Life, eh? in Diary

I finally moved out. Eli randomly got a Saturday off and we used it to go look at houses. We had no paperwork together or no intention of actually finding a place. Out of the 7 or 8 we looked at there was one that stood out and we ended up applying for it on Monday night after we'd gotten out papers together. From what I'd heard and seen, rentals in Sydney had a pretty quick lock-it-in turnaround so when I hadnt heard anything by 3pm on the Tuesday I didnt think we'd have it but was optimistic that we'd be ready for the next one we really liked. But I got a phone call before 4pm asking if we were still interested and that it was down to us and one other applicant and that the others only had one up on us because they could move in straight away but they could be lenient with us if we could move in before the start of July. So we moved in last weekend - 10 days after getting approved.

The next night, after getting approved, my world came crashing down. The Friday before my Dad had been admitted to hospital. He's been unwell for months and test after test only revealed that he had Ross River Fever. There is no cure for Ross River and you kind of just have to ride it out. It explained the headaches and fatigue but that was about it. Months after that diagnosis he was still convinced something was wrong. His mate took him to an ENT on the Friday and apparently the guy was a complete jerk and basically told him he was stressed and had "wheat belly" and that he should go home and have a hot epsom salt bath.

The hot bath made him collapse and Mum had to call an ambulance because he couldnt get up. His blood pressure wouldnt rise when the ambos got there and they took him to hospital. He was admitted with dehyrdration and low blood pressure and later on they also found out his stomach was bleeding from all the constant pain killers he was taking because that was what the doctors had told him to do to alleviate the pain from the headaches. 3 months worth of painkillers every 4 hours? Seriously? Thats a treatment plan? Pretty sure it says on the packet not to take for more than a week or something, but no, that was what they told him to do.

Anyway, they kept him over the weekend because they wanted to do some more tests that they couldnt do on the weekend. One of which was an endoscopy. He was booked in to get one before he collapsed but it wasnt until the end of July. Mum called me Tuesday night to let me know they'd found an ulcer but not to be concerned. However, when you can hear you Mum trying not to lead on that she's about to cry, you kind of get concerned. The next night, Wednesday night, she called me to tell me that Dad has oesophegeal cancer.

At first, yeah its shocking to hear, I burst into tears but then we kept talking and Mum changed the subject and it stopped. Then when the words actually came out of my mouth to tell my roommates I burst into tears again. But then it went away. Cancer is scary but most of the stories you hear about are usually ones of survival. They find it, they cut it out, bit of chemo and rehab and then you're all good. Mum told me they found it early and not to be worried - which she always does.

My sister, who still lives with them, messaged me the next morning to see if I was okay and also told me that Dad couldnt look at any of us without crying. I immediately thought I wasnt being given the full story. I went to work that day but I spent most of the day crying at random, thinking about how much I need/want him to be around for a lot longer. I want to give him grandchildren and I want him to see me get married. One of my biggest wishes in life is to have my Dad walk me down the aisle. The thought of him not being around for that kills me. Even now I cant write this without breaking down which is why its taken me so long to write about this.

I took the next day off and went to go stay with Mum and Dad for the weekend. And just like Danielle had said, Dad hugged me and he burst into tears. I've only seen Dad that emotional when his brothers have passed away. It broke my heart then and it broke my heart even more in that hug.

He went on to tell me about the surgery he'll need to not just cut the cancer out but to cut out a third of his oesophagus and a third of his stomach. He also told me he wished it wasnt so big.

From what I managed to read about the cancer before going to visit I'd learned that its an agressive cancer and that its difficult to find it early because symptoms start when the cancer is already quite big. I shut off and couldnt read much. Even when I got to Mum and Dad's place I tried to read his medical reports but my eyes would fill up after reading 10 words.

He went for a PET scan shortly after I got there to see if the cancer had spread. Mum dropped him off for the test and then met me at a lawyer's office so I could sign power of attorney papers and then we went for coffee to kill time before she went to pick him up. The more I asked about it and the more information I got, the more emotional I became and for the first time in years I saw Mum cry too. It was a hard and morbid weekend. I didnt want to be different around Dad but you just cant help it. You want to know how he is or how he's doing or what he's been doing but all he's been able to do is sleep. He cant eat big meals, he cant drink beer, he gets tired easily and he cant do much because of it. It frustrates him and he's depressed because of it. Everytime he brought up his own death it was just so much harder to deal with.

Luckily the PET scan came back with results that said the cancer hadnt spread which is probably the best news so far. We'd hoped it would make him more positive but he still talks like chemo and surgery is just delaying the inevitable. Mum took him out last weekend to buy a new couch and he kept saying things like he wanted everything to be in order for her when he dies. I want to be stern with him and tell him that if the shoe was on the other foot and any of us were sick and talking like that, he'd tell us to cut it out, but I can just see myself breaking down when I'm meant to be perceiving myself as strongwilled. Time to put the big girl pants on. He starts chemo on the 15th. 3 rounds over 9 weeks. One treatment every 3 weeks and then surgery.

He came down with Mum today to see the new place and we all went out for lunch. He's lost a lot of weight but he seemed in better spirits and only one half joke about his death. However during lunch he became a bit withdrawn - probably because we kept offering small bits of our lunch and he was at a pub and couldnt have a beer, but you could also tell that he was getting tired. Its just hard to see him not so... lively like he always is and its hard to think that he may never be the same again - even if he does get through all of this.

He had to have surgery last night to have a stent put in his oesaphagus because he cant keep food down anymore. Its funny... I formulate conversations in my head about telling him that this is going to be harder before its easier and the moment I get bad news, I'm a mess. How do you stay strong for someone when you're breaking on the inside as well? I cant even get through writing about the thought without crying. I knew cancer sucked but now its a whole other level of just how shit the disease is. I'm so worried about Mum too. He is her life. Her social life is with him. Her career is with him. She doesnt have any relatives living in the same state as her and she doesnt have 'girlfriends' that she goes out with and catches up with. He needs to fight this for her. I dont want to think about her having to live alone in that massive house or finding a new smaller place where she has no memories with him. I dont even want to think about it but it crosses your mind. And then you wonder if its crossed her mind and how much this is hurting her as well.

On a happier note... I am so happy in my new home. I feel like I'm seeing a totally different side of Eli and even of myself. I feel like this is going to bring us so much closer. I think he's happier too. Even if its just to have a kitchen again. The kitchen at his old place was so small and cluttered you couldnt do anything in there. He gets up earlier and makes his lunch every morning now and he's in the kitchen now cooking up a chilli con carne. And he's nowhere near as messy as he was at the old place too. I'm a lot more calmer about messy areas too which is a nice change. I guess its different when its just yours and not three other people being careless and lazy.

I'm about to post this entry from my house too. Internet at home for the first time in a year. Which means I'll hopefully be updating more.

Anyway.... yeah. Life, eh?