I think Daddy know that he's reaching the end of his battle... The other day at the hospital as I was buttering his roll that came with lunch, he asked me, "have you thought about who's going to walk you down the aisle kiddo?" I didn't really think he was of the frame of mind to even think about it. But when I suggested having my Uncle Kevin push Daddy is in wheelchair down the aisle, Dads reaction was not good. He said he doesn't want to be on display, which is why he never want to sit outside in the front yard. He thinks everyone will just stare at him, he doesn't realize that even though people look at him with heavy hearts, they also admire him. He's a hero not only in my eyes, but to many others.
Today is his last day of radiation to the lesion on his cerebellum, you would think his mood would be better than it is. His mood is awful today, short, snippy, hasn't even looked me in the eye. But again, I think it's because he knows the cancer is winning. Not only has it spread to his brain, but with feeling lightheaded and throwing up blood and being in the hospital, getting all the different tests done, his body is starting to give up. His kidney is trying it's hardest, but is not up to par. He is retaining fluid in his legs and side that make him even more uncomfortable than ever. And he knows that since radiation finishes today, he will soon be discharged to a nursing facility... He hates it. I hate it even more. I don't want my Daddys last hours to be in a dingy dirty nursing home with awful room mates and crap food. He deserves to be home... With us. But since it hurts for him to stand and all of his other issues and insurance won't cover for a nurse to be at our house all the time... We don't have a choice.
I, a person who is healthy and runs and walks and eats whenever I want, feel helpless. I can't even begin to imagine how helpless Daddy feels... I love being able to see him every day and tell him I love him, but cancer has made it so that every day, my heart breaks into too many pieces for me to pick up.