My father is having a biopsy tomorrow on a growth on his voice box. He’s smoked something like three packs a day for years, so I don’t know that any of us expect good news from this. I mean, I know, until the results are in there are no definites.
Then I was laying in bed tonight (before I decided I couldn’t sleep) and I remembered his mother dying in October 1998 - sometime at the end of the month, the 28th or 29th, I think, because I was training for my new position. She had burned herself while cooking, but went reacted to the anesthesia during a skin graft and died.
They’re putting my father under tomorrow for the biopsy. That scares me. All of a sudden I had this image of coming home from class to a message on my machine saying that I need to come home immediately.
I’ve never really considered the idea that either one of my parents wouldn’t really be there - the idea of them not being there was some far off future event. But now I’m really scared that it’s not so far off. And it’s terrifying me to no end.
Crap. I know, I know. Chances are he will come out of the biopsy tomorrow fine - and the biopsy results will be what they area and will be dealt with from there. But I’m still scared.
I wish there was something I could say that would make things better for you now . But there isn’t All I can do is say that I will think of you and your family and dad tomorrow, and I can say a prayer too. Let us know how things go, will you?
Please talk to your dad’s doctor about your concerns, as its extremely unlikely that the anaesthetic procedure (if any) for the biopsy is the same as that for skin grafts.
For your own medical welfare and that of your family, at some point you might want to find out what happened with your grandmother’s anaesthesia and whether those circumstances have any potential impact on yourself or other family members in the future.
Wishing you and your family positive outcomes tomorrow.
My mother has been suffering–badly–from myelofibrosis for about 12 years now. It took about five years, and several trips to the Mayo Clinic, for the docs to even figure out what was wrong, why she was always tired, had low red-blood-cell counts, and so on.
Anyway, starting about 1990, I spent five or six years jumping every time the phone rang because I thought it meant Mom was dead. I played it cool and didn’t tell anyone, but I was horribly worried, all the time. And what I finally had to do was cut myself free from it and realize that Mom didn’t WANT me to live a life of horrible apprehension. What makes her happy (she’s still with us, and still happy and funny and wonderful) is when I call her up and say, “Mom, I got this award,” or “Mom, my dog did this funny thing,” or “Mom, how do I make a pot roast?”
In short, I make sure that Mom knows I have a life, because it’s the details of it that make her happy; they let her know I’m actively engaged with my surroundings, and spreading the sense of humor I got from her, and generally taking my pale imitation of her greatness into the world.
This got a little hijacked; sorry about that. Lsura, keep them in your life, and keep them informed on what you’re doing; they want to know.
I know how you feel, Lsura; my father’s going in for prostate surgery in a week or two. I mean, he says the cancer hasn’t spread beyond there, and he’s getting worked on by one of the best, but it’s impossible not to worry.
All my best wishes to you and your family, Lsura. I’ll be thinking of you.
I tried to post earlier, but it was around noon and I kept getting timed out. Not wanting to quadruple post, I waited.
Anyway, I don’t know anything as yet - Mom said she’d call tonight or tomorrow evening, as she also had a doctor’s appointment today (she broke her wrist pretty badly about a month ago) along with parent-teacher conferences at work, though she was considering skipping them, depending on how things went.
I got over my middle of the night panic, although I’m still worried, it’s not the desperation worried that I was in last night. What’s there is what’s there, and will be faced/dealt with if necessary.
So, I should know tomorrow. And then what needs to happen will happen, one way or another.
I know that feeling. When I was a child, my mother was often sick, often hospitalized. My father was always healthy, always took good care of himself. He got lung cancer (he didn’t smoke) and he died. It’s funny - I’d always expected him to outlive my mother, but 2 cancers (uterine and breast), a mastectomy, an aorta replacement, open heart surgery, multiple drug allergic reactions and she’s still going strong.
The one that got me was one of my cousins dying two years ago of a failed liver transplant. He’s the first of my generation to die. I have 42 first cousins, but still, the loss was hard.
Lsura, please know you and your family are in my thoughts. This is not an easy situation. I’m in the same position as well.
Take care.
LindyHopper, my father had prostate cancer about 10 years ago. The surgery went well and he didn’t have problems afterward. Sending good vibes your way as well.
Well, it’s about what we expected. The growth is malignant, but they think it’s been caught fairly early. So they’re going to try radiation first, and only surgery if radiation doesn’t work.
Just wanted to suggest that you make a point of spending as much time as possible with your parents. Maybe even “interview” them on tape. Tell - and show - them how much you love and respect them.
Cancer can be a bitch. And fast. And when they are taken from you, it is too late.
Losing your parents is tough. Becoming an orphan. But you have to realize that every parent wishes to predecease their children. Spend whatever time you have left creating memories that will long outlive them.