After long and painful conversations of denial and bargain; today we ended up in acceptance.
“I’m in deep shit” Said father “We must start talking about the end. How am I going to go through the end. With what strength? Who’s going to give me the strength?” I said nothing. “We have to start realizing there is soon an end. I mean you two should start realizing it … I don’t think I can” I said nothing. Like I said nothing a week ago when he looked at me straight in the eyes and said “ I am not afraid to die. I mean I don’t want to die. I am sad. I want to live. Life is sweet. But I would like to know if they have told you something final”
I am sitting here in this hospital room with him now. He is solving a crossword puzzle. It makes him forget for a while. I am sitting a bit behind him so he does not see I’m crying as I am typing this. He is in pain. The pills don’t work. We call the nurse every hour and she give us more medicine. And more. Ando more. HE has this expression of suffering in his face. HE looks really old and small now.
I know I never got along with my father. I was never fond of his way of thinking. I don’t think he was a person I would like to be friends with if he was not my father. But he never really hurt me. He was the best father he could be. He was not the best he should be. We were best friends when I was a child though. He was always good with children. Until I started growing up. Then I got a personality. And she did not like him that much. However, funny how when the end comes, (any type of end) one always seem to remember the good times. Unless the bad times are unforgivable. But my poor asshole dad never did anything unforgiving. He was just some dude I didn’t like much but hey, he is my dad yeah? I do not want him to die alone in a hospital. I do not want him to die in agony and pain. I do not want him to die feeling he achieved nothing in life.
We haven’t even started the chemo yet. We are going through a lot of tests to determine what sort of chemo he should take. The type, the dosage, and so on. We do not know what the end is going to be like; or how long he has. And it is all he talks about. And especially today, 7th of September 2010 at 17:00 after the doctor’s visit. He finally accepted he has cancer … and most probably … definitely … terminal.
I thought of this so much in the past; my father’s end. For some reason I cannot picture any of my loved ones old. I never could. But I always thought that it is because I am going to die young.
And I am afraid of cancer so much that I am almost sure I will die from it. I am also almost sure that all my loved ones will die from it first, just so I can see them die. And then I’ll go. So much I have thought of this scenario that I’m afraid it is happening already. It started with my Evi, then my uncle and now father.
I feel so lonely in this. Not because I don’t have anyone. But because I do not have anyone near me who has ever been through anything remotely similar. No matter how one tries … they will almost always say the wrong thing. Or just bail … People have the tendency to bail in hard times. It’s okay, you do not want this kind of people around to begin with.
Note to … well you know who you all are. If you are still smoking. Think that this entry could be something written about YOU. Maybe your kids in the future. Maybe your spouse. Maybe your siblings … your friends …
Stop smoking you fucking moron.
Father just hugged me. And with a broken crying voice he said … “The only thing that saddens me is you and your sister … I don’t want you to be sad …” And again I did not say anything. He walked to the other side of the room pretending he was looking at something and I know he was crying.
I am now crying and I can’t stop writing because I don’t want him to see me.
We both cry silently behind each other's back.
I am after all, my father's daughter.
Goddamn it …