Solo Flight

Thursday, October 8, 2009

You know how chemotherapy is basically just a load of toxic crap that we hope kills a cancerous growth before it kills the patient? I really think this may have been what was happening to my dad with his treatment. I think it was killing him faster than the primary ailments. Don't get me wrong. I'm not criticizing the medical care he has received. In fact, I have a much greater respect for the difficulty the modern practitioner faces. With so many treatment options and so many maladies to treat in one body, at what point does treatment become a malady of its own? I'll stick to computers, thanks.

There are many ways he seems better now. It would be really easy to look at him and see someone that is actively recovering. And we had some really good time today. He ate well - which is to say he had as much nourishment as the previous two days combined - and conversed pretty freely. With fatigue, however, his conversations become... garbled, for lack of a better term. He replaces nouns with other nouns or with nonsense words. Most of the time there is context: "Can you put a wall over there so I know what time it is?" Other times... not so much: "I need a pleedasees for my digiment." Huh? The really interesting thing is he used to stall for those words. Now he just plows right through with confidence.

You might think that would be unnerving for us or hard to take. But it really hasn't been, though I can only truly speak for myself. He isn't altered. He is clearly himself and his spirits are high. Not joking or whooping it up but clearly not depressed or cynical. There have been many illnesses that he has faced that have been more emotionally difficult for those of us trying to care for him as we watch him struggle to regain or retain certain standards of independence or dignity. Since that really isn't the goal now the time we spend conversing - or decoding as the case may be - is less burdened in some way I can't quite put into words.

I left just before dark tonight. This is my mom's first night alone with him since going to the hospital. We did pretty well together last night. I was worried about not having Sharon with us but we not only managed, I think we excelled. But the fact of the matter is there are some things she cannot do for him alone. He doesn't have the strength to lift his own weight. Sure, there are 24-hour numbers, a Life Line service and a whole bunch of us that sleep with our phone ringers on maximum. But alone is alone and this is the first time she's been this alone caring for anyone this infirm. 48 hours ago she would have come unglued. I would have come unglued watching her come unglued.  This isn't easy, but it isn't 48 hours ago, either.