Our Gentle Doctor

My Dad received all of his care, from one hospital. Different locations. Many doctors. More nurses, than I can sit and talk about. But one hospital. It was the best decision, we could have ever made.

Not only did it make it easier for us. It kept all of my Dad's doctors, on the same page. Everyone had access, to everything, all the time. If we were in the hospital, our doctors were very easy, to get in touch with. All our care, came from the same place. Including, our Homecare.

Along the way, you meet different people. In the Presbyterian organization, they work so well, as a team. Working together, for the patient. Mapping out, how your care will look. Taking every person's opinion, into consideration. And it works really well.

In the Fall of 2014, my Dad was scheduled to potentially have his stoma reversed. Chemo, was making him a little too weak, for the doctors liking. So there was a break, that was taken, halfway through his scheduled 16 treatments.

During this time, he'd receive radiation. And we heard all sorts of horror stories. But my Dad was optimistic. As always. He was ready, to attack this beast, growing inside him. We had an appointment, with the radiation team. And that is where we'd meet Dr. Garg.

An amazingly kind soul. His staff was truly, some of the kindest, that I've ever met! They made us feel so comfortable. And if you've ever had to have radiation, you know the initial appointment, can be rather lengthy.

We went in. The nurses were so kind, and helpful. Explaining everything in great detail. Allowing me, to help as much as possible. They knew, my Dad was most comfortable, when I was with him. After I'd help them, to get him settled in, another nurse, would walk me back to a conference room. Where I could wait. In comfort. With something to drink, and snack on.

I'd meet Dr. Garg first. While my Dad was being "marked" for his treatments. He'd explain to me, what was going to happen. What our schedule would look like. What I could expect. What I should look for, in terms of side effects. And assured me, he'd be right by our sides, the entire time.

Then he'd meet with my Dad and I. And explain everything, in great detail. Making sure, my Dad understood, everything he was saying. Talking to him, and reassuring him. He sat right in front of my Dad, held his hands, and assured him it was going to be OK.

Radiation, was very beneficial to my Dad. He didn't have any side effects. Nothing that they'd warned us about. Or anything we'd heard, from other patients. Dr. Garg, kept his word. And would be by our sides, the entire time. I don't think, there was ever a treatment, where he didn't come and talk to me. To let me know, how things were going.

My Dad was rather weak. By Fall 2014, he'd been through so much. And to go to his doctors' appointments, we'd take his wheelchair. I'd help him, to undress, and put on his hospital gown, before every treatment. The nurses would bring my Dad coffee. And once they'd taken him back, for his treatment, they'd come make sure I was OK.

It really made the entire experience, a positive one. But Dr. Garg, would be the one, that would bring us comfort. He'd talk us through, our entire treatment schedule. He'd answer all of our questions. He'd give me updates. Without me, having to track him down. He would bring me, the information, I'd need to know.

At my Dad's last appointment, he'd have a seizure. The staff was amazing! Dr. Garg, was right there, by our sides. Assuring me, that my Dad was OK. Which I knew. He'd had seizures, all my life. But Dr. Garg, wouldn't leave our side. He'd want to call an ambulance. So we could transport my Dad, from the Radiation Center, to the main hospital. I'd assure him, it would be best, if I'd take my Dad. He would be very disoriented, from the seizure. And would need me, by his side, when he started to "wake up" from the fog.

Dr. Garg, and 2 of his nurses, helped me get my Dad into our van. They'd secure him. And they'd get my cell phone number. Sure enough, they'd call ahead to the hospital for me. And they'd check in, with me, multiple times that afternoon. I'd receive a call from Dr. Garg, that evening, making sure we were OK. He knew, what he was reading from the charts. But he wanted to make sure we were OK. That we were receiving the care, that we should.

It was amazing! Months later, in February 2015, Dr. Garg would be the oncologist working at the hospital. On the weekend of my Dad's birthday. He would do everything he could, to make sure my Dad was comfortable. That we had everything we needed. And after talking to him, about a Surprise Birthday party, I had planned...he assured me, my Dad would be able to attend.

Dr. Garg, was just one of those doctors, that made you feel comfortable. He explained every single detail, to you. And always asked, if we had questions. When he could, he'd make things easier for us. Trying to provide our family, with everything we needed. At the very moment, we needed it.

And the amount of care, respect, and tenderness...that he showed my Dad. It is the thing, I will never forget. We were very blessed, with our medical team. And it's doctors, like Dr. Garg, that made the experience a little easier. We knew, we had a team behind us. And that no matter what, they were fighting for my Dad. To extend his life. To provide comfort. And to make sure, we were all OK.

I'm very grateful to Dr. Garg. And the care he provided. Not just the medical care. But the personal care, he gave my Dad. Even on my Dad's roughest days, he was an amazing doctor. Knowing, that it was the pain, and not my Dad...that was taking over. Thank You Dr. Garg! From the bottom of my heart. My family, appreciates everything you did for my Dad! ❤❤❤

Don't Forget To Have Fun

Some of the first advice, we ever received, was to have fun. Make time, each week, and have fun. Sounds crazy, when you find out, your loved one is now battling cancer. Stage 4 cancer. But it really was, some of the best advice.

The first oncologist, that we'd meet, would tell us this. He was almost 100% sure, my Dad had cancer. He read his entire medical history, and told me, he was certain. But we'd need a few tests. He also told me, if we had a fighting chance, we couldn't stop having fun. We needed to live life. It would make the battle, worth it in the end.

When those words, come out of your doctors mouth, your not sure what to think. Wait. "Did you say cancer? You want us to have fun? Enjoy life?" It all seems like a blur. Like you are in a bad dream. Maybe you misheard.

But it is the harsh reality. And in all the chaos, that followed my Dad's diagnosis, those were the words I'd remember. So would my Dad. And we'd try to steal those moments. From the cancer. To just enjoy life. To forget about our troubles. And just smile.

It is not always easy. Not when you have doctors' appointments daily. Have nurses coming to your home, 3 or 4 times a week. And don't necessarily feel great. But you have to make the time, to unwind. To enjoy life. To be happy, even for a few minutes.

It's not easy. It was never easy. Ever! Not when life kept kicking us down. But that is when life really begins. When you are taken to the edge, of your comfort zone, and realize what really matters.

In the few days, between my Dad's diagnosis and his surgery, we lived. My Dad wanted to be out and about. So between doctors' appointments, tests, and prep...we would go to the casino, out to dinner, and to his favorite places in town. We'd live.

We were all scared. Nervous. And halfway hoping, this was a dream. But he remembered those words. Go out and have fun. Enjoy life. Don't forget to live. We did it all!

In the weeks that would follow my Dad's surgery, there would be more appointments. More tests. And eventually chemo. But we'd remember to live. And I'm so glad we did! Every other week, was a chemo week. It was also summer. During chemo week, we fought this beast. Head on! Chemo one day. Going home with the pump for two days. Back to have it disconnected. Then we'd go in for hydration, and iron pushes. It would make for a long, and draining week.

It was a grueling schedule. We were limited to activities on chemo day. Mostly because our entire appointment, was nearly 12 hours. Sometimes longer. It just depended. And then, we were not allowed to do anything after, but go home. My Dad was just too "high risk."

But on the days of disconnect, it was an all day affair. My Dad would want to go out. To a late lunch. We'd spend 3 or 4 hours, at Furr's. Enjoying a meal. Talking. Laughing. To anyone watching, they would have no clue, we were fighting for his life.

Every single weekend, and our "off week," were dedicated to living. Having fun. Doing the things, we all enjoyed. Going out to eat, visiting friends, going on road trips, having fun at the casino, just enjoying each others' company. Honestly, we were living by the seat of our pants. It wasn't unusual, to spend 3 hours in a restaurant. Or 8 hours in the casino. Or to wake up in the morning, and decide, we were hitting the road.

Many people, thought we were crazy. We were doing too much. Putting my Dad, through too much. But it's what he wanted. Looking back, I'm positive that he knew, we didn't have much time. And he wanted to fill our time, with love, happiness, and so many memories!
There were countless hours, spent in Old Town. Listening to music. Eating ice cream. And just "being." There were so many, of those "toothy grins." That I miss so much, now. Rarely, did we sleep in. There was just too much life, to live.

My Dad, would later tell me these words. And he made me promise him, never to forget them. To live by them. You see, my Dad worked his entire life. He owned a business, for 45 years. And never retired. He worked hard. So incredibly hard! From 3AM-10PM, daily. He did so much. For so many.

But along the way, he didn't take the time, to really enjoy life. To really enjoy, the fruits of his labor. To really live life. In the last few months of his life, we'd do just that. As much as we could. Whenever we could. For as long, as we could.

We'd steal moments, out of the day. Go and sit at McDonald's, and just be. My Dad would enjoy coffee, chicken nuggets, and a pie. Once in a while, he'd cheat...and have a root beer. Maybe an ice cream. We'd sit and talk for hours. He never really wanted people to know, where we would disappear to. He'd lie to my siblings. And we'd just go and talk.

For sure at this point, I know now, that he knew. He knew his time was limited. That there wasn't much time left, for making memories. For telling his stories. For having fun. Or being my best friend. For being my Daddy.

But the time we had, we enjoyed. Going for long walks, at the old K-Mart building. Sitting inside Ross, and talking. For hours. On the chairs they were selling. Bless those workers' hearts, for letting us do it. We'd go to Sonic, and pick up a strawberry milkshake, for my Dad. Then head to the park. And sit and talk. Sometimes, head to a store, that my Dad had never been to. Look at every single thing. Enjoy a trip to Wal-Mart. To pick up his snacks.

It didn't matter what we did. We tried to have fun. Even if it was at Walgreen's, and we had to wait 2 hours for his prescriptions. We'd look around. Talk. And maybe share a candy bar. Because life was precious. Our time was limited. And we had a lifetime of memories, to create, in a few short months.

I look at these months, as being the most important of my 32 years. I learned so much about my Dad. So much more, than I had already known. So much, about how he wanted to be remembered. What was really important to him. And what his biggest regrets in life, really were. In the end, we had fun. And we ALWAYS carried those words, from our doctor, in our hearts.

In the battle, against cancer, fun is not a word you hear often. It's something, you probably don't want to think of. You can't imagine, how to have fun. How to smile again. How to forget about those 6 letters...that sent your blood cold.

But it's the thing, that is going to carry you along. On the bad days. When you are unable, to move forward. When maybe, the sickness is taking over. Or unfortunately, you can see the end. Those fun days, are going to carry you, when you don't think you can go any further. They will give you the strength, that you need, to move forward.

Even in the hospital, don't forget to have fun. I'd talk to our nurses. And when my Dad, was feeling OK, we'd go on some adventure. The nurses would help me, get him in a wheelchair. And we'd go. Sometimes to look at the Gift Shop. To buy a magazine, look around, or pick up an ice cream. Maybe down to the cafeteria, for a sweet treat. Perhaps to the Chapel, to pray. Or the Family Room, to watch TV. Maybe if it was a really good day, to the Courtyard, outside. To get some fresh air.

But we never forgot, to have fun. To make memories. To steal a fun moment, from the cancer. Even when my Dad was so sick, he couldn't eat, we'd have fun. We'd stay up late, watching movies. In our hospital room. Or talking. Maybe we'd watch some old WWE matches, on my computer.

And later, when movies and TV, didn't interest my Dad. We'd take him a radio. To the hospital. And the two of us, would enjoy music. Dance around. Be goofy. Everyone knew, we were the "party room." We worked hard, against his cancer. But we tried to enjoy, as much life, as we could.

Honestly, as I look back, it gave my Dad strength. It helped him, battle cancer. It made his life, worth living. He didn't care what people thought. Not anymore. He didn't care, how his family looked at him. Or his co-workers. He'd tell me, "What are they going to do? I know where I'm headed. Let's just keep everything on track. It will take care of itself. I have 82 years worth of fun, to live."

And he really looked at life, like this. In his last 3 months. It was "bonus" time for him. He'd battled so much. Cheated death. And it was his time, to enjoy. To really, live life. It's unfortunate, that it took 82 years, to get there. But he enjoyed, those last few months.

My Dad, nor I, cared what people thought. We became best friends, with our local McDonald's workers. They knew what we had, before we walked through the doors. Nurses knew, to have a cup of coffee, waiting for my Dad. With a warm blanket. And maybe a snack.

They all knew, that we'd take goofy pictures. Maybe sing, in the middle of chemo. There was ALWAYS food. And a ton of laughs. Because we had a life, to live. Not every single day was great, or even good, but we made the best out of them.

Even if it was, just the little things. Watching WWE wrestling, enjoying coffee and pie, or just a chat. A heartfelt chat. To tell me, whatever needed to be said. History, stories, or my Dad's final wishes. We did it all, in those final months.

This is something I've thought, my entire life. Objects don't bring happiness. It's appreciating and valuing, what we have, that brings happiness. I could have been bitter. As the caregiver. As the daughter, who was losing her Dad. As the young woman, that would soon, have her world turned upside down.

But that's not the point. It wasn't what my Dad, had taught me. Not so much through words, but through his actions. To value what we had. Our relationship. The memories we were making. The history we had made. No one, could take those away. Or change them. They were mine. And his.

And no matter how unfair, cancer can be, it's up to us...to see the "bright moments," that life gives us. To take advantage, of those few precious moments, to enjoy life. To forget about cancer. To live. And make memories. Most importantly, to spend time with our loved ones.

 

At the time, I didn't realize, just how those ordinary days...would come to mean so much. The little things. The "toothy grins." The shared conversation. Trying out 20 different chairs, in the middle of Ross. Sharing chicken nuggets. Or enjoying a milkshake.

They were ordinary days. Doing ordinary tasks. Trying to get my Dad, to forget just for a second, that he was in his last few days. We didn't go out, to make memories. We went out, to have fun. To enjoy life. And the memories were made. Without much thought. We just made them.

And for anyone that is facing this same circumstance, I'd say these words. "Go out, and have fun. It doesn't have to be some great adventure. Or expensive trip. You don't have to set out, to make wonderful memories. You just need to enjoy life. Enjoy your loved one. The memories, will make themselves. Do the little things. In the end, those are the memories, that will mean the most. The ones, that you will look back, with so much love. The ones, that you will carry in your heart, forever! Don't forget to have fun!" ❤❤❤

Stay In Touch

I talked about this yesterday. Stay in touch, with your medical team. It's probably my greatest tip. Whether you or your loved one, is no longer in need of treatment. It becomes vital.

To be honest, they are the ones I turned to most, in the days following my Dad's death. They pointed me in the direction of survivors' groups. And other cancer resources. As I fight to get my own colonoscopy, they are standing behind me.

We had an incredible oncologist! He fought so much, for my Dad's treatment. And I will be forever be grateful, to him. He made many personal calls, to the insurance company, hospital, and other agencies. Whenever we needed something, he was there to fight for us.

I think about this a lot. Now. In the aftermath. I've called Dr. T, a few times. He's written referrals for me. And in the end, told me to call him, as soon as I got insurance. He's on my side. And it feels pretty awesome! I'm not in this game, alone. I can lean on him. And depend on this doctor, that on first meeting...I thought was a little crazy.

It doesn't matter, that my Dad is no longer being treated. His doctors, are still supporting us. Making sure, that we are OK. That we, are getting, what we need. I've had a few calls, from various, hospital staff. Even 11 months later. To make sure we are OK.

Maybe we were the lucky ones. The ones that had a good hospital. With good staff. That cared, deeply about us. I also hope, that most Oncologists, are like this. That they take care of their "people." In ways that none of us, would ever see coming. Stay in touch. You may need them again. ❤❤❤