Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes

Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes 

One of my Aggie recruiting sites had a Godfather movie and quote discussion this week and wouldn’t you know it, after the Rangers got hammered by the Blue Jays on Monday the Godfather came on.  A scene that came on was the elder Don Corleone imparting his wisdom on the middle-aged Michael who was poised to take over the family.  What I took from this is that although Connor is clearly too young to take any Consiglieri type guidance, I still have a chance to teach him some things and write some legacy instructions to help him later in life.  And he certainly needs to know whoever arranges the meeting with Barzini at my funeral is the traitor!  He’ll guarantee your safety son, but he is the traitor.

 

This week is all preparation.  Monday the 19^th, the Chemo starts.  So this is the week to address last minute details. Dental cleaning (because once your immune system plummets you can’t just go get fillings and caps), port flush, and basic home care and set up.  My friends are coming by on Saturday for the A&M Alabama game and the bar is stocked.  I’ve taken this opportunity to spend the last couple of weeks making time to see friends.  I also have to get some paperwork done, wills, medical power of attorney, etc.  Additionally, I’ve had the opportunity to candidly discuss with Nita things on which we have the luxury of foresight.  This eliminates the need for her to scramble at the last minute and have to guess and more than likely freak out that she’s making the wrong choices.  So we talked about my funeral, pall bearers, and reception.  I think a roast would be appropriate but she’s not buying it yet.  We’ll see, I still have some time to work on her.  But wouldn’t it be great to have old friends get up and tell stories some of which she might never have known, and my mother certainly had no idea of some of my shenanigans.

On Sunday Oct 11, we threw a surprise party for my mother.  It was her 80^th birthday and she had family and friends come from all over.  It was a really nice little event and she was tickled about all the attention.  Of course I had many people come and ask about me and the obligatory questions that I’ve answered a hundred times.  One of the best compliments I received was a former teacher telling me how amazing it was watching me interact with my children.  A hint of validation that I’m doing it right.  It’s all about the big rocks right now (Rocks in a jar story).

 

We told the kids about my cancer Monday during dinner.  It went way better than expected.  We addressed many of the changes that have occurred and talked about some changes that were inevitable.  We inspected my port and spoke of the importance of washing hands, and using hand sanitizer.  We talked about daddy’s hat collection and that I might look funny with no hair, but we’ll be fine.  The kids were most concerned about their impending flu shot this weekend.  We also discussed some strategies for how we might react to certain situations that are likely to come up.  I have been given guidance that when my immune system tanks and I start feeling bad that my patience might also run short.  So we practiced some role playing strategies around how to remind me why I’m so willing to fight and how hard.  Essentially it was the kids saying, “Dad, it’s just me Connor/Josie.  How can I help?” I would hope that this is enough of a kick in the butt for even the grouchiest Grinch to have their hearts restored to 10 times the size and show some affection to even the naughtiest whos in whoville.

 

Turns out the kids have a game face too.  In front of me they are all hugs and smiles.  Then while Nita was putting them to bed they have been asking about me and if I’m going to get better.  Both kids were up in the night and came downstairs. There is palpable anxiety, poor things. Josephine seems especially concerned, and it is somewhat heart breaking to know that a sweet little almost five year old is having to deal with this at all.  She should be worrying about dress up and her dolls, not cancer.  Another reason to fight.

Speaking of poor Luca, I guess he had it the easiest.  As Nita and I went over plans, the future, passwords, accounts, and other decisions I realized that living is much harder than dying.  This weekend I attended the funeral of a very sweet man with whom I had the privilege of working.  His wife said that they were praying for me and that I was one of her husband’s favorites.  What this made me realize is his job is done, but his poor wife has to carry the load.  I’ve been called courageous and inspirational by some but Nita is the real champion here.  I get the benefit of being the shooting star (for the record I’m not giving up, I haven’t even started, so y’all relax out there, but the math is what it is).  Anyway, Nita is the one who’ll have to press on, keep making lunches, take the kids to school and sports and maybe get a job so she won’t have to foot the family insurance bill out of pocket.  She has to take the wheel and guide the ship.  So I guess I’ll just have to fight that much harder to limit the burden.  But looking forward, I’ll need some of my brothers out there to take Connor hunting and fishing.  All the dude stuff.

We also spoke about what would happen should a tragedy befall her.  We discussed custody of the children and trust funds.  We spoke about our 80 year old mothers and what that impact would be based on location of our friends (whom we haven’t really approached yet). It is a red pill blue pill type of thing.  Would you rather know or not know?  Ignorance is bliss they say.  (Last cliché), better to plan for the worst and expect the best…there are a lot of moving parts.  So there are still a few loose ends to tie up, but my circumstance has given us reason to have hard discussions.  Although they are uncomfortable I think it makes us stronger.  Ironically, I remember early in my courtship with Nita we used to sit by the fire and talk about everything (we thought).  We would sit on her couch and discuss everything in our future.  We would laugh and talk about where we might vacation, which bands we would drop everything to see, and how many children we might have.  It’s somewhat surreal that 13 years later we’re sitting on a couch planning my funeral.  Another reason to fight.