Tuesday

I am glad I've made it to this point on this day of this week of this month.  Tonight was the last night of one of my doctoral classes.  Mondays and Tuesdays this entire semester I've been at work at 7-ish a.m. and in class teaching or as a student all day until 8:30 p.m.  I'm exhausted mentally and physically and feel a panic attack just under the surface. That's actually why I'm here writing now.  To talk myself back from the ledge. 

How on earth are you doing this?  That's what my peers are asking me.  I suppose being pragmatic is the way I'm doing it.  Just doing what has to be done.  So working full time with the long hours nights and weekends teaching anywhere for anyone who will sign a contract.  Trying my hardest to get through 2 doctoral classes each semester.  And this semester getting slammed with doctoral level inferential statistics.  I was earning a B until October 1 when Dad first collapsed.  It's been a downward spiral for him and my grade ever since.

The class that ended tonight was the easier of the 2.  Yes, I have one final paper that is due in a week.  But that is one I can do my in sleep.  But this stats class and research project is massive. My topic?  It's quite entertaining if only I had time to laugh:   Statistically similarities between those who attend church weekly and those who do not attend church weekly as it pertains to sexual behavior as a thrill-seeking activity.  I kid you not.  Crazy!  I'd be enjoying it if I didn't have my parents lives in shambles right now.

So the update on them.  Today Dad was to have another needle biopsy.  Lori and I arrived early to be with him.  He refused to have the procedure because the 2 tries last week caused his lung to collapse. He's not interested in going through that again.  The nurse left for us to have "private time to discuss the decision" which I took it to mean, hey look -- this is serious crap we're talking about now.  So Lori and I had Dad call Mom to tell her his decision.  His eyes got misty and his mouth was down-turned on both corners.  I believe if we weren't there he'd have cried.  But I understand his point. Mom suggested going to other hospitals and searching for a doc that could do something.  But Dad reminded her that it isn't the doc's but his lungs that can't hold out.   As soon as he was off the phone, he was at peace with the decision.

I asked him a couple of times if he was certain.  I told him I didn't want him to have buyer's remorse in a few weeks not having a proper diagnosis.  He said he understood.  He also said something along the lines that he could be around a couple of more years and be better than if he was going through chemo or radiation or he could be gone more quickly.  But the less suffering for him the better.  I have to agree.

So Lori needed to breathe by this point. So she headed to Waffle House to pick up a breakfast order for him.  I found the number, plugged it into his phone, and he called and placed his order.   Lori said that when she arrived, his friends and the staff gathered around for an update on Dad.  They wouldn't let her pay for the food and sent a cup of coffee along as well -- a cup that had sweet get well wishes and hearts drawn on it.  Oh, my Daddy is a love man!   He was so happy to see the food and hear about his friends. 

I noticed at one point he was tapping his fingers on the table.  Drumming them sort of.  I asked if he was ok or nervous or relieved.  He said relieved... that he felt at peace with his decision.  And so it is.  He has peace tonight. 

Tomorrow they will clamp the chest tube in the morning.  Then in the afternoon take a chest x-ray.  Then maybe tomorrow night he can go home -- or at least by Thursday morning. 

Mom is at a loss.  This is her life long best friend we're talking about.  I feel so bad for the 2 of them.  Now I really mean my blog's title -- the part about sloppy joes.  I hate this stuff.  I buried so many people when I was in HR.  I was at the hospital when people turned off machines.  I helped grieving families arrange funerals for children who had died.  I attended cremations.  But I am not ready for this. 

Does it make it worse that I am struggling in my doctoral program?  I'm not sure.  I'm numb all the way around.  But in a way, each horrible path gives me a brief respite from the other.  Regardless of what happens, the world will go on even if I don't.  Even when I don't.  Right now, at 11:27 p.m., I wish I was with either my Mom or Dad right now.  I feel like a 6 year old who is afraid of the dark.  I'm a control freak and I have no control.