I've been avoiding writing this for a while now. I don't know how to word exactly what I want to say, but I have a million thoughts. I want to say how scared I am, how weak I feel, how lost this makes me. All I've been able to do is pretend it's not happening, but when reality calls I turn into a heap of tears and unintelligible noises.
My father's battle with cancer started last October. It was jarring- I had been working on set 7 days a week at the time, and I had just calmed down from the news of my mother's emergency heart surgery. As soon as my mom was through her recovery and I had wrapped on set, I packed everything up and drove the 3,218 miles back to my hometown. I thought I could handle it, I thought everything would be fine once I got there and I was with him. Unfortunately, the desperation that had been building up in me quickly turned into a crippling depression.
His hair was gone from all the chemo. We had the same hair color, me and my dad. I forgot that for a long time, until I saw that it was no longer there. I cursed myself for dying my stupid hair black for years. I just wanted my dark brown hair back. I wanted his dark brown hair back.
His appetite was gone; all the medication he was on made him sick. We hadn't had a Sunday barbecue in over 10 years, but for some reason I never gave up hope that there would be another one. The generic frozen dinners that sat idly in the freezer shot down the hopes of seeing my father lecturing my uncle about proper barbecue etiquette ever again.
But he never gave up. He was weak, he was tired, but he never gave up. He never lost the prideful, stubborn attitude he is notorious for. He drove himself everywhere, refusing help from anyone. His sense of humor was still in tact, and his love for good deals at the grocery store I think will always hold strong. Seeing remnants of the man I looked up to my whole life is the only reason I'm still here right now.
The cancer fell dormant after 5 months- no reasonable explanation from the #1 cancer hospital in America, aside from a shrug and a PET scan. So I came back to LA to get back to work, to get back with my derby team I love so much, and to try to give my father the space back that he enjoyed having.
A few weeks ago, I found out the cancer had come back- 4 months ago. The pride and stubbornness had gone too far. He refuses to tell anyone what's going on until it's almost too late. The stage 3 cancer in his lungs is now accompanied by a tumor resting on his vocal chords, 10 centimeters big. I can't hear the voice of reason, or the gruff Brooklyn accent at all anymore. He has such a sense of humor about having cancer- it kept his spirits up and it kept the hope alive in my heart.
He's not joking anymore.
Everything he taught me- being independent, strong, sensible- is falling apart. I don't know how to hold myself together anymore. People that have come and go in my life have made me feel disposable, worthless. More people than I care to admit, actually. They mattered for about as long as it took my father to answer the phone and remind me whose daughter I was. Dads are known for treating their daughters like princesses- my dad treated me like a diamond. I was the brightest, the prettiest. He protected me and was proud of anything I did. I always looked forward to the day he would accept another person in my life that would see me as a diamond too.
Tomorrow starts another very painful chapter in my life- I'm praying as hard as I can that it's not a chapter of goodbyes. My dad is weak right now, and trying to give up the fight. I can't handle seeing my best friend in this state, and I'm going to do everything I can the next couple of weeks to keep a smile on my dad's face and his passion to fight alive, even if it means draining myself of all emotional, mental, and physical energy.
Lately, my independence has been feeding off this strange feeling that I might be "bothering" someone. I won't call, I won't text, I won't go out, because I'm afraid I'm bothering a person or group of people. This year has been so horrifying, and I can't do it alone anymore. My close friends have been pushing to be closer to me, and I'm going to stop pushing back.
Any and all positive energy, good thoughts, or prayers to whoever you believe in are greatly accepted right now. Please keep me, my dad, and my family in your thoughts.
My love is unconditional for the people that have been there for me lately. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I couldn't say it enough if I tried.
Cara
My father's battle with cancer started last October. It was jarring- I had been working on set 7 days a week at the time, and I had just calmed down from the news of my mother's emergency heart surgery. As soon as my mom was through her recovery and I had wrapped on set, I packed everything up and drove the 3,218 miles back to my hometown. I thought I could handle it, I thought everything would be fine once I got there and I was with him. Unfortunately, the desperation that had been building up in me quickly turned into a crippling depression.
His hair was gone from all the chemo. We had the same hair color, me and my dad. I forgot that for a long time, until I saw that it was no longer there. I cursed myself for dying my stupid hair black for years. I just wanted my dark brown hair back. I wanted his dark brown hair back.
His appetite was gone; all the medication he was on made him sick. We hadn't had a Sunday barbecue in over 10 years, but for some reason I never gave up hope that there would be another one. The generic frozen dinners that sat idly in the freezer shot down the hopes of seeing my father lecturing my uncle about proper barbecue etiquette ever again.
But he never gave up. He was weak, he was tired, but he never gave up. He never lost the prideful, stubborn attitude he is notorious for. He drove himself everywhere, refusing help from anyone. His sense of humor was still in tact, and his love for good deals at the grocery store I think will always hold strong. Seeing remnants of the man I looked up to my whole life is the only reason I'm still here right now.
The cancer fell dormant after 5 months- no reasonable explanation from the #1 cancer hospital in America, aside from a shrug and a PET scan. So I came back to LA to get back to work, to get back with my derby team I love so much, and to try to give my father the space back that he enjoyed having.
A few weeks ago, I found out the cancer had come back- 4 months ago. The pride and stubbornness had gone too far. He refuses to tell anyone what's going on until it's almost too late. The stage 3 cancer in his lungs is now accompanied by a tumor resting on his vocal chords, 10 centimeters big. I can't hear the voice of reason, or the gruff Brooklyn accent at all anymore. He has such a sense of humor about having cancer- it kept his spirits up and it kept the hope alive in my heart.
He's not joking anymore.
Everything he taught me- being independent, strong, sensible- is falling apart. I don't know how to hold myself together anymore. People that have come and go in my life have made me feel disposable, worthless. More people than I care to admit, actually. They mattered for about as long as it took my father to answer the phone and remind me whose daughter I was. Dads are known for treating their daughters like princesses- my dad treated me like a diamond. I was the brightest, the prettiest. He protected me and was proud of anything I did. I always looked forward to the day he would accept another person in my life that would see me as a diamond too.
Tomorrow starts another very painful chapter in my life- I'm praying as hard as I can that it's not a chapter of goodbyes. My dad is weak right now, and trying to give up the fight. I can't handle seeing my best friend in this state, and I'm going to do everything I can the next couple of weeks to keep a smile on my dad's face and his passion to fight alive, even if it means draining myself of all emotional, mental, and physical energy.
Lately, my independence has been feeding off this strange feeling that I might be "bothering" someone. I won't call, I won't text, I won't go out, because I'm afraid I'm bothering a person or group of people. This year has been so horrifying, and I can't do it alone anymore. My close friends have been pushing to be closer to me, and I'm going to stop pushing back.
Any and all positive energy, good thoughts, or prayers to whoever you believe in are greatly accepted right now. Please keep me, my dad, and my family in your thoughts.
My love is unconditional for the people that have been there for me lately. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I couldn't say it enough if I tried.
Cara
