Greetings All,
It has been quite some time. This absence has in no way been due to lack of material. Living with my Dad, or shall I say, my Dad living with me gives us daily doses of fun facts, embarrassing episodes, forgetful fancies, countless clutsy moments, freaky food finds, backyard bounces and all the wonderment that comic literary gold is made of. But alas, I must choose wisely - to keep you entertained, engaged and always wanting more.
Let me catch you up on Dad's medical up-to-now: Just a review, last we spoke of Dad he had his operation to remove a lump under his arm. It was a successful operation. Dad went home the next day with a drain attached to keep the fluids from building up under his arm. Sleep was difficult and Dad was often uncomfortable. A week later the doctor removed the drain and said the body should begin to naturally drain the excess fluid. Dad felt tremendous relief and even his sleep was improving.
Now, I must say, that just because I live with this man, it does not mean that he keeps me any more informed than the rest of you living hours away. I found this out at the beginning of this week when Dad mentioned - by the by - that he had a doctor's appointment to discuss his radiation therapy. Huh? Your what? Your when? But, didn't you? Oh did I forget? Did you tell me this? Well, let's pretend that I knew - and I acted as if it was not a big deal that I didn't....
Conversation from my side only:
Okay Dad. What time is your appointment?
Oh at 3pm, would you like me to drive you?
No, okay, you sure?
Well, what are you having done?
Oh, just a conversation to determine what is next, oh, okay....well you sure you do not want me to come? Oh, okay - I have to leave for school - I probably won't see you.
Dad leaves (stage right Uncle Jimmy).
What, home so soon - alright, tell me everything.
What did they do? They drew on your chest? Oh to mark the spot for the actual radiation. Okay, so when do you go back?
Alright, dry run on Friday - why do they do a dry run? Oh to just rehearse the procedure with you.
Okay - and then what?
Radiation therapy every day -five days a week for four weeks. Is that it? Radiation therapy DAILY FOR FOUR WEEKS?!
I wonder if I hadn't run into him the day he had his appointment if he would have ever fessed up?
Okay, so now, he had his run through - it went well, quickly too - it could have been a drive-run through they did it so quickly. They took pictures of him to make sure that they didn't perform radiation therapy on Wilma Groden - and have Dad go through the appendectomy Wilma had scheduled.
Dad begins his therapy on Monday.
I have included a link to a page that briefly summarizes the administering of radiation therapy and the short and long term side effects.
http://www.webmd.com/cancer/tc/radiation-therapy-for-cancer-topic-overview
So, other news...
MYTH - Dad does not eat.
FACT - Dad eats, quite a bit, and often.
In fact at 11pm this evening - as I was just checking in on Facebook pals, I hear the pitter patter of little footsteps creaking down the stairs (Dad was asleep hours earlier). I then hear the microwave. This is a usual nightly thing. Dad making a late night food run. Just a little snack to tide him over. He leaves signs for the next morning. A fork in the sink. The microwave stopped within seconds of completing its cooking. Crumbs on the counter. He would not make a good burgular.
When I first arrived at 141 Brunswick - I noticed that Dad had 3-4 small plastic food containers from Foodtown (our local supermarket)in his refridgerator - along with a few pieces of fruit, bread, eggs, orange juice, water and milk. A bachelor's fridge. I observed the contents of the fridge - along with many other of Dad's behaviors - the way Dian Fossey must have observed her mountain gorrila's, to better understand how they survive. I noticed what he liked to get from the supermarket in the way of prepared food (meatballs, macaroni and cheese, and chicken -he made the pasta and rice himself) and one week in - I began to make the food fresh for him and I took over the duty of shopping for the household.
I have noticed what Dad's favorites are (cavatelli and broccoli, meatballs, mac and cheese and a never ending tossed salad) and I use the recycled supply of Dad's black storage containers to keep the fridge full. Backups are in the freezer and now, I am proud to say, there is ice in the house. Mary, you would be so proud of me.
So, Dad eats well.
Just don't get me started on the contents of his cabinets....maybe next time.
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