Fear the Crab

On Friday, my dad told me he was diagnosed with prostate cancer. Six months ago he was fine, but between then and now he went from a 0 to a 4 on the 5-scale of cancer-ness. I don’t know what the 5-scale means, but in terms of severity, it’s pretty bad.

He has to go in for another series of tests later this week to determine the extent of the spread. I suppose those results dictate the number of options available, such as the possibility of surgery or radiation therapy. Someone told me if the tests show that the cancer is isolated, there’s a good chance they can remove it and increase the odds of survival. My dad feels this cancer is extremely aggressive, given its sudden appearance, so he’s pretty much resigned to the fact that it has spread. That basically shortens his life span dramatically.

It is, of course, a shocking turn of events. It was just this year that he moved into a new house, built from the ground up, to provide comfort and mobility to my paralyzed mom. This year he watched his eldest son get married and legally start a family. Now it seems like he won’t be able to enjoy the new house. He wonders if he will be alive to see grandchildren. He says he has some regrets, that he didn’t fulfill some of his life goals, but that right now he’s looking ahead, making sure things are put into place or set in motion that will address any long-term goals, or handle short-term affairs.

Outwardly, he’s expressed this concern for the well-being of my mom. She’s confined to a wheelchair and needs 24-hour care, so if my dad has to undergo any kind of treatment that leaves him exhausted or weak, a caregiver will have to be hired. He does have family help from my aunts, but they’re no spring chickens, either. A live-in nurse of some kind is required, at least for the physical care.

The worry my dad has over my mom is understandable; he’s had to care for her since the car accident 10 yrs ago left her paralyzed. And it’s fine that he wants to spend his energy on her. It just might give him a purpose, a reason to continue fighting this cancer. It’s a hope that everyone has, and while he tries to prepare for the worst-case scenarios, he shares in that hope.

He just has to let me, or other people in the family, spend our energy on him. I tell my dad that he can worry all he wants, he just has to let me worry about him. It’s a lot easier to prepare together, as a group, than it is by oneself. I learned that just through the planning of my wedding.

Let me drive him to his appointments, or maybe take care of whatever paperwork needs taken care of. I can buy dinners or pay bills so that his limited income can be reserved for treatments and medicines. And hey, if the results come next week that the cancer did not spread, and surgery is able to take care of things, and therapy is enough to put it into remission, the time everyone spent will not have been wasted.

It’s like in baseball, even though the pitcher is the only one that throws the ball and starts the play, he still needs a catcher at the plate, fielders at his back.

I’m not going to just sit on the bench and watch him struggle on the mound.