HOME | POLITICS | SPORTS | LIFE | SCI/TECH | OPEDS | HELPFUL TIPS
|
Oct 22, 2003 It takes courage to be a cancer survivor. The battery of tests, surgeries, and treatments available for a person with any type of cancer is mind boggling. And many of those treatments can be quite debilitating in and of themselves. But it also takes courage to make the decision to die of cancer when treatments are available that could prolong your life. Its taken me several years to come to grips with the death of my Dad to colon cancer. I went through all of the stages of grief, but the one I remained stuck in for far too long was the if he loved me he would have done more to stay alive the more being having a colostomy and having chemo and/or radiation. For far too long I could only think of how selfish he was for depriving his family, especially me, of his wisdom, his guidance, his sense of humor, his creativeness, his spirituality, his presence. He gave it his best effort, but I couldnt appreciate it. When he was first diagnosed ten years ago, the doctors performed surgery to remove the tumor and some surrounding tissue and indicated they were 99% sure they got it all. But...just as a precaution they recommended chemotherapy, and my Dad willingly submitted to the grueling schedule of daily treatments for one week, then three weeks of rest. He would finally start to feel somewhat normal and it would be time for another week of treatments. This went on for eight months, and during that time he never complained. Actually, he felt he was one of the lucky ones as he wasnt violently ill and didnt lose his hair. His main complaints were extreme tiredness, bloating, and gas. No one was more thrilled than Dad when those eight months were over and he slowly regained his strength. To his delight he was able to fully return to his normal activities. As the first year after he completed chemo whizzed by, then the second and third years, I was the one taking for granted that he was free of cancer and would be with us for many years to come. When he went through a spell of what we thought was the stomach flu no one was much concerned. However, the flu would not go away. Oh, he might have a week where he felt okay, but the symptoms would always come back. After several weeks, he agreed to have a colonoscopy so the doctors could see what was happening inside his colon. A cluster of tumors was discovered during testing, and the doctors agreed that surgery was the next step. However, when they discussed the fact that a colostomy would more than likely be needed and that Dad could still live a long and full life, Dad refused to sign the papers for the surgery. In his mind, nothing was worse than having to wear that bag, and until the doctors agreed that under no circumstances would they perform a colostomy, he refused surgery. Although the chances were only 50/50 that the doctors could remove all of the cancer without doing a colostomy, with their promise that they would not do the colostomy, Dad underwent surgery. His philosophy was that he was winner either way if they got it all he would have more years with us, and if they didnt get it all he was a step closer to Heaven. Ill never forget the look of sadness on the surgeons face as he told us Dad was in recovery, and although they removed a large portion of the tumors, they couldnt get them all without doing the colostomy. As youve probably guessed, the next step following the surgery was the recommendation of chemo. And if you are thinking that Dad refused chemo, you are totally right. His rationale, which in hindsight was a very logical and good one, was that if they were ninety-nine percent sure the first time that they got it all and it came back even with eight months of chemo, then why in the world would he go through it a second time knowing there was still cancer inside. Once he recuperated from the surgery, he lived for another nine months. Except for the last month of his life, he lived each day to the fullest. He played golf once a week; continued to design, make and sell jewelry; ushered at his church; attended baseball games; went fishing and thoroughly enjoyed life, never taking a single day for granted. He made sure his loved ones knew how much he loved them. Dad died at home in July of 1997 at the age of seventy-three, his immediate family members, including me, at his side, just as he wanted. Watching a loved one die is not easy and, for me, it was made even tougher knowing that there were treatment options available so he didnt have to die right then. There are many courageous people who get the treatments recommended by their doctors. It does take courage to live in these times we are living in, whether you are in perfect health or facing a serious illness. But Ive also come to the realization these few years later that Dad didnt give up and let cancer take him. It takes courage to evaluate the options and take the stand that you are going to live the days left to you without the intervention of the medical community, enjoying a quality of life without dreading the side effects of an upcoming treatment, or having to deal with the consequences of a medical procedure that at best would prolong your life a few years years that in your heart you know you couldnt live to the fullest. Although his decision ended in what I perceived at the time to be an early death, he chose life and lived in a manner that makes me proud. Proud that he stood up for what he believed in, proud that he knew himself and his body well enough to make his decision, proud that he did not fear death, proud that he felt the importance of sharing his last days with his loved ones in a positive and joyous manner, and proud to be the daughter of this remarkable, yet simple, man. I love you and respect you, Dad. ------------ Email Robin L. Rostonski: calebcat@core.com ------------ |
||||||
|
|
|||||||
|
