A Chapter From Dad's Little Book of Instructions...

“Life doesn't come with an instruction book; that's why we have fathers.”
-- H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

Last night, I was able to prove this is true. I didn’t have an instruction book for what I was going through, so I talked to my dad. And he knew exactly what to say. I have been having a really hard time dealing with some of the upcoming milestones. These milestones that I normally celebrate and enjoy are causing great levels of anxiety and stress.

My mom’s birthday is Friday. I’m going to miss her more than I do on a normal day that day. I’m going to miss the cake and teasing about her “being over the hill” like we’ve done every other year for the past several years. I remember when she turned 40. We got her chocolate cupcakes with black frosting. We all thought it was hilarious until the frosting turned out mouths black and we weren’t able to get rid of it for the rest of the day. Mom sure had the last laugh there. I remember all of the other years when mom would do what we all wanted to do for her birthday. It wasn’t about her or what she wanted, it was about us all being together and having a good time together. That was her. Finding the humor in everything and unselfishly loving us all.

February is a month full of milestones – old and new alike.  In February is my birthday. It was a day I always looked forward to, a day my mom always made special. With a surprise birthday cake that I always loved, going out to dinner with the entire family, and just spending time together enjoying it all. It was always a month I look forward to. However, last year, February offered many new milestones – ones that I wish I did not need to have. Milestones I wish I was not reminded of.

February 8, 2010: I called home to talk to my mom. The house phone was busy. I called my sisters phone. She said, “Have you talked to dad yet?” I asked her why. She wouldn’t answer. She told me to call dad’s cell phone. I could hear in her voice there was something wrong. I called dad’s cell phone. He told me that Mom had her annual appointment, and they got some bad news. Mom might have cancer.

February 11, 2010: My birthday. Mom had an appointment to have some more tests done. She was going to have a liver biopsy. This was one of my first birthdays in a long time I didn’t spend at home with my family. I asked mom if she wanted me to be there with her while she had her test. She said no, go out and have fun. I didn’t go home. I kind of regret it now. I was I had gone home. We talked after she had her test. She was so out of it, she forgot to say “Happy Birthday”. I was worried more at this point than I had been before. We went home the next day and we all went out to dinner. Mom got sick after dinner. My worry doubled.

February 17, 2010: I went with mom and dad to mom’s oncology appointment in St. Cloud. I was in an overwhelming state of anxiety. The day seemed to start out poorly, and I almost didn’t go. I’m so glad that I went. Mom saw the oncologist and we found out mom had cancer. Terminal cancer. Mom was given a technical diagnosis of Stage IV Ovarian Cancer which had metastasized to her liver. The doctor could not give us any information about how long mom had, or what the chances are that the proposed treatment would help. All I heard was “There is a lot of disease” and “eventually this disease will kill you.” He discussed his plan for treatment, which consisted of admitting mom to the hospital and giving her an aggressive dose of chemo therapy.

February 18, 2010: Mom had her first round of chemo therapy. I stayed with mom in the hospital all day that day. We talked about so many things, things that I hold dear to my heart now. Memories. They were going to keep mom overnight, but were hopeful that she would get to go home the next day. She handled the chemo well.

February 19, 2010: Mom got to go home! The doctor said that she had handled the chemo well, and he was optimistic that she would continue to respond to the treatments well. The anxiety levels were reduced some. I could breathe (kind of) again. Mom was excited too. She couldn’t wait to get out of the hospital. She vocalized that several time.

February 23, 2010: Mom went back to the hospital. I met mom and dad there. They were going to admit mom again. She was extremely dehydrated. Her white count was at a rock bottom. The doctors remained optimistic. Her condition continued to deteriorate on a daily basis.

February 26, 2010: Mom passed away. This had to have been the hardest day of my life thus far. To hear someone say those two words “she’s gone”, like it didn’t mean anything. I honestly think I felt a part of my heart break away that day, and since then there has been a dull ache where the missing part used to be.

So, in a month that I used to enjoy are now filled full of milestones that I wish weren’t there. Full of milestones that when I think about them make me want to cry. Full of milestones that make me my miss my mom that much more than I do on any other day. It now makes this month full of milestones that I do not know how to handle.

The past couple of days, maybe weeks, I have felt a little more down than normal. I don’t want to do as much as I normally would. I would rather stay in, on my couch, watching TV than going out with friends like I usually find joy in doing. I find myself cuddled up in my bed in the middle of the afternoon more than I normally do. I cannot sleep at night. My mind thinks of these upcoming milestones and I don’t know what to do.

Last night a simple phone call from my dad helped it all. He called and asked what was going on. I explained to him some situations that were frustrating me. Then he said, “And what else?” like he knew there was more than what I was just telling him. So, I told him. I told him I was having a hard time thinking about the next couple of months because of all these new milestones in my life. He listened, and he gave me suggestions, and most importantly, he told me we were all having a hard time and we would all help each other through it. He gave me a chapter out of his instruction book. His comforting words helped.

Even though I am faced with a month of milestones that I am not looking forward to, I was reminded last night by my dad that there will always be friends and family there who care for me and who will be willing to help, and I can always count on my dad for advice from his book of instructions.