholangiocarcinoma (bile duct cancer, which is what the biopsy report indicated that Dad probably has).
The research is bleak.
I am not going into details here. If you so desire to know, you can Google it yourself. Suffice it to say that I finally had my "freak out" today and have been crying on and off all afternoon (but still, not in front of my kids, because I remember being a child and I know there is nothing more terrifying to a child than seeing a parent cry or be out of control).
I dreamed about chemo last night. It was the last dream I had before I woke up, and when I did wake up, I was nauseated, like I had just gotten chemo and was sick. Guess it's right there in my subconscious more than I thought...
I can't write any more right now. More later.
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