overtherainbow

I know exactly how you feel. My family brought out the Christmas decorations this weekend and I stayed away as much as possible. I took one look at the boxes and stockings and the tree on Sunday and burst into tears - I couldn't even see something holiday-related without thinking about my dad. It's gotten easier with each day to be around all this stuff but I definitely am not having a holly, jolly Christmas this year. I just can't get excited about it.

My father did the same thing. I think part of it was trying to hold on to some sense of control over the disease by minimizing the negatives and highlighting the positives whenever anyone called or came by to check in. In private with certain people he was very honest about his fears. Our biggest concern was that he would be in denial and not do the things he said were most important to him.

I agree that it could be a lot of things but also know that if it is time to start thinking about end-of-life care, your dad doesn't have to go to a hospice facility to receive hospice care. You can get the help you need and the care your father needs in the comfort of his own home.

Hi Leslie, The worst part of going back to work for me was the anticipation. I absolutely dreaded the thought of being back there, although my co-workers and supervisor was so incredibly caring throughout the whole journey (most of them came to Dad's memorial). I just had to put myself on auto-pilot to make the drive, took a deep breath and opened the door. After the initial hugs and "How are yous?" people pretty much left me alone. And even though I welcomed the concern, I was relieved when it stopped. If you find after some time that it still doesn't feel right, maybe part of the problem is the job after all. But give it a shot and see how it goes. You may find that it becomes a welcome distraction to just get back into work mode. Good luck - I'll be thinking of you tomorrow morning...

Leslie and Adrian, Wow, what an incredible journey. I am so sad for your loss and yet glad that your father passed on his own terms, when he was ready. The hardest part comes after the memorial service when everyone has gone home. We're here when the quiet becomes too much...

Dad had 6 cycles of his first phase of chemo and we were told the same thing...that is the standard for his combination of meds and his type of cancer (NSCLC). Apparently after that the drugs can't do much and the toxicity builds up your body - they start to do more harm than good (just as Ned pointed out). After 6 rounds they give your body a rest for a few weeks and scan to evaluate whether you can take a longer break or need to try something else.

Adrian and Leslie, I'm incredibly sorry to hear about your loss. Your post was so touching...I am glad to hear that when it did happen, you were all at peace. That is a blessing.

So my mom made an appointment for her, my sister and I to go for counseling with my Dad's friend and colleague who works with families of cancer patients. I opted not to go at the last minute. 'Probably shouldn't have done that and I'm not quite sure why I did. Just the more I thought about going to talk about it, the less I wanted to do so. Part of it is that I'm not quite ready to go there, especially at the tail-end of a very intense week. My brother reminded me that yesterday was the five-year anniversary of putting our beloved family dog to sleep. So we have my birthday, Halloween and Kenzie's death three days in a row. I think if someone asked me a question about how I'm doing today, I would scream. Or cry. Or both. Either way, I'm just not ready. My greatest strength and my greatest weakness is my fierce independence. I take care of myself. That's what I do. But sometimes I don't know when it's time to ask someone to take care of me. "Help" does not seem to be in my vocabulary. But I'm not as strong as I make myself look. I've got issues too. The other concern is that going to her feels a bit too close for comfort. If I'm going to counseling, I'd rather go to someone I don't know. I'd rather go to address all of my "things" (as Meredith Grey would put it). I don't think I could talk to her about the many layers that make up my grief, or about the many things I am grieving. I'm all for going to someone I know OF, whose reputation tells me that I will be helped, but I just don't know. I'd rather start fresh. There is a lot of ground to cover.

My amazing father - "Dougie". This was his favorite time of the year!

I'm so, so sorry Rochelle. You've been such a source of strength for people here - draw that strength from us whenever you need it. My thoughts are with you and your children...

I was living in North Carolina at the time of my Dad's diagnosis and my entire family was in CA. I was all set to start at Duke nursing school. But the further we got into dad's treatments and the more I traveled home to steal time, the more I realized that I needed to be there for good. So I deferred at Duke and moved home and had 2 1/2 amazing months before Dad passed. I was able to live with my folks and got a job nearby that was extremely flexible (I still had a mortgage back in NC so the bills had to get paid). It was a drastic decision but looking back I am SO glad I made it. I would not have done anything differently. My dad's friend, a cancer support psychologist, gave us the concept of "windows". She said you have a window of opportunity to live life to the fullest and with cancer you don't know how long it will last. So make decisions as though you have one day left...if time is limited you'll have no regrets and if you get more time than you thought, you'll have a host of wonderful memories! Dad's window was 6 months long and I got to be there. Despite the pain and the grief, coming home was the right choice. We all have different circumstances but I think when and where possible, we should take advantage of the precious gift of time.

I would echo that there is no such thing as normal with cancer. That being said, you should definitely demand that more be done to relieve your mom's pain. If her oncologist isn't stepping up, request a referral from a pain specialist, particularly a palliative care specialist. Sometimes it takes a particular med to do the trick but they should not stop trying until they've found something that works. Just be aware that the higher the dose of any narcotic pain relief the more likely that your mom will be "out of it" for longer periods. It can also have an effect on her breathing so you may want to ask about oxygen.

Debi, All I can do is echo what everyone else has said. You have been a true inspiration to so many of us in this community. My daddy didn't make it 2 1/2 years but he sure wanted to and he drew strength from these message boards and from stories like your Tony's ... I don't think he ever posted himself but he was reading vigilantly. It gave him so much hope to see that Stage IV LC could be fought and hope is what he needed to get through the worst days. I've wondered myself whether I would want to come back but I find myself drawn here even more often then before. We are all family now. Our roles and perspectives may change, but the support and love are unconditional.

Candy, I know the feeling of replaying the final months in your head. The memories that are sticking with me are of the not-fun variety and I can't seem to get past them to the more fond memories. Even when I look at pictures from enjoyable times, it's like the chemo infusions, hospital visits, and doctors' appointments are playing on a constant loop. My sister can't even watch "Grey's Anatomy" without seeing something that reminds her of Dad's journey and getting really angry. But this is the place to talk about it... This is the place where everyone understands and that is comforting in itself.

Bobby, I am so very sorry to hear this. That is all I can really say. Your love for your sister was inspiring....

I'm no doctor but it seems to me that your mom should be on something stronger than naproxen. There are a lot of options and if your mom has a port, they may be able to give her meds intravenously that she can control with a PCA (patient-controlled analgesia) if she is in such severe pain. My dad saw a pain specialist and he wasn't much help but the palliative care folks stuck with IV morphine and that did the trick most of the time. Other drugs to ask about are Dilaudid and MSContin. The drawback to the stronger drugs is that your mom would be pretty heavily sedated most of the time. There are a lot of factors to weigh and again, I'm not a health professional, but speaking from experience, hopefully knowing drug names will give you a place to start with the doctor.

I am so sorry for your loss. Dolphins ... what a wonder! It's amazing that even in our deepest grieving, tehre are beautiful moments to be thankful for.

I'm so sorry to hear about your loss. Losing a father is devastating...my dad was my "rock." I hope you will post here as often as you need to.

You could try IV Dilaudid...my dad had that for a while and it really helped him. He was able to get it on a PCA just like morphine. A non-IV option (besides pills which a lot of people have already suggested) might be a Fentanyl transdermal patch; those are pretty good for breakthrough pain.

October 16th ... my dad should be turning 57 today. So young and so much life yet to be lived. We will visit his grave site for a while this afternoon and then his best friends are throwing a big fish fry birthday party for him. My sister and I are making his famous guacamole. The guest of honor will certainly be there in spirit. Fall was Dad's favorite time of the year. This is only the first of many difficult days to come.

I'm so sorry to hear this. Your posts were always so comforting to me and many others in this community. We are all sending love your way.

Bobby, I'm glad your sister is out of the hospital - it always feels better to be home. I would recommend checking to see if any hospitals in your area have a home health palliative care program. That is what my dad used. He had an incredible team of pain specialist doctors and nurses to manage his pain and other symptoms but he could still receive chemo and fight the cancer through his oncologist, who was still his primary doctor. The home health agency helped us get equipment like hospital beds and commodes, and also arranged for all of his pain meds to be delivered directly to the front door. The nurse came at least three or four times a week, more often when needed. It was the best thing that happened to our family. If your sister is feeling weak you might also ask about TPN - total parenteral nutrition. It gives you the calories you need to keep from wasting when appetite is poor. 'Hope this helps! All the best to you and your sister. I know the uncertainty of how much time you have is hard but treasure every moment you do have.

Donna, I am so sorry to hear this. Keep posting here whenever you need to - you will find it to be an enormous comfort in the coming weeks. I know the feeling of being relieved that your loved one is finally at peace but still desperately wanting them to still be here. We're all here...

Thank you all for your posts and PMs over the past week - this site has sustained me more than I can ever express. Dad's burial and memorial service were yesterday and he was there, no doubt about it. We had him cremated as requested and laid him to rest with his own father who passed away 10 years ago. A small graveside tribute with just family...it was beautiful. Then we went on to the church for an incredibly moving memorial - over 500 people in attendance, all of whom had been touched by my father. Patients, friends, colleagues and family all brought together by this incredible man. His college friend eulogized him as a great big puppy dog full of love, and that pretty much sums up Dad to a tee. The three of us and mom all had a chance to say a few words and I was just so moved by the love in that sanctuary. Aunt and uncle hosted a beautiful reception afterwards and everyone seemed to come. I had thought I would feel anti-social and stay away, but I actually ended up enjoying myself. We all swapped "Dougie stories" and looked at pictures and drank wine and ate good food, just as Dad would have wanted. We joked that were he there, he would have found the nearest couch and taken a nap, even in the middle of the party. So today we start figuring out how to make life go on. This is going to be the hardest part. "Normal" no longer applies.

Apologies for the length but I wanted to go ahead and post the obituary we ran in our local paper. My mother wrote it and it was just beautiful. Dad's burial is tomorrow morning - he was cremated and we will lay him to rest in the same plot as his own father. They were very close and this way neither of them have to be alone. Then we go straight to the memorial service. I'm exhausted just thinking about it. Douglas Eli Harrington, October 16, 1950 to September 26, 2007 Dougie passed on after battling lung cancer for six months. We are left with trying to understand how such a beautiful man who still had so much to give was taken from those who loved him dearly. We so want to try to convey to you all the depth of our emotion and loss and to share with you his many gifts. It is a hard task. Dougie grew up in Southern California in a loving family of four boys. He was an athlete, a scholar, and a leader throughout. He had many fond memories and friends from his years at Claremont McKenna College and went on to finish his education at USC with a doctorate in psychology. He was a practicing neuropsychologist specializing in patients with traumatic brain injury and sports concussion. He loved his work and his patients and had a tremendous impact on his field. He accepted positions of leadership within professional organizations and loved to teach those entering the field. Saying good-bye to his patients these last few months was painful. The essence of Dougie was expressed best through his love for his family. He leaves behind his two brothers and their wives, Bruce and Nancy Harrington and Ron and Susie Harrington. He is pre-deceased by his parents, Roger and Phyllis Harrington, and his younger brother and sister-in-law, Keith and Patty Harrington. His extended family of his mother and father in-law, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, and nephews hold his memory dear. His wife Karen is so grateful for 30 years of marriage to this amazing husband and father who showed his love daily. His three children, Kristine, Kayley, and Thomas will always remember his deep affection and will carry his passion for them and their pursuits always. His children (and many others in this community) had the benefit of soccer, baseball, and basketball coaching, his leadership in Indian Princesses and Guides, and his support of Newport Harbor High School. Twice he served as President of the NHHS Navigators, and focused on enriching the high school experience for all students. He brought his professional expertise to the school by volunteering sports concussion testing for the athletic program. His love of sports and his professional life came together again through his affiliation as a consulting neuropsychologist for the Anaheim Ducks Hockey Team, of which he was a huge fan. To his family and friends, the Stanley Cup triumph last season was a personal win for Doug. When he was well enough, he and Thomas were cheering them on at the Honda Center, and throughout the playoffs they kept a personal shrine to the team. Dougie lived in the Newport community for 28 years, half of his too short life. He will be missed by so many who cherished his friendship. He was a great chef and loved to cook and entertain with his friends. He woke up with a smile on his face that was infectious and started all of our days so positively. He was a superb dancer. He loved to travel with his friends and family. He was a man of tradition that made every birthday and holiday so special. We know that as the pain of our loss recedes it will be replaced by wonderful memories that we all will carry forward and share for many years. Throughout his illness, he felt surrounded by love and caring from so many. Thank you for your notes, flowers, music, food, visits, and genuine affection. It sustained us all throughout. You are all invited to say good-bye and share his life on Saturday, October 6, at 11:00 a.m. at St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church, 600 St. Andrews Road, Newport Beach, CA 92663. In lieu of flowers, Dougie wanted to be remembered through gifts to the following organizations: Share Our Selves, 1550 Superior Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92627; Center for Cancer Counseling, 1000 Quail St, #187, Newport Beach, CA 92660; or the Brain Injury Association, 1608 Spring Hill Road, #110, Vienna, VA 22182. [/img]