Why am I fighting?
My first post on this blog I talked
about how I become an FTEC fighter. I didn’t
really delve into WHY I wanted to become one or what this means to me. There are a lot of reasons, but a few big
ones stand out in my mind. This is
reason number 1.
Growing up I thought I was lucky – I didn’t
really KNOW anyone personally who had been touched by cancer. Other than my grandfather, who passed away
long before I came to be, all the illnesses in our family seemed to be heart
related or other. These days, you can’t
throw a stone without hitting someone who has been personally touched/affected
by cancer. And it sucks.
My luck ran out in November 2004.
Something strange happened – my dad’s skin turned “yellow”. He seemed fine, we all joked about it (too
much drinking on recent boys trip, etc) yet it was weird and it wasn’t going
away so he went to the hospital to get it checked out. The hospital said he had a blocked bile duct,
he would need a small procedure to fix it and all should be fine. They did the procedure and told us to come
back in a couple of weeks for a follow up so they could see how everything was healing. What they didn’t tell us was that during the
procedure they saw something that concerned them, and they took some
samples.
It was about a week later my dad got a call and they asked him to come
back in. I was slightly concerned that
they had called him earlier than they wanted him to come back but didn’t really
think too much of it. However, this was
a life changing call. When he went back
in to see the doctor, my dad was told they thought he had a rare form of bile duct
cancer or pancreatic cancer. Either way,
it was not good news. They started
scheduling tests immediately and looking to get him in with a surgeon.
During these first couple of weeks after finding out this news, life was
a whirlwind. There were tests and doctor
referrals and everyday information was changing yet we still had no clear
answers. I went to all the tests with my
dad, called doctors and assistants and offices trying to get answers,
appointments, etc. Finally, after what
seemed like an eternity but really was only about a month since this all started,
we got into see a top-rated surgeon. The
surgeon told us he believed he could perform a surgery called the Whipple and
that should help with my dad’s prognosis/life span. They still weren’t 100% sure what my dad
actually had or was diagnosed with, but this seemed like the best option given
what they had been able to determine from all the tests. And we were thrilled to hear this as, from
what we understood, the Whipple wasn’t an option for most patients yet was
probably my dad’s best chance, assuming this was pancreatic cancer. All this said, we were told there were no
surgery dates until March at best. While
we were sitting in the surgeon’s office, listening to him outline the procedure
and ask questions, the surgeon was called out of the room. When he returned, he had some news. He just had an opening in surgery for the
following Monday. Today was Thursday,
about a week or so before Christmas. That
meant surgery would be in less than four days!
My dad was nervous about the surgery – who wouldn’t be? Now even more so given this update – that it
was only a few days away. I said to him,
“Dad, just think, better this way than to stress about it for the next couple
of months. This way you don’t really
have a chance to be nervous.” My dad was
actually supposed to be going for yet another test on that coming Monday but
the surgeon said we wouldn’t worry about it – better to take the surgery date
while we could. So that was it – he was
booked for surgery.
But I also had some news of my own.
I was pretty sure I was pregnant.
WTF??! We had been trying (what
felt like) forever to start a family and had pretty much decided to put it on
the backburner for a bit. However, the home
pregnancy test I took the day before (and then again that morning!) was telling
me things had changed. The tests came
back positive. I wanted to get a blood
test just to be sure before I broke the news.
The next day I went to a walk-in clinic and they did the test. When I explained the circumstances we were
going through, they rushed the results and called me the next morning
(Saturday) with the news. Yup. It was positive. I was pregnant. Christmas was exactly one week away and my
dad was going to be admitted the next day for his surgery. Life changes fast!
I called my parents as soon as I received the official “positive” results
and told them they were going to be grandparents. My dad was over the moon. He had been wanting “real” grandkids forever. We had a dog, and he joked it was his grand-dog,
but he wanted a real live grandbaby, one without fur. That night he had his office Christmas party. My mom said he told anyone and everyone who
would listen to him that he was going to be a grandfather, he was just so ecstatic.
The next day was Sunday – and he was admitted to the hospital for
pre-surgery prep. My mom stayed with him
all afternoon and overnight. I stayed at
my parents’ house with my sisters. The
plan was to be together and head down to the hospital mid-day on Monday as the
surgery would take at least 8-9 hours.
Monday mid-morning my phone rings – it’s my mom on the other end. She is sobbing, I can’t make sense of what
she is saying but what I get from her is that they are closing my dad up and
they found something different than what they expected. They can’t do the Whipple. She needs me to be there to talk to the
surgeon because she can’t understand what he is telling her.
I rushed my sisters into the car and we raced to get downtown. We had no clue what was in store for us. When we got to the hospital, I found my mom
and the surgeon was paged. He took me
into a small room and gave me the news.
My dad doesn’t have pancreatic cancer.
He doesn’t have bile duct cancer.
He has colon cancer. And it has
spread. There is nothing they could do. So they closed him back up. Perhaps, with chemotherapy, my dad could live
another 18 months or so. Colon
cancer. Where did that come from?! My dad was 51 years old and was supposed to
have had his first colonoscopy that day – that was the test that got bumped because
of the surgery. It was shocking
news.
They brought my dad back to his room from recovery – he was still
asleep. I remember sitting beside his
bed, waiting for him to wake up. How
would he react to this news? It was
crazy that we all knew his fate before he did.
When he opened his eyes, he reached for my hand and the first thing out
of his mouth was “how’s the baby?”. I
still tear up every time I think about this and literally right now as I write this. That was my dad. And that is why I still miss him terribly
even after all these years.
My dad didn’t make it to 18 months.
He didn’t make it to the birth of his first grandchild. He didn’t even make it to chemo. About six weeks after the surgery, the day we
actually found out his diagnosis, my dad passed away.
So you see, this is a personal battle for me. A second chance at coming to terms with
losing my dad so young and so suddenly.
A chance to truly mourn his passing.
A chance to fight back, to feel like I can DO SOMETHING about it.
Sadly, these days, who hasn’t had cancer affect them personally? It is a heart-wrenching, painful, life-changing,
horrifying experience. Cancer is an ugly
word. It is a word I want to do away
with. I want to fight this fight so we
can banish this word from our vocabulary.
When I first started this journey and sat down to write my story for my
fundraising page, one of the things I had to come up with was a number…a number
that would be my goal I would strive to hit with my fundraising. There are a lot of numbers that I could have picked,
however, one number stood out in my mind.
12. The age of my son. The number of years my son has missed out on making
memories with my dad, his grandfather. This
is how $12,000 became my personal goal to reach. I hope I hit this. Heck, I hope I can DOUBLE this. No amount is too much or too little when it
comes to what we are fighting for.
Thank you for taking the time to read this,
Dawn
Instagram: FTEC2018dawnmillar
Facebook: Dawn Curnew Millar
Comments
Post a Comment