Bonded for Life

It was just after the first of January 2009 that I called my father, Roy. He complained about his sore throat and coughing. He told me that his throat had been irritated for over a month and was getting worse. I suggested he come into town and check in with his doctor. After all he had just celebrated his 81st birthday.

A few weeks later he had an appointment with his doctor who was more than concerned about his loss of weight, which had gone from about 220 down to 209 or so. He ordered blood work.

In March, no word on my father's tests, my mother, Jean, had her 81st birthday also and this year was to be their 60th wedding anniversary. Myself, my four siblings, three sisters and the youngest a brother, dropped hints about a party to honor their sixty years but, Mom balked.

At the beginning of April the doctor told us Dad had esophageal cancer. It was a shock. His two brothers died of leukemia in the past ten years and he had been cleared of that cancer. We didn't expect this. Dad is all about eating. He loves food, and gave that wonderful gene to his daughters, who also love to eat.

He made the decision to go through with the chemo and radiation treatment over the next six weeks. In the mean time my mother relented and even encouraged us to plan a 60th Anniversary party for August.

I had Monday's off of work so I went to sit with him during his Chemo. He never had any of the usual NAH-SI-A (a longer story than I can tell here) that accompanied the treatment. I took some of that time, while he rested, to shop for theme colors and buy paper for the invitations. The envelope was a dark bronze, a sea blue for the liner and the paper with their picture was on a sand color. I printed and my sister, Kathy, helped to assemble and glue the cards as well as address them. It was based on the ocean and beach which they love.

During the entire six weeks, mother and dad's entourage (us girls) attended his treatments and his doctors appointments. Mom, right beside him, worried because she couldn't get all the cans of liquid nourishment down dad each night through his J-Tube. By the end of May the chemo and radiation treatments were done and we waited the appropriate time to have another MRI. The next meeting with the doctor we were told the esophageal tumor was still there but dried. The lymph nodes had increased double and Dry Y told us he might have three, six or at the most nine months to live. The option was surgery.

I remember that day. It was just dad and I and the doctor. He explained to us what the surgery involved. A very different description than what I thought would happen. He told us he could not give his opinion. I asked him, "If your father was sitting here in this condition, what would you tell him?" He gave his answer. My father had already made his decision, and the doctor's answer confirmed it. There would be no surgery,

Devastated, we worked hard on the plans for the 60th Anniversary as we didn't know what his condition might be by the middle of August.

We fussed and bullied him about getting all the food he needed administered, until dad just shut down. He wouldn't talk much after that June appointment.

In July, he and mother attended our annual church camp meeting and he asked to be prayed for by the ministers. We and a lot of other people prayed for his healing, or for God to take him quickly without much suffering.

That is just what happened. Mom called me the third week in July saying dad was eating food off her plate. By the next week he was feeling like eating salad (the one thing he missed eating the most) as there was no pain in his stomach or throat. Mom was excited, but we needed the doctor to confirm our faith.

The first weekend in August, we attended a family picnic for Dad's side. Mom was the first to tell me that dad ate a hot dog in a bun with all the usual condiments(no onions), along with chips and later a hamburger patty. He was happy and feeling good. By the end of August he didn't use the feeding tube and gained from 193 to about 200 pounds.

August 23, 2009 on a Sunday we all met with friends, family and extended family to celebrate their 60 years of marriage. Dad ate some of everything there including my pickled beets and bread & butter pickles.

At his monthly doctor visits we asked if he could order an MRI to see what was going on. Dr. Y gave us his best bedside smile and said at times near the end a person might feel better. We asked if "near the end" those same people with the same type of cancer were EATING full meals with no throat pain? He had no answer for that. We already knew the answer. At each visit Dr. Y said very little but watched and took blood which came back with counts that were low but higher than he would expect and the counts closer to normal than not.

In December 2009 Dr. Y fianlly ordered another MRI. When we went back to see Dr. Y, he shook his head. The lymph nodes were back to normal and the tumor was gone and all that was left was just a hard scar.

Mom smiles when he heads out in the early morning to the beach to do some clamming or takes one of the grand kids to pull the crab pots for him.

I visited them the other day and saw fresh crabs on the counter. He had the strength to pull the pots himself. Mom is happier and had even decided to go ahead with hip surgery. She will need that to keep up with her husband.

Through the death of their third daughter of cancer, many a miracle has been seen in our family. Jobs, food for a big family of seven, and needs were always met. Mom and Dad stood together, confident that their strength came from God and he would always provide. I never saw a time that didn't happen. I saw times when their personalities clashed, or dad look off with his fishing pole after some altercation or mom would take a drive leaving me in charge.

I look back over my 61 years of being their first child. As I spoke (much too long I am sure) about the things I learned from the life my parents lead before me, I can honestly say, I want their steadfast faith in God. Belief that even when you disagree with your spouse, if both of you have the same Godly background, divorce is not an option. That means compromise if you want to live happily for sixty years. I have been married for 40 years and Lord willing, we will have as many years as my parents.

December 2013 September 10, 2013 my parents celebrated their 65th wedding anniversary. In October, they decided to visit my sister who was to have hip surgery. The surgery turned out a disaster and they stayed until the first of December. Dad seemed insistent the return home and not spend Christmas there.

They stopped in St. Paul to stay with my daughter and leave the next night on the train. She took a picture of the two of them and I was shocked! I know it may have been the lighting but he looked very sick and Yellow! When he got here to Portland, they got their car and Dad DROVE the two hours to their home. I think he just wanted to be home!

He didn't look well. They got a doctor's appointment the following week and we moved their beds into my empty front room. They arrived December 19th and on the 22 even very weak he managed to marry his granddaughter.

The doctor's appointment revealed he was in stage 4 kidney failure. It seems the doctor did tell him he had kidney failure before they left, but he didn't tell us. We moved them into a little apartment and for the next two weeks he was amazing. He knew he was dying, but other than the fact he stayed in a chair you'd never know it.

Each visitor left more inspired than when they came. On January 14, 2014 he got up for visitors then asked to go back to bed. Hospice came that afternoon and told my sisters, brother and mother, get the family he won't last more than a few hours. I got the call at work. I went to pick up my brother-in-law, grabbed some hymnals and went to the apartment.

We gathered around his bed, and began to sing songs one after another. He was at peace. He didn't struggle, he didn't try to talk much at all. I arrived abut 5:25pm and he was gone at 6:15pm.

Even now when I think about wanting to call him, I just think, He's on a long vacation where I'll see him when I see him.