I haven't blogged lately because it is so hard to write the words I am about to write. Writing like running is therapeutic for me, so here we go: Bernie's dad has Stage IV Lung Cancer (Non-Small Cell with Malignant Pleural Effusion). He has been undergoing chemotherapy, not to cure the cancer (because he can't be cured) but in an attempt to slow the growth. It's worked in some spots, not so well in others. The chemo has done a number on him, making him weak and tired. The latest so-called side effect is respiratory failure. He is in ICU on a ventilator. He was having bronchial spasms that are similar to an asthma attack and his heart rate was out of control. Bernie in consultation with his dad (to the extent possible), his mother, and his brother had to make the very difficult decision to try this. The hope is that by allowing the machine to assist with his breathing and giving him a chance to rest, the spasms will stop and the vent can come out. We don't want him to spend whatever time he has left sedated in a hospital bed hooked up to a machine.
I probably sound mad. I am. I am livid. I hate that Ed is going through this. I hate that my husband is torturing himself with whether he made the right decision. He did. It was the only decision to make in that moment.
I'm doing my best to hold it all together (with what truly seems like Popsicle sticks and duct tape) for Bernie, and for the kids. I think I am doing ok for the most part, but I am human. Running is helping to the extent I can fit it in.
Cancer sucks.
Our friends have asked us what they can do to help. We could use some help with the kids so that Bernie can be at the hospital when I'm working. Thank you to those of you who are helping us this way.
Other ways you can help: if you smoke, please stop. If you are the praying kind, please keep Ed, and really his whole family in your prayers.
