Battle for life

I wanted to write something, but I have no idea how a post like this is supposed to be written. There are no right words, there is no comfort, there are no answers. Just tons of tears and a profound sense of sorrow, deep like some hell pit and the smell of hospital disinfectants that haunt my days and nights wherever I move. I am afraid to type these words, but I have to – my father is most probably dying.

What appeared to be just a battle to get him out of diabetes induced state that went widely out of control and progressed to ketoacidosis, eventually turned into an ominous discovery of cancerous lesions in his abdomen. We still haven’t found the big one, THE ONE responsible for these lesions as he is still too weak for further aggressive testing, but doctors think that considering the general state of his health that this might not even be important, that it would be just a name to put on the type of cancer he has. For these doctors my dad is not the person I know everything about, he’s just a cancer case. They left me, mentally not very stable person, standing on my two feet while they were telling me these words that sounded so unreal and out of place and put on me the pressure of choice to decide how much of what they think so far I will tell him. If anybody out there knows the way how to lie to a retired medical doctor about his state of health, please tell me how to do it. He knows too much about medicine and suspects quite enough to be fooled around, yet I still have to give him a grain of hope so that he continues to battle for his life. In order to do it, I’d need some hope myself. I need to be strong. Have you ever seen a strong PD sufferer? Till several days ago, I hardly and rarely went further than around my building. All of a sudden, I’m needed – to figure things out, make appointments, find ways how to put him into a hospital in a tragically poor country with one of the worst medical mafias in the world, be the one to whom doctors speak, run around to buy medication and other things he needs, and that’s precisely what I’m totally unfit for in the first place. I’m somehow doing all this and falling apart, but it seems to me that such situations simply numb you to the point that you can process them without going crazy for good. I was managing my PD battles precisely because I developed mechanisms of convincing myself hard that all that dreadful anxiety was not real, that it was bogus, that it can’t harm me. Anxiety and dread I’m feeling now is not much different from what I’m used to, but this time it’s not bogus. Now it’s very real and I can’t do anything about it, which in turn scares me to death. This realization alternates with derealization all the time. What is going to happen? How will he handle it? How much time do we have left? What has happened and how? How are such things processed and survived? How will i survive all this? And of all diseases out there, why cancer?

My dad has been a support in my life in different ways and now life is going to get abnormally tough, change drastically for worse, especially because PD makes me disabled in many ways and I don’t have help. Everything loses meaning and importance. When I think of my recent digital battles, I fell like screaming – how could I’ve been so stupid to get worked up for something that seems like a complete nonsense now? All those things that miss in my life due to PD now seem way much bigger and worse. Who’s gonna give me a hand when my time comes? I don’t have anybody apart from my mom and dad… I would give my stupid PD limited life this very instant to extend his much more meaningful one if things could work that way. What’s life’s purpose anyway and why for some people it has to end in terrible suffering?

I’ve said many times that whenever I start something meaningful for myself in these last years, the moment I try to do something at least a bit beautiful, I somehow get drastically punished for some reason. I took the camera out all right, but what am I supposed to do with it now? I started blogging and found some very precious joys in this special community – I didn’t get many followers but I did make here a couple of very special friendships, big hugs and so many special thanks especially to Judy, Jim and Tammy – I love you guys, your amazing blogs inspired me to start doing something artistic again and your wonderful comments gave me strength not to abandon my newly developed blogging path. I don’t know how to blog now and if I can still do it, if I’m not here it’s because I’m doing really bad, not because I forgot you or this tiny blogging space of mine.

Life’s been very cruel on me, I need those closed fists of mine now more than ever. What’s more, I’ll hate my birthday now for as long as I live, it was on August 16th that my dad took the results of his first analyses and completely forgot about me and my birthday. My only wish while I blew my two tiny cake candles was for him to get better again, but it seems that such wishes never come true. I tried to stay positive in the following days till we got him into the hospital, I wanted to show you my first zinnias’ photos because I knew that later I wouldn’t have strength for it. Or better said, I still hoped that he just needed to be switched to insulin and that things would get better. I’m desperately searching for some grain of hope now, against all odds. It seems that these are the only battles I was born for, those against all odds.

Dear God, please help me, I beg you. Now it’s all in your hands.

Advertisements

8 thoughts on “Battle for life

  1. Dear friend,

    This is a very painful time for you now, I am very sorry you have this in your life, give your love to your father and do not blame yourself.

    Love and strength to you, Judy

    PS. my email is crookedtracksblog at gmail dot com
    send me email if you want

    1. Dear Judy, thank you so much for your loving and caring words, my friend. This last month or so has been so dreadful, we fought so much, we gave everything in that fight, but it didn’t help at all. My dad passed away, and it is still painful for me to pronounce it. I need strength desperately, and it is so hard to find it. I will write to you soon, thank you for leaving me your e-mail address. I do hope you’re doing really well, I wish you all the best from the bottom of my heart.

  2. This sounds like an extra tough time for you who seem only to face tough times. I’m sorry to hear it. Give your love to both parents and do keep blogging. I hope it helps. I can’t imagine that stopping will help, as I suspect that yoy really need some interaction wiith people outside your immediate world. Don’t hate your birthday, that won’t help. Surely that only makes things worse. And I would recommend continuing to pursue some kind of artistic outlet as something for you. Just my thoughts, but what good is blogging if somebody doesn’t share their thoughts? Best wishes!

    1. Dear Jim, I’m sorry for being this late with replying, but I feel very bad, it will take so much time to recover if that is possible… my dad has passed away. You’re right about interaction with people, it is really needed especially when emptiness fills your days and nights. Your words are really precious for me, because they somehow manage to hit the right spot and help me find some purpose in this life. All the best from the bottom of my heart, Tanja

  3. Your endurance is remarkable. I share a similar story and a similar background and I can understand on a personal basis, words cannot describe how tough it is to be going through this, given your circumstances as well. It seems like the world is closing in on you and you are helpless and small. Every breath you take is accompanied by a shock of panic and dread, everything feels so calculated and exhausting. It seems that everyone else moves so freely and without thought, their lives smooth and stress-free. I wish I had some answers for you. But I trust that life’s mysteries unfold to most in the most fascinating of ways, I hope you stay around long enough to see that happen to you.

    1. Sara, thank you so much for your kind words. I apologize for being this late with the reply, but unfortunately so many bad things happened in the meantime, and eventually my dad passed away. It definitely feels as though the world is closing in on me, I don’t know how I am going to survive, life can be very cruel. Hope has abandoned me somehow, but I still want to wish that something good can still happen to good people like you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for you words, they meant so much. Be well and all the best, Tanja

      1. Good people like you and I, Tanja. I’m very sorry to hear about your father, I’m really, very sorry. I can’t say I understand your pain but I empathize with you, I hope you discover your strength very soon, I am sure you need yourself more than anyone else in this time of your life.

      2. Dear Sara, thank you very much for being there for me. May God and destiny bring you only good things and may you and your loved ones never ever deal with a disease as horrible as this one, being spared from it is such a blessing. Take good care of yourself and your health, it is the only true base for everything else we try to achieve every day. I’m fighting for some strength, but it’s still very early and hard. One always needs people in times like this, good people offer help but the only true help would be to bring back the person that is gone, which is not possible. However, sometimes a right phrase or two from a kind soul or a good friend can make such a difference and at least soften the despair even just a tiny bit. I’m struggling, but I hope I’ll manage somehow. Thank you again and all the best, Tanja

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s