3 days before my 32nd birthday, my father passed away. He was 73.
It wasn't exactly a surprise. My father had never taken very good care of himself and the older he got the more apparent the toll on his health it had taken. The past year he'd been suffering with congestive heart failure and had all but refused treatment. He seemed terrified that his next trip under the knife would be his last and his prediction was not wrong.
On May 7th, after being in and out of the hospital with stomach pains, he finally agreed to the gallbladder removal surgery the docs had been after him to get for months. I live about 4 hours way from my parents and I asked my mother if I should come down for the surgery but she said no. The doctors didn't think it was that big of deal and were sure he would be fine.
So I didn't go because, ladies and gentlemen, my whole life my father has been like a cat. He's been in motorcycle accidents and explosions. He's ruptured arteries and nearly bled out more times than I can count. It seems since I was a little girl, every couple of years something crazy happens to my dad and I end up at the hospital telling him goodbye as he goes into surgery because the docs just aren't sure if he'll make it out of not. But every time dad has, not only survived, but sprung back with gusto. I can't tell you how many doctors I've heard marvel at how quickly dad heals and how much progress he's made so quickly. So when mom said that the doctors weren't concerned I figured things would be ok.
But when they opened up my father what they found was not a gallbladder in need of removal but a gut full of Cancer. His liver, pancreas, everything was just riddled with tumors.
The next morning I started getting texts from my sister. She had gone down the night before. She tends to be a little jumpier than I am when it comes to Dad's health, so she went ahead and took a few days off to be with him. At 1st her text we're a little confusing. She was asking about fax numbers for my HR department so the doctors could send documentation and I was like, "what are you getting at? Do I need to come down right away?"
She seemed very hesitant to actually say it but as the morning went on my father health began to decline rapidly and her text became more urgent. Finally, at 11am, I decided it was time to go.
My phone rang as I was running down the steps to my car. My sister told me she thought dad should hear my voice. Suddenly the seriousness of everything hit me like a ton of bricks. Dad couldn't talk but I told him I loved him and not to be scared and that I was on my way and he was going to be ok.
The whole way home I tried to call my husband but as he worked nights he was still sleeping. I kept hoping he's hear the phone and get up but no luck. My mind was going so crazy I didn't know what to do accept hit redial over and over again. When I got home I tried not to start screaming but I knew we had a matter of hours and I wanted to get on the road ASAP. I was nervous that my husband wouldn't be able to get out of work and come with me but he assured me he was coming with me no matter what.
