How's Your Dad?

Let me say at the outset that I deeply appreciate the hearts of those who ask me how my Dad is doing after surgery.  This has been a very difficult season for our family, and one that isn't likely to get better soon.  But it is hard replaying the same conversation over and over every time someone asks the question.  It feels rather unfair to me that those who ask it tomorrow are likely to get a severely truncated version following my being peppered with the question at a birthday party I attended tonight at church.  So for those who care enough to read this blog, let me answer the question here.

Two months ago or so, my Dad had a skin cancer removed.  The immunosuppressive drugs he has been on have made him particularly susceptible, so this wasn't terribly surprising.  But when they realized this particular cancer was a melanoma, it was suddenly much more serious.  He went to UVA to have it removed, and they thought they got it all.  This was until a routine CAT scan about a month later that he gets annually since he had a lung transplant in 2005.  The scan showed four tumors in his original lung, ranging from golf ball to nearly baseball sized.  After doing several other tests, including an MRI on his skull, doctors concluded that the majority of the cancer was in the lung.  Although it was an aggressive approach, they felt they could maximize his chances for long-term survival by removing the lung.

The surgery went as well as anyone could hope.  They removed the lung and the lymph nodes they identified as cancerous on the PET scan.  But, the surgeon cautioned, we need to realize they know he still has lymphoma since these were metastases from another location.  Currently they are in a tug of war.  The immunosuppressive drugs are necessary for life.  Even after this amount of time, if he stopped taking them, his life would be in danger within mere weeks.  But they also suppress his body's natural ability to fight disease, including cancer.  So, Dr. Kandahar explained, if there is anything Dad wants to do, he should do it.

I heard these words loud and clear, but I'm not certain the rest of my family heard the same thing I did.  I spent the next three days in the hospital room with Dad.  He had a few complications, most notably involving his ability to swallow.  Even now he cannot drink liquid without risking it going straight into his lungs.  He also had some dementia that set in during his time in the stepdown unit.  This was worse during his lung transplant surgery, but was still quite unnerving for all of us who love him and care about what he has to say.  It is a scary thing to see someone you love not know what they're saying.

So, how's my Dad?  Well, he's walking more now and seems to be on the mend in the short term.  His return home isn't imminent since they won't be sending him home with an IV in.  But at least there is measurable progress.  In the meantime, I feel like once he does get out, I'll just be waiting for either a miracle, or for the other shoe to drop.  I don't want to live with regrets because I waited too long, but I also would prefer not to live this entire year as a gloom and doom alarmist waiting for a tragic phone call.

My Dad is fine by the only measure that matters.  I'm convinced he knows the Lord and we'll spend eternity together.  But in the meantime, I'll be seeking the Lord's wisdom about how to best handle this uncertain length of time we have together on this side of eternity.  But as I've been powerfully reminded many times in various ways -- who knows whether he may outlive me?  None of us have any guarantees.