In the pleasant expression of the medical community, dad_mcl’s treatment has moved into the palliative phase.
Two weeks ago he seemed to be doing better after the drain was installed and the pressure on the brain (which had caused the seizures) was being reduced. So we had the surgery for the shunt (to have the drain permanently redirected into his abdomen).
Unfortunately, after the shunt. he had a setback from which he hasn’t recovered. He was no longer as alert or active. It was apparently due to a sodium imbalance in his system, and he got stabilized, but it was nowhere near where it had been.
Furthermore, the CAT scan we did yesterday shows that the tumour has spread.
The palliative care doctor estimates that it won’t be more than two weeks; and even that seems optimistic. We can see his consciousness ebbing. He still appears to be awake, and slightly responsive. But we have no idea how long that will last. He’s expected to go into a coma in the next few days, and the next step after that is death.
We’re saying goodbye. I said it today. I told him that I’d reconciled the difficulties the two of us had had during my childhood and my teenage years, and that I understood how hard it had been to raise me and how much he wanted me to be a strong and good person.
I told him what how much I had always admired his relationship with Mom, and all the good work he’s done in his journalism career, telling stories that wouldn’t get told, looking deeper, always striving to do justice and speak truth; and, now that I’m an adult, how much those things are inspiring me and serving as role models in my own life. If I’m able to have a good relationship with Potter, and to walk a path of social justice and responsibility, it’s due in large part to what I’ve learned from him.
Then I started from the room in tears.
We’ll have to be in the hospital as much as possible for the last part of his consciousness, but we also need to make arrangements for the funeral and interment, which we’ve been discussing in the family.
In an awful way, there’s a certain amount of comfort in knowing that there’s no further “desperate hope;” no further thing we’re going to try and hope for the best from and be disappointed by. All that’s left is to let go, as peacefully as we can, and grieve.
I would like to thank everyone who’s expressed such great kindness to me and my family in the other two threads. I know my family’s been startled and impressed by the warmth of this community; knowing it somewhat better, I’m impressed, but not startled. Thank you all.