Wear Eye Bin; Dad Update

I’ve been away from this thing for a while. No earth-shattering reasons or a desire to be free from making my petty arguments and pointless observations in a public forum. The simple answer is that I was on the road.

Down Mexico Way
Now, before anyone groans with envy when I mention that I was twelve days in Cancun, let me throw cold water on that shade of green by saying first that those days were spent working for a client so dysfunctional it makes the company I work for look like the poster child for organization and employee satisfaction! Second, because of the subject of my first point, almost every last minute of each day was consumed by our combined efforts to please every last-minute whim and eleventh hour crisis of said dysfunctional client.

Over the course of the twelve days I had one day free, during which I slept in ‘til about 9:00, and lounged by the pool until daylight waned. Then two co-workers and I went into Cancun's party zone and watched the Spring Break college students attempt to drain the city of its alcohol supply. They had a little help from us, as well.

Then it was back into the fray of disorganized, ill-informed, shoot-from-the-hip, lead-by-committee decisions made and then changed at the last minute back to the original plan only to realize that neither plan was a good one. Not to mention the client lead whose fear of appearing to lack the respect of her peers and charges got in the way of performing her job effectively. Nor to mention that they seemed to forget that their staging and video crew (us!) were not automatons with no need for food or breaks or sleep. I had just enough time each evening to check e-mails and respond to only a few, and absolutely no energy to blog.

I’ve never wanted to leave paradise for the wintry climes of home so badly, despite my lonely existence!

I was originally booked to leave Cancun and fly directly to San Francisco for three more days, but upon receiving word that my father’s health has taken a decisive turn for the worse, I advised my employer to prepare to cover for me should I have to leave San Francisco suddenly to get home to the family. My employer thought it better to replace me before the start of the San Francisco leg of my trip and let me go home Sunday instead.

Being that I was responsible for carrying editing equipment from the meeting in Cancun to the convention in San Francisco, and that the better plan of getting it into the hands of my replacement came after said replacement’s flight was booked, I wound up traveling Sunday from Cancun to Dallas, where I cleared Customs and Immigration, then to San Francisco where I met my replacement at the airport and handed the editing gear to him, and then back on a plane to Chicago. I left my hotel in Cancun at 4:30am, and arrived home to my apartment around 1:00am. My day would have been so much better had I thought in time to have the other guy’s flight routed through Dallas as well. But then I may have had luggage issues. Who knows?

Dad Update
The cancer has likely spread; to where, exactly, we don’t know. The evidence of further tumor growth in his lung is in recent x-rays taken, and in my father’s complaint that he hurts everywhere. He has stopped eating and has refused his favorite snack, cheese (no, his name is NOT “Curly!”). The two youngest of my sisters, who have taken on most of the responsibility and burden of seeing to his care since he went to the hospital last March, have arranged for him to go into hospice. We’re assured that every effort will be made to keep him comfortable and free from pain. He is conscious and aware, though perpetually tired. Accordingly, he sleeps a lot.

When his doctors first assessed his lung cancer, they told us he had maybe a year. It has been that long, and it looks as if they may not have been too far off in their estimate.

When my mother passed in 1993 (an event I have not yet shared here), she went fairly quickly, displaying symptoms of a “slow-burn” cerebral hemorrhage on a Thursday, and passing away on the following Sunday morning. It’s different with my father. We’ve watched him decline slowly in his old age, especially since his neuropathies became pronounced and made his work as a barber physically difficult. It became evident last March that he had had a series of mini-strokes, and his use of his left hand and leg have slowly ebbed away.

And now, in the past two weeks, he has taken a more drastic downward turn.

In this situation I thought I could prepare myself for his final moments, knowing that his life is essentially over but for the dying. But as he enters what is truly his final countdown of weeks and days, of heartbeats and breaths, I realize the final moment will hit me as hard as if he had dropped dead an otherwise healthy man. While his eyes are open and aware, and while air still passes into and out of his lungs, it’s a damn cruel joke of human nature that I still hold hope for some sort of recovery, for I cannot bear the thought of living without him being somewhere I can visit him and talk to him and hug him and tell him that I love him.

My sister tells me that he is not quite yet at death’s door, so he may have several more months left with us. This doesn’t exactly make me feel better, either for me or for him.

I will continue to update.