Hello. I've missed you.

Just checked in with all my cancer surviving buddies on their sites and it felt good to be back in the loop with the people who got me through my Hodge. They are now and forever a part of my life. And so I was feeling guilty about not posting on mine. My apologies. It's because (and read with a sarcastic tone) everything is going so well and even-keel. Ha, not really. I've actually been very wrapped up in my father's illness as well as keeping up with my day to day stuff. I can't count how many times something happens quickly that I say to myself, "Oh, I've got to remember that one for the blog". Do I remember? Not everything, but I'll do my best.

My father's condition has deteriorated over the last three weeks. He was in a convalescent home after his feet started spurting blood from wounds and they couldn't stop it. Nurses finally did, but his feet are continuing to weep which he says is like sweating. His legs are swollen, presumably from cancerous lymph nodes pushing against his veins and messing up his circulation. His oncologist saw him and put him on a pill form of chemotherapy right away. She said the pill form has the mildest side effects and at the time his potassium levels were showing high which made her worry about his kidney function; therefore, IV chemo would be too potent. She didn't even have his CT scan on the 29th done with contrast because of possible deteriorating kidneys and thus she got back a sub-optimal picture. She said she will be reviewing it with a radiologist to see if there is one spot that is worse. In that case, radiation to that spot might be beneficial for immediate relief. His potassium levels have gotten better in the meantime so his kidneys are okay. The oncologist said his leukemia has spread to lymph nodes (duh) and into organs like the liver. It will not be going away, so the best we can hope for is to curb it enough to make him more comfortable. Dad says the pill is making him extremely fatigued. All he wants is a cigarette and a drink. No doubt he is suffering as much from withdrawal as from cancer.

We are three weeks from going on a scheduled visit to see him in California. It has been very hard gathering facts from 3000 miles away. Dad has never been a great communicator. He's always wanted to be left alone and will say what you want to hear just so you will leave him alone, and Gladys, his companion, is beside herself as her daughter in Texas is also battling cancer. I speak to her but can't get real facts from her and don't trust her impressions to be objective. He is in the hospital now, but I expect he'll be transfered to a nursing home which is where he'll be when we arrive. I dread seeing him so skinny and bloated, but I will be glad to be there to help. I find myself on the other side as the helpless relative who just wants to do something, and I need to go back and remember the things that my friends and family did that were helpful for me. As soon as he is in a single place for awhile, I must send a care package to let him know I am thinking of him and am there for him.

That's all I got right now. I'm spent. So, before another week goes by with my good intentions of "finishing" this post, let me post what I have.