As many of you may have read on Friday, I wrote a diary regarding the fact that I had learned that my Dad has Stage 3 (actually Stage 3B-to-4) Lung Cancer, and his/our decisions regarding it.
On the other side of the fold, I have an update on his condition, a report from the Hospice, and a response that he wrote from his hospital bed.
Cross-posted at ePluribus Media
So he's still in the hospital, and will probably be there for a few more days, as they've got him on Heparin, and want to wean him off of it (and get his temperatures normal) before they send him home.
Memo to those who had made donations to the Hospice of the Western Reserve. They are grateful for your donations -- and please, if you haven't made one, feel free to do it now -- but they've been perplexed because they don't know who it's for. So if they call, or if you call them, tell them it's for Andy Smith. Those saying prayers can feel free to use that name too. ;-)
And now, the note from Dad:
Hi, this is Timroff's Dad.
I won't regurgitate what my son has already written, except that the bed is a Tempur-Pedic® Adjustable Bed and it came from a Furniture Store, not a hospital bed from a medical supply store.
Years ago -- fifteen or more -- I began questioning the whole practice of chemotherapy and radiation. There were four members of the church I served who caught -- is it caught? fell upon? wound up with? -- Lung Cancer. Three chose the chemo route. EAch, in turn, told me "we're going to lick this thing" (that was not said in my case). Each, in turn, went into the hospital and started on chemo. And each, in turn, had Thrush. The next day, each, in turn, looked like Jabba the Hutt. And each, in turn, died shortly thereafter, in great pain and suffering.
The fourth, a woman in her mid-seventies, an alcoholic and chain smoker, just said no to drugs -- and radiation. She lived a few months, moved to a nursing home when she could no longer take care of herself. She continued smoking, going down to the smoking lounge, and her sons smuggled in whiskey for the evening. When she died, it was with her sons at her side and she... just... let go.
I think that last sentence sums up everything I want for my dad, and I'll do everything I can to help make it so.