Cell Phone Trajectory

I rarely lose my temper and thus have never thrown something in anger. I've been tempted, oh, I've so been tempted but so far have resisted any urges. Last night was the acid test of my resistance. I very nearly hucked my cell phone across the property.

Luckily, pragmatism kicks in and the little voice tells me, just in time:
"You'll just have to go find it before the dogs do and if it's broken then you're going to be More Pissed than before so just go imagine snicking kittens and punting baby bunnies instead. And, oh, go call your brother and piss him off too."

What precipitated this, you ask? Pull. Up. A. Chair. This is a whopper. As Kevin says "I can't make this sh*t up."

The Other Brother took my parents to the final oncologist appointment at the University of Washington Cancer Care Hospital. This was the final diagnosis for my dad. For those of you just joining us: my dad has liver, kidney, lung and most likely brain cancer. It began as colon cancer so you can see where this is going.

First off, Brother had the same experience as I did with my parents as I did save my Dad falling in the driveway; the parents weren't ready, bickered, passive-aggressive behavior, etc. So fun was had by all.

Anyway...

The oncologist finally called it. He gave a range of weeks to months left for my dad's life. At the rate of the cancer growth, the liver enzyme level and his white blood cell count, it is simply a matter of time. And little time at that.
They didn't think that pursuing any further treatment is necessary or possible. In fact, they felt that any further treatment would probably kill him. He did mention that Dad could try the low-level chemo pill in attempt to prolong his life but even then the time would be very little.

So sad, yes but not unexpected and frankly a little relieving as his regular oncologist - according to the parents - is all wine and roses and refuses to give any sort of diagnosis or timeline. (thank you litigious lawyers and families)

Brother phoned me and said "This is it. If you have anything to say, anything to resolve now is the time." This clarity is UNHEARD of from the Other Brother (he's usually an ignore it until you can't ignore it anymore kind of guy) so Wow, it's Time.

I phoned Brother Dear and let him know. He was in the same camp as me: partially relieved and kicking into "Okay, here we go" mode.

Neither of us called our parents that day because they never want to talk the day of a doctor's appointment. I think they create their alibi and practice for a full 24 hours before talking to any of us.

Finally I called my mom last night before we left for dinner.

She stage whispers:
The ((PINHEAD, Small Town)) oncologist doesn't agree with the ((Nationally Recognized University of Washington Cutting Edge)) Oncologist and he says Dad has at least a year and it will be six months until "he exhibits symptoms".

Wait, what?


In the same breath she tells me he has a bladder infection, is running a temp, only wants to sleep, and is "coughing stuff up and they don't know what it is. They're running tests and when they know they'll put him on the right medicine. Oh, and they're putting him on Avastin and after they treat all of that, he should be feeling really good again."

I SWEAR TO GOD THIS IS TRUE, SHE ACTUALLY SAID THIS.

Yeah.

The sky is Green in my mother's world.

Brother Dear actually busted out laughing when I told him about our conversation. Because, really, what can you do at this point?

He interjected loudly at the part of "he's coughing up stuff":
"Do you think it might be a TUMOR?"

Black humor = Survival in this family.

At this point of the conversation with my mother I am actually envisioning myself chucking my phone out into the yard as far as I can throw it and hearing my mom's delusions fade into the distance as the phone disappears into the trees. The mental image is enough to keep me from throwing it.

So, I'm sad but then I feel guilty because a part of me just wants this over with and then I get mad at my mom (not that she's aware) because she refuses to even glance in the direction of the truth, let alone make eye contact with it.

I'm sure all of the above is normal though....well, with the exception of the sky being green.