Watch out while visiting Dead Dads!

By way of Universal Hub:

Boston Police report that a woman who had just lit a memorial candle at her father's grave at Forest Hills yesterday afternoon was in her car about to leave when a guy came up to her, showed a box cutter and demanded she get out of the car. Police patrolling Centre Street in West Roxbury 30 minutes later spotted the car; arrested Jamal Daniels, 26, of Roslindale on a carjacking charge.

Cancer Sucks. . .

. . . and so did April.

My father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer roughly two years ago. It was inoperable, and at the time, his prognosis was six months. He started chemotherapy, bought a boat, and made the most of his time. Even though his treatment was complicated by PKD (kidney disease) and uroligical issues, he responded well to treatment and his prognosis stretched out. Dad used his time wisely, making time to clear the air and tie up loose ends with those he cared about. For this, he referred to his diagnosis as a blessing and a treat.

Just over a month ago, Dad had finished a particularly rough course of chemo which had made him extremely ill. Three months of this treatment only slowed the growth of cancer without diminishing the primary tumor. Over two years, his chemo options had been narrowed to this. He had a month to decide whether to continue this chemo or to discontinue chemo all together. If he continued chemo, his quality of life would be poor at best. During treatment he slept 20 hours a day, he was unable to eat or keep food down, his eyesight was worsened, and his mental concentration was so poor that he was unable to read or do any mental arithmatic. Even conversation was difficult at best. Without chemo his prognosis was six months. Dad was planning to choose quality of life over quantity. No matter what, he was going to die, so why shouldn't he be comfortable and be able to enjoy it some.

The first weekend in April, I received an email from Dad. He had an intestinal blockage, and his medical condition was very serious. He was unable to eat. Suddenly, his prognosis was weeks at best. My spouse and I flew out the next weekend to see Dad. It was shocking to see how thin he had become. But, I was in time to actually talk with him. It was a hard weekend, but I was grateful for it. He was definately on his death bed. At times, his breathing would be so difficult that I wasn't sure the next breath would come. He kept breathing, and I returned to my life, only to make two phone calls a day to see how he was doing.

Finally, on April 16 the call came. It was over.

It's been harder than I expected. I thought I was prepared. I thought I had gotten used to the idea. But really, it sucks that he's dead.