Thursday

Last weekend dad and Linda were here. We had a really great weekend, Linda also took over my house and gave me some much needed rest. I had no idea how much I would need it in the days that followed.

Monday morning, my father-in-law declared he no longer wished to continue treatment for his cancer. He felt his options had run out, and he just wanted to relax and go. This was devastating to hear, even though we suspected he knew better than any of us. Then a little later in the day, I took dad and Linda to the airport, and said goodbye to him. I will talk to him again, but I probably will not see him again. It was a bit surreal, and I wasn't sure how to react to it. Whatever visceral reaction I am having has not yet made it's way to the surface. Or maybe it has, more to come on that...

Tuesday morning we met with hospice here at home. They had some questions we weren't sure we had the answers to, so Pat and I drove over to the oncologist's office and asked to see him. We discussed Pat's dad's wishes with him, and asked him what the predicted outcome would be if he discontinued treatment versus continuing it. He said the outcome will be the same, and we are looking at six months, probably less. Aside from breaking the hearts of our entire family by telling them this news, news they were not expecting, I could not help but realize I am about to lose two dads, my children are about to lose two grandfathers, at the same time. They both have this "window", which we all know really means very little, but the same time frame- six months. We signed on to hospice, and immediately things started arriving, equipment, nurses, social workers. We were at the same time heartbroken, relieved to be getting help, gearing up for the rough months ahead, and taking care of our kids. My brother-in-law J. came up from his town to help, and he has been a Godsend. I am starting to see how things really did fall into place this past week, slowly it is beginning to come together. J. being here for us and for Pop was definitely meant to be.

Wednesday...well not much happened that day. I can't seem to remember a moment of it. I think we started to feel like we could level off, get started on a new normal. Always a mistake.

Thursday I was doing some yard work, much neglected yard work. It was warm and humid, but not oppressive. I was..we'll call it glowing. Suddenly I felt like I might pass out, and my heart felt like a fish on a boat, I thought it might pound right out of my chest. I have had palpitations before, anxiety attacks and the like, but this was different. I calmly came inside and sat down with some cold water and juice. I chided myself for not eating breakfast. Took some deep breaths. Didn't get better. I got out our blood pressure machine and tried at least fifteen times to get a reading. I thought the machine must be broken, turns out it just can't measure what I had going on. After I sat for a good twenty minutes and didn't feel any better, I thought I should see a doctor. This house has been in such upheaval I decided to do something that, if anyone else had done it I might never forgive them, and take myself to the doctor without telling anyone. I told J. I was going out to run errands and drove over to the Urgent Care. In my defense, it is literally a block away. They whisked me right in and hooked me up to everything before I could even explain everything that happened. Indeed, I was in SVT. 240 beats per minute. Side note- I was not scared. After following Stellan's journey all these months, I know quite a lot about SVT, and I knew we could fix it. And we did. I am, of course looking to meet a cardiologist to dig further, but for now am quite stable. I was just about to be discharged when Pat called home to check on my mom and the kids. My mom? Yes, I forgot to add that part in, and again, things happen as they should. I had called my mom to come sit with me in the ER, until Pat could leave work. There was a point where I did get scared, when a test called a D-dimer came back positive, which indicated the possibility of a pulmonary embolism. The irony of that would not be lost on me later in the day. I had a CT scan, which ruled that out. Thank God. Anyway, after Pat arrived I asked my mom to come here and back up J. with Pop and the kids.

When Pat called her, she told him that EMS was here at our home because Pop was having difficulty breathing. While this didn't help to keep my heart rate down, I expedited my release. I was home in two minutes, and was ready to go to the other hospital to be with Pop and J. I was almost convinced to stay home, after all I just had a cardiac event and resting is probably what I should have been doing. But resting is not what I would have done, my husband was going and I needed to be with him. Then J. called and said Pop had no pulse, and there was a decision to be made. Well, the decision had already been made, and we knew it, I think he just needed to hear it from someone else. Who in the world would want to make that sort of decision?

We got in the car and drove, silently. Having worked in a hospital, I wanted to caution Pat that they would want to put us in a room to wait, the "cry room" as it's commonly referred to. I told him this would be difficult, but to remain calm, because if he lost it they could prevent us from being with Pop. We got to the hospital, and they were doing just that, having us wait. So what do you think Pat did? He stayed calm, and I was the one saying they need to let us back in there right away, we know what is going on already and we need to get in there so do what you have to do goddammit because we are going back there!! *Deep breath* It really took no longer than a minute or two, but I now fully understand what all those families felt when my co-workers and I told them to wait.

But I already knew. J. called me just as we pulled in the parking lot. Two words- he's gone. I did not tell Pat that, because I knew our scene waiting to get into the ER would have gone much differently. My other brother-in-law, also J. was there as well. I walked back with them, and just before we went in, I told them, he's gone.

One by one, I called his sons and their wives. One by one they came. Shock. Disbelief. How have we gone from waiting for radiation treatment to fully kick in and looking forward to relief and better quality if life, to surrendering, to the end, in days? How do we reconcile accepting the decision to enter hospice care and face mere months with Pop, to two days later facing life without him? I know God does not have a Plan B, ever, but I can't wrap my mind around how this all happened. It doesn't make sense to me.

In a physical sense, it is clear. He probably had a blood clot, probably a pulmonary embolism. These are common in cancer patients, as well as patients who spend a lot of time laying in bed. It just happens. And I am sure the timing is never good, for anyone. But I can't help thinking, wondering about all the ironies of the timing of this one. Too many to ponder.