It began like any other day, waking up at 6:30 to get our two oldest daughters of to school, my husband just happened to be off that day. I have made it a habit to drink my morning coffee while on the phone with my dad catching up, and checking on his health. Yet for the past month or so we have been having another of one of our silent spells of not speaking to each other because of some disagreement or another. My dad and I had the type of relationship that could only be understood if you knew the both of us. It could run hot or cold, depending on the topic at hand, but we could not be divided. Even though we were experiencing "radio silence" for some reason, today was the day for all of that to end. I didn't like not speaking to him for so long, never had we gone this long without a single word.
As I sat outside, drinking my coffee I just had this overwhelming feeling to speak to my dad, a feeling in my gut that pushed me to calling him. Regardless to how terrible the argument, I can usually get ahold of my dad after a few tries. He knows how to hold a grudge, a trait that I have no doubt inherited from him but he also gets annoyed easily and would have answered with my persistence. Today is different. Today I cannot get him on the phone, either cell or house. My dad has several health issues, any one which could take his life at any moment, which is the reason he has drilled his "plan of action" into my head these past few months. If I am unable to get him on the phone after a few tries I am supposed to call his brother who lives only an hour away from him, since I am almost 1000 miles away. I didn't call him right away, first I called the area hospital since my dad has been in and out recently. He is not in the hospital. I then called his apartment manager to do a welfare check because at this point I'm getting worried. I get a call back about 15-20 minutes later saying that the lights are on in my dad's apartment (it's 9:30 in the morning), and my dad's truck is in the same spot it was in on Friday which caused alarm because it is now Tuesday.
It's time to call my dad's brother to find out what is going on. Thankfully my dad had given me his number before hand, without it I would have the added stress of now having to locate his brother as well. I have to ask my husband to go locate the phone number, as I am too stressed out to find anything. He comes back with the number and I dial it, trying to stay my shaking hands so I'm not pressing the wrong numbers. When I finally get him on the phone, the tone of his voice is as shaky as my fingers at this point. He was nervous and couldn't get out more than three words, the same three words repeated three times until iI almost had to yell to get it out of him. "Where is my dad," was the only thing I can remember asking him yet I don't think I could ever prepare myself for the next words to come out of his mouth. I had to ask him to repeat himself at least twice before iI could actually comprehend what was said. He told me that they had actually had my dad's funeral the day before and he had passed away more than a week ago! I almost dropped my phone, I was shaking so hard, I couldn't even get any words out until I looked at my husband, that's when I asked him why? Why wouldn't he call me sooner, give me the opportunity to be present at my own dad's funeral, make decisions as to where and how he would be buried, give me the closure of being able to see my dad one last time. I was given none of that. I had to hang up the phone on him, I couldn't listen to his lies and nonsense any longer.
How could this have happened? How could I have let so much time go by that I not only was clueless to his death, but I completely missed saying good bye. I wasn't allowed this closure, this chance was stolen from me like most of my children's inheritance. I'm just glad that my husband was with me because if not for him I am not sure how I could have processed all of this. I'm not sure that I have even actually processed the totality of my grief even now, but we do the best we can. I know that the responsibility of informing my sister in Hawaii now rests in my hands and I'm not certain how she will take the news. Her and my dad had a rocky relationship to say the least, only recently getting back on speaking terms, but I can't let that stop me from notifying her. When I call her i can hardly get the words out, feeling as though I'm in shock, but i have to tell her. Finally i get it out but still couldn't believe what i had just said, it didn't seem to register with her at first either. I had to repeat myself and this time I had to tell her that we were not allowed at the funeral which happened the day before. Who would do such a thing, to not inform a person's children of their death for your own personal gain is despicable.
I have this overwhelming urge to pack up the family and take the 1000 mile journey to my dad's home. I wanted to get the last bit of contact with him or his belongings, to be able to go to his home and experience how he was living the days before he passed away. For some reason I believed that this would give me closure. This was not the case. When I get to my dad's home it was not what I expected, not so much of the house itself but the way things were left, as well as the response from my dad's brother when I informed him that I was at my dad's house. It is sad to see how lonely my dad must have been and how he actually preferred it that way. So much is going through my head that i can't even begin to process it all. Where do I even begin? There is so much to do, yet I do not think I will be able to finish it all. Maybe my dad's brother would be able to help me take care of all of this packing, after all he had been in my dad's house since he passed so he was aware of what needed to be done. My husband didn't want me to call him since he had already shown his true colors, but I felt that he should be given the chance to redeem himself. So I called him from my dad's house phone so he would know I was actually there, his reaction was for the record books. Not only would be not help, he is now telling me that I should not have come there. Are you serious?!
I am beginning to put the pieces together. I wasn't notified about my dad's death so that his brother was able to go to my dad's house and take whatever he wanted. My dad warned me about him and I should have taken him more seriously. I am so flabbergasted that I honestly cannot even think straight. At this point I felt so disgusted with this so called family that I had to pack up my family and come right back home. I couldn't even begin to pack my dad's house up I was so disgusted. In hindsight, this was probably not the best idea but at the time it was the only idea. So I filed a police report for theft and went home. I can't help but think that I should have stayed to ensure that my dad's things didn't end up in goodwill, I was driven by my emotions. I made this trip without planning anything, just took the kids out of school, my husband told his boss he would be gone about a week and that was that. Many have said that this trip was made in a snap decision and i should have expected got it to end in this way. We haven't even been at my dad's house for a couple of hours and we are already pulling out to head home, I can guarantee that will be back once I can contain my emotions.
This trip back home is probably the fastest trip home ever. We drove straight through only stopping for gas, and it only took us 16 hours instead of the average 21. I couldn't wait to get back home so I can find out what I can do about this person stealing not only from me but from my kids. By the time we got back into the state I could barely hold my eyes open but my racing mind wouldn't allow me to even consider sleep. We are in the home stretch now, having less than 200 miles to go I am beginning to get butterflies. I just cannot believe what the past 48 hours has held and it seems as though this is only the beginning of the battle. Pulling in to our driveway I feel a small sense relief, back in my comfort zone it didn't even seem to matter that we left the house in chaos or that now we are coming back only to add to the chaos with not only the belongings of my dad but the emotions coming with his death. I was actually glad that it was Easter weekend, I would have at least one day to rest before I would have to deal with my new reality. The reality of loneliness and sadness that I will now have to face without my best friend. That is who I was mourning, who I had lost, who I couldn't replace.
Most people have a difficult time being able to empathize with me when I tell them this story. Many find it difficult to even be able process the details surrounding my father's death. I find it difficult to not feel guilty about being so stubborn, not talking to my father for the time before his death. Losing my dad was one of the most difficult times I've had to conquer in my 32 years, and I have battled cancer, lost a child, even my mother passing away when I was 12 years old didn't compare to the feeling of loss that I felt when I learned my father passed away. The day that I learned my father not only passed away, but was already buried I saw that family is only as strong as its members and that if no bonds are made, none will be respected.
Monday, October 26, 2015
How Cancer Changed Me, part 1
How Cancer Changed Me.
My journey down this path began when I was 18 years old and would affect my life until this day. It all began with an abnormal pap smear at the age of 18 years old. At that time in my life, my number one priority was not getting a follow up, to say the least. I did call the doctor's office to see what I was supposed to do next, but once they began saying words like colposcopy, I panicked, figured it would go away on its own, I ignored it completely. I was never one to be very consistent with anything, especially my health care. This disease was allowed to grow, and fester.
I showed very little signs or symptoms, aside from painful intercourse, and irregular periods which I automatically explained away as a sign of the stress I was experiencing from my living situation and life choices I was missing at the time. I had no idea that a deadly venom was producing inside my body that would eventually spread and attack my entire reproductive system. I did not see another doctor until I went to prison for a short time, who did nothing more than confirmed the original abnormal pap smear. Again, I chose not to follow up, afraid of the inevitable.
I had all but forgotten about my past test results, having two children without serious incident. When I got pregnant for the third time, I knew that my past had come back with a vengeance. I didn't know I was pregnant, taking a pregnancy test as more of a joke than anything. I was experiencing morning sickness, but I was still having the erratic, yet noticeably more consistent bleeding episodes as before. Taking the pregnancy test, I was shocked to find out that I was in fact pregnant. Life at home was already difficult enough with just our two daughters, but now to add another child into the equation just seemed selfish. I am VERY MUCH against abortion, so that was not even a consideration, so we played the hand we were dealt and I scheduled my first prenatal appointment for that following week.
When I went to my appointment, I was still experiencing some bleeding, and my nausea had gotten to the point of inhibiting my ability to eat and keep any food down. With these symptoms, my doctor declined to preform a routine pap smear. In turn he only preformed an ultrasound, which showed nothing and prescribed me medication for the morning sickness. I left the appointment with more questions than answers. I still had no idea what was going on or why I was having these issues. I do believe that fear stopped me from being proactive about my health, which only allowed for the cancer inside of me to do what it wanted, ravage my body from the inside out and I was none the wiser. For weeks each time I went for an appointment, it was more of the same, still bleeding, another ultrasound, more medications, and less answers than the previous appointment. Finally at about 20 weeks, right before we would find out the sex of our baby, my doctor finally gave an explanation for the pain and bleeding. I was told that I was actually pregnant with twins and the bleeding was my having a miscarriage of one of the twins. How was this possible? How could one baby be slowly dying but the other seems to be unharmed, who makes that decision? I had too many questions and no answers. I would leave this appointment as I had all of the others, with more questions than what I came with.
I felt awful to go home and feel that I had too lie to my husband. I wasn't able to lie very well, especially not to him, as my conscious proved to always get the better of me. But this was a secret that I had too keep from him, I couldn't add to his stress, after all he was dealing with his own stresses including just having lost his job and fighting a seemingly ending battle with alcoholism. I would have to keep this to myself for as long as I could. Over the next couple of weeks, my symptoms only got worse and now included bowel issues that needed to be treated as well, but being as I was pregnant there was only so much that could be done. I followed all of the doctor's instructions, took any medication that I was prescribed no matter how I personally felt about the medication. This would prove my undoing.
Exactly one week after finding out the sex of our baby, still suffering from the bleeding, nausea, and bowel issues yet by now these have seemingly gotten worse instead of better. I had to perform an enema on myself, which I knew better than to do but this was something prescribed by my doctor. They do know best, right? This actin would prove to be the undoing of my pregnancy. Later that night, I had to be rushed to the hospital for a protruding umbilical cord. Within an hour of being admitted to the hospital I was giving birth to my son who had passed away. I faced this devastation alone, as my husband was home with our other two children aged 3, and 1. I couldn't stay in that hospital any longer than I had too. Almost pulling out the IV's, I literally forced them to release me before any of the medication even wore off.
You could not convince me that my doctor couldn't have prevented this from happening, he wasn't even there when I delivered my son. I never went back to see that doctor again, and I didn't even go for a follow-up after having my baby, feeling completely let down by anyone in the medical profession. I would not see another doctor for eighteen months when I was almost 5 months pregnant with our fourth child. This pregnancy would prove nothing like the last, as I was almost halfway to my due date before seeing the first doctor. I was weary of this doctor because I couldn't handle another pregnancy like the last, but with this one there was a huge difference, we were living in another state. I had more faith in these doctor's than the previous doctor but I couldn't be 100% honest with them.
We would move again before I would give birth to our daughter, back to the place with the faulty doctor. This worried me but by this time I was due in less than eight weeks, which out my mind at ease to an extent. I wouldn't see another doctor before I delivered my daughter. This may not have been the choice of many, I felt as though I knew what was best for me and my baby. The doctor who delivered my daughter was actually a really good doctor. He was so good that I went to him for my follow-up appointment. This visit would open the Pandora box of my body so wide that I haven't been able to shut it five years later.
He ran all the normal tests, but the results that would come back were anything but normal. I had the same abnormal results as before only this time the nurse who called me insisted that I come back the very same week. Maybe it was because I was older and had a family that I decided to go back to the doctor, or it could have been that being more mature now I wanted to know what was going on with my body. Either way it goes, I went back to finally hear the news I had been running from for almost a decade. I went to the appointment without my husband. Most women would probably bring their husband, if not their best friend, but I felt that I needed to handle this on my own. It could have had something to do with the fact that I had this issue before I was married, or it could have just been me wanting to take care of it without bothering anyone else with my issues. Whatever the reason, I faced this issue alone.
There was no easy way to give the news, and there was no easy way to receive the news. I could tell by the look on my doctor's normally jovial face that something was definitely wrong.
"Mrs. Ralliford, I really hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you have tested positive for HPV." He says to me in his strong Spanish accent, which at times can be difficult to understand but this time I could hear him loud and clear.
"What the hell is HPV? I've never even heard of that before. And why hasn't anyone else ever found this? I have other kids, this should have been seen before, right?" I was almost yelling at him, but he kept his cool while being sympathetic to me.
"HPV is an STD that almost 80% of the population has at some point in their lives. There are several different strains of this virus, from the discreet yet annoying, to the cancer causing strain. I have had your results tested further to type the HPV." He paused for a moment, it seemed as if he were trying to gauge my reaction. "Your results came back as the more aggressive form, it seems to have been affecting you for some time and is already forming the cancerous cells. This along with your family history of cancer, I only wish we could have caught this earlier, we could have at least prolonged this for a while longer."
"Wait a minute, your telling me that I have an STD or that I have cancer? I'm very confused." I felt as though I needed more of an explanation.
"You have an STD that is forming cancer as we speak. I apologize for being so blunt." He said with such a look of concern you would think we were family.
For once in my life I was speechless. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, yet I fought them back with everything I could muster. How could I tell my husband? My children? Am I going to die? What do I do now? I had so many questions but I couldn't seem to get the words separated long enough in my brain to make sentences, so all I could do is sit there.
"We will have to run another test to see where we are in this, and I want to schedule that asap, this week if we can." My doctor was now snapped back into professional mode, no more emotion just down to business. "I will have my nurse make your appointment. Do you want to call your husband to come pick you up?"
"No. I can drive myself, I need some time to figure this out."I told him very matter of fact.
He gave me an appointment for three days later, hardly enough time for me to process the original news, let alone now running another test that would put me further into this battle than I ever wanted to be. This test would prove to be more emotionally draining and physically painful than I wanted to go through alone. Yet I had no other choice, my mother passed away almost a decade and a half before, I had no relationship with my sister, and I had no friends to speak of. I would go this journey alone like I had in the past. The next 48 hours would prove to be more nerve racking than I wanted to deal with after all I've been through. There were a few times when I even went back and forth on actually going back for this next test. I couldn't handle what was going to happen, or what would cine from it. The fear of the unknown well paralyze you if you allow it.
I went to the test, alone as I had done many times in the past. I could tell that my doctor was trying to be a gentle as possible, while he explained what this test would show. I was told that the test would basically give me a stage for the cancer that was growing inside of me. Would let me know how severe the cancer was at this point. There was no way that he could prepare me for the pain that this test would cause, to the point I wanted him to stop the test. It was a good thing that I had such a good doctor, both he and his nurse did everything they could to make me feel as comfortable as possible, enough to finish the procedure. When it was finished, it almost felt as though I had just had a baby, the stretching of the abdomen, the pain between my legs, and the bleeding that followed reminded me of the of the six weeks following labor. I left that appointment feeling more confused and alone than I had before going, and I would now have to wait a little longer to find out where I am in this battle against the cancer that is living inside of me.
It would be a week of anxious waiting, snapping at my husband for nothing, and bouts of depression all in the name of patience would waiting for the results of the staging procedure. When I would finally get the results, I was relieved to say the least. It was determined that I was in the very beginning of this journey, at a mere stage one. What does this mean, do I have to wait for treatment until I get worse? What are my options in treatment? How fast will this disease progress? I am filled with questions, yet I will not get them answered anytime soon. Very shortly after this test was preformed, I not only lost my medical insurance and had no way to pay for any further doctor visits, but my family would face some very difficult choices and have to move out of the state. I seemed to be in a no win situation, but I had to make best of what I was dealing with. Only after we moved I would have nothing but time to think and dwell on this situation and the fact that I could now do nothing about it.
The next time I would be seen by a doctor would be more than a year and a half later when I learned I was now pregnant with our fourth child. This doctor waa a new doctor at a new comic and knew nothing more of my history than what I disclosed. Maybe I was hoping that if I didn't bring it up then it wouldn't exist, or that my remaining silent, denying the cancer it would lie dormant. I was proven wrong, it would present itself only this time I vilify be offered any treatment, because I was pregnant. Again this cancer is given the chance to grow more intense, sitting to other organs, affecting other bodily functions. With each visit to the doctor, little more could be said than the doctor asking how I was feeling. With each visit I could feel my frustration growing with the lack of answers, information, or remedies for this cancer now battling with my unborn child for my strength and health. I felt as though the doctor's were just sitting on their hands waiting for me to be stage three or four, on my death bed, weak from chemo. I didn't want to ever be that person, I couldn't allow myself to be that person. I wanted to get this cancer out of me yet no one was willing.
To Be Continued.........
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