Last month my Dad, who had been traveling around for a couple of years in his motorhome, told me he’d had a little mini-stroke and was in the hospital for a day or so, but he said he was fine. He also apparenty had an ulcer, but they’d treated that as well. I talked to him a few times over the last month or so and he seemed fine–said he was a little tired and his leg hurt, and he was going to go see the doctor about it.
Next thing I know, my cousin is calling me to tell me he’s in the hospital. That was last week. Apparently they found a tumor in his stomach. Yikes. I couldn’t get down there yet due to work (I live about 5 hours away) but I called him every day. He stayed overnight in the hospital and came home. I asked him if he wanted me to come down, and said I could come next week unless he wanted me there sooner. He said no, he was fine, and next week is good.
Then my cousin calls me again on Saturday–apparently he’s had another incident of weakness/dizziness and he was in the hospital again. I got different stories from my aunt (who’s now at the house) and my dad’s friend (who tends to be alarmist) implying that I’d better get down there right away. So I pack up and head down on Sunday. He’s supposed to get a PET scan, but that’s an outpatient procedure and they won’t release him because he’s still bleeding and getting blood (which was fine–he felt lousy and didn’t want to go anyway).
Anyway, long story short, they did a CAT scan today and he’s got stomach cancer (they knew that) but it’s pretty far along and it’s spread. The blood they’re giving him is barely keeping ahead of the bleeding, and surgery really isn’t an option. Depending on how he fares (he doesn’t want them to keep giving him blood, since it’s just staving off the inevitable), he’s got anywhere from a few days to a few weeks left.
Yikes.
I’m an only child. I knew this was coming, but you never expect it. Before long I’m going to have to deal with losing my dad, selling his house and motorhome, handling arrangements, cleaning out a house that’s got accumulations of stuff since 1961, and generally just handing the situation. My aunt and cousin and Dad’s friends are helping, but ultimately it’s going to fall to me. And I really have no idea what I’m doing.
I’m staying down here until the end of the week, and then I need to go back home. His care team is going to find a facility for him to stay in since he can’t be home on his own and none of the relatives are local or able to provide that kind of care. The doctor on the palliative care team told me it was best to stay for a while now (I was originally going to head back tomorrow when I didn’t know it was this serious) than to hang around at the end. He said there was no reason to feel guilty about that, but I still do.
I had to do something similar with my mom two years ago, but I didn’t have the responsibility then, since my dad was there to handle it. This time it’s all me. And that scares the hell out of me. Any advice from folks who’ve dealt with this (especially from a distance) would be appreciated.