No good news

I’ve been avoiding this post like the plague. Like committing it to the blog makes its finite, seals my fate.  Like writing about it means there’s no turning back, and I have to face our future.  But not writing about it doesn’t change any of that. 

This week we found out that the fluid was indeed cancerous.  The cancer has spread, meaning that there is no longer a cure to my father’s illness, it’s only about treatment.

To further that, they have determined that fluid is metastatic esophageal cancer.  They had not originally thought the tumor in his rectum was a result of the esophageal cancer because of its location, it wasn’t typical of the spread of that type of cancer.  Unfortunately, it was, and that’s why it didn’t respond to the treatment he had been receiving and continued to spread.  We never had that 80% chance to beat it.  He never had any chance.

Dad’s oncologist has given him nine months to a year as a timeframe.  This is mainly so he knows to get his affairs in order.  Maybe to also make me spaz out.  Nine months may mean not another Christmas.  It may mean he won’t see his 56th birthday.  It means I will be a basketcase.  Since we’ve found out I haven’t done real well being by myself.  I curl up in bed with one of his sweaters and cry so hard I hyperventilate.  I had no idea that I could cry so hard my chest would hurt days later.  And I’ve been going through all my photos to find the ones of my Dad and the G.  I don’t think I can handle this. (And I feel so selfish for saying that.)

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About CCTgirl

Just a crazy girl taking MARTA.
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6 Responses to No good news

  1. Melly says:

    i say the following things because i know –
    there is nothing anyone can say or do that will change how impossible this is – its bigger than anything you can imagine – There will be days when you don’t know how to put your shoes on, more or less go on with life – but you are stronger than you think you are – your stronger than you ever could imagine to be.

    this has been the biggest fear from day one – the one thing you won’t address because it just CAN’T HAPPEN, but now, it is what it is, and you will get through

    Take time – don’t be afraid/ashamed/upset if you laugh, or cry, or lash out.
    its hard – we cry because its just not fair – this isn’t the way its supposed to go – and alot of people just don’t understand – empathy and sympathy aren’t always conveyed correctly…

    but you have the wisdom to know what you have to do – and its ok to not know how to do this –
    don’t focus on what you might not have – doing that will only make what you do have MISERABLE –

    so do what you want, say what you need to, and enjoy life – this will change you, but i know it will make you better, and stronger

  2. Ashley says:

    I’m so sorry this is the news. I’ve been there. Your reactions are completely normal. And somehow, you will get through it. That doesn’t mean it will be easy, but you will be able to do it. I know because I’ve done it, even when it seemed impossible.

    My thoughts are with you and your family.

  3. Tine says:

    Hi. I love you. I can’t do anything else, but I can cry with you. Call me anytime.

  4. Jenny says:

    I just commented on your post from today (2/14) but then I read this one. I am so sorry Ashley. I know that there’s nothing that I can say or do to make this any easier. All I can do is be here for you, please know that I am. I’m very sorry that I wasn’t coming up for air long enough to realize earlier that you had gotten this horrible news. I’m always up for a midnight phone call.

  5. Tamara says:

    I was directed to your blog by a friend of my late husband’s. We lost him to EC a year ago on MLK day. He was 46.

    I could give you my perspective but Melly summed it up beautifully. You never know how strong you can be until you have no other choice.

    You will make it through,
    Tamara

    Decatur, GA

  6. Debbie says:

    Ashley, we’ve just shared lunch together, and I’m glad you looked so well, and rested. No tell-tale bruising around the eyes from all the exhausting tears. Once again my cheeks are wet as I sigh and remember how it probably feels right now. Of course you will get THROUGH this, but it will take much longer to get over it. But God does give us the strength, and we do move along and absorb the sadness and grief. You are doing everything you should be doing. And no regrets. No guilt. You’re a wonderful daughter. No wonder your Dad is holding on so tightly. Love you.

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