Being there, it matters

Being there, it matters

I would like to give a little background on both my wife and mother.  Not the whole family history, etc. but rather how my situation directly affects them and triggers certain memories.  Nita’s father passed away from pancreatic cancer just a year after my father died in the mid 90’s.  Nita was in her mid-20s and still figuring things out.  But watching her father go in a hospice bed at home made her grow up pretty quickly.  Her father had a traumatic birth with the doctor using forceps to remove young Luke Patrenella. During birth his eye was damaged to the extent that he needed a glass eye.  During the hospice stay, young Nita would help her father remove the eye so he could rest.  I believe some of the calm Nita is showing is due to the fact that she has seen this play out before, the first time is always the hardest.  She could have gone one of two ways with my situation and luckily (for us) she chose to be composed and strong.

Sixteen years ago my mother was alerted that her only brother was about to pass away. She flew out to San Diego to be with him.  While his family was out arguing about who knows what, she was alone with him as he went.  She held his hand and prayed with him.  In the course of four years she’d lost her husband and brother, from 2000 on, I’m all that is left (grandchildren notwithstanding).

So I have a favor to ask. It seems as though the first question everyone asks my wife and mother are, “How is Marco?”  While I appreciate this immensely and am firmly convinced that the thoughts and prayers are working…would you please ask how they are doing first?  They are suffering right along with me, not physically, but definitely feeling some pain.  Nita has to worry about which day in the future I might be in the hospice bed, where the children will be, and going through this again.  As was evident in my blog about my father, I still think about him and miss him dearly.  I can only imagine what thoughts cross the minds of Nita and mom.  Thank you for this extra step.

If you have been following all along, my second entry was about the Refiner’s touch.  Well I sure hope He sees His image soon.  My daughter Josie even asked me if the “cancer was almost gone.” We had a discussion about remission and return, but that daddy is always going to fight.  The side effects are getting worse.  My oncologist even backed off the doses 10% which he said is standard practice this far along and with my results showing positive reactions. God forbid we would have to go full throttle again in two weeks.  Monday night was the worst one yet.  I literally (not just figuratively) felt poisoned. It felt like waves of nausea and dull organ pain were dueling for attention.  If you’ve ever had food poisoning it felt somewhat like that, but I didn’t feel like there was anything to throw up.  Or maybe another way, remember that last really bad hangover…where you had chills and ached?  Multiply that by 20.  My anti (everything) meds just weren’t getting it done this time.  And my night time sleepy meds did not kick in either.  I was up until about 1AM (about 3 hours passed my normal bed time).  The bright side was I was able to hear the thunderstorm roll in.

I’ll be in Houston in a couple of weeks for a scan at MD Anderson.  I’m bringing the family this time.  They’ll go do fun stuff while I get the pokes and prods.  But we’ll be together and we’ll get to visit the extended family at the restaurant.  Feel free to join us at Patrenella’s or drop in for a drink Tuesday or maybe Wednesday night March 15/16.  The results will hopefully show some big gains and the recommendations will be the key to how my spring and summer go.  As it turns out, another coach on Connor’s baseball team had cancer and is seven years free.  I feel like I am surrounded by positive energy and for that I am thankful.  Usually there is a lull after an event, the first few weeks or months everyone is there for you, asking what they can do.  Then it tapers off as life continues and one gets busy with their own things.  I want to say thank you to my friends, family, support network, etc.  I have never felt alone throughout the last six months.  A celebrity friend of mine even recorded a video singing a song and sent it to me to cheer me up this week.  Another buddy took me to lunch on Thursday.  I firmly believe that healing is a combination of what your body can tolerate, your faith, your mental strength, and the love and prayers of your support group.  The latter is what helps you feel surrounded by love when you are alone in a chair with an IV attached.  Trust me, it matters, and it makes a difference. God bless you all.

The weekend before was great.  I was heading into the last two days of my off week where I absolutely feel the best I can feel.  Saturday Nita pulled off an impromptu play date with some of our kid’s best friends and parents at a local park. How many times had I seen this as an opportunity to take a break from the family, watch something mind numbing on the tube, or squeeze in some work?  Too many is the answer. This time I loaded up the golf cart with our baseball stuff, some water and snacks, and off we went.  We sang songs on the way and had a great time at the park.  One of the other dads and I started throwing and hitting the baseball.  Connor and Josie quickly moved down to where we were to join in the fun (nobody pinch me).  It was just a great day, we finished off with a fun family movie night in the man cave.

Sunday was Josie’s first day of tee ball practice, unfortunately I had to break it to Josie’s coach.  He was asking about practice days and my thoughts and I had to come out and tell him about my cancer and my pump limitations three days every fortnight. Although I don’t really feel weird about my situation anymore, the awkwardness is palpable the first time people hear the news .  And I try to soft sell it to avoid the inevitable, but how soft can you say, “I have stage four cancer.”  Anyone who has ever been around the disease knows it isn’t good.  But that brings up another aspect that too many people take for granted.  By now you know I’ve adopted the Live Like You Were Dying mantra (I will not be attempting a bull ride by the way).  I am constantly reminded that you don’t have to be diagnosed with a terminal disease to adopt this philosophy.  One of the most heart breaking moments of my entire cancer reality was a few weeks after my surgery.  A very dear friend and a man for whom I worked at Dell called me and texted me to tell me that HE was heartbroken and was praying for me every day.  He was a very devout Christian and a good family man.  A week later some dipshit running from the police crossed over the median on HWY 130 (80-85MPH speed limit), and hit my friend head on.  His son was in the car, and was badly injured but survived and healed.  Wally was killed instantly.  He was taking his son to practice. 

It can happen so fast, with no chance to tell everyone you love them.  No boys night dinners at the County Line (thanks brothers). No last nighttime kiss on your daughter’s forehead as you wish her sweet dreams.  No snuggle with your son as you say the nightly prayer. No last embrace of your wife to thank her for clean laundry, hot food, and loving you despite your pile of faults.  It can be over in an instant.  My gift is acceptance of my ultimate fate.  But nothing guarantees that cancer will be my exit strategy.  It could happen anytime, anywhere. So I choose not to live in fear but rather bask in the joy of simple everyday occurrences.  I don’t need to be snorkeling a coral reef to find happiness or escape.  In fact, I’m actually glad I didn’t win that 1B lottery.  What would I do with it?  I’m not a gear head so I don’t need cars. I like our house and neighborhood, and I don’t need a G650 (although I would love to fly in one someday).  I am happy with the life I have and am surrounded by the finest friends and family.  In fact, the extra time I’ve been spending with the kids looks like it is paying off.  Sitting on the couch the other day, (watching sports with my boy) Connor looked over and unprompted said, “You are the best dad ever” and he didn’t even ask for anything.  I’ve never felt more blessed.  TeamMarco@austin.rr.com