My Dad

Oh boy, he is having a rough rough time now. He spends most of the time sleeping, and although I went through all the chemo crap, I forgot how much things can change day to day. I think it is like giving birth. Right after Claire was born (which was a hard hard delivery) I thought that I would never do it again. I thought the memory of the pain of that delivery would make it impossible to even think about giving birth ever again. 18 months later I did it again.

I feel like time is slipping away and there is nothing that can be done about it. I have a hard time concentrating on things and I know that I am not as pleasant to be around right now. There's a part of me that just wants to be alone for a while, to be able to digest all that is going on, but that is not within the bounds of reality. I still have work, the girls still have school and daycare, there's still snow to be shoveled, laundry to be done and a house in need of cleaning. The world does not, and will not, stop because I want it to.

I look back a few years ago at how my life was, how I felt, how I was dealing with things. Sometimes I am embarassed at the thoughts that went through my mind. Embarassed at the fears I had of my life. The doubts I had every time my doctor said that he was fairly sure that I was done with breast cancer. I look at what my dad is going through and find that it is nothing like what I went through. I was lucky. He is not.

I find myself being torn between my two families. I want to spend as much time with my parents that I can, but in doing so I miss out on my family at home. Things start slipping, like the laundry and cleaning. I know they will always be waiting for me, but with 5 people living in this house it adds up fast.

I know this post isn't flowing quite as well as it should as I am just writing things as they pop into my head. I don't really care much. Sometimes, for a moment or two, I forget that my dad is dying. Those are very limited moments. I find that things that normally wouldn't bother me too much are grating on my nerves, whatever is left of my nerves. I feel like I am so impatient with other things in my life, that it almost isn't fair to others. But then, on the other hand, I really don't care about that. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but guess what? I don't care about that either. That's a lot of not caring and as I re-read what I write, I better start changing things before I make it impossible for others to be around me. But then again, maybe I won't. I have to keep my priorities where they should be, but at the same time understand that there are other things going on in my life. Yuck. This sucks.