Well my dad has "a cancer"
And I suppose I want to write about it
I've just been to the chiropractor and
My beloved back ******* did something weird
Or I tensed as he heaved his mass
On top of my lower back to crack it
And now something in my right lower back dimple
Hurts
He collapsed on friday
Mom and I were home
It was a caustic flood of terror and dread
As we raced up the stairs
To find him
In the tub, unaware of himself
The screaming that ensued, the drag of the
Seizing, vomiting body to the floor
The wetness from his mouth
From his crotch where his body gave up its most basic functions as he left us for a while
Later he said he could still hear us
Screaming
I couldn't find my phone to call 911
I almost slipped on the stairs as I scrambled to the house phone
She was screaming "No! Estas vivo! Dios! Jesus! Estas vivo mi amor!"
She had her fingers in his mouth again
To keep him from choking on what was coming up
Even as his jaw tightened and his teeth closed down around her fingers
Later I saw blood on his lip where
His teeth had clenched down on her fingers
And caught the thin skin of his lip there
Blood and bile on the corner of his mouth
I remember one doctor we talked to
Said she shouldn't put her fingers in his mouth
I tried to pull them out
Her eyes bulged from behind her glasses
His eyes lolled, glossy and crossed
The foam across his lips, the limp body
The tightening mouth
I realized I needed to call 911
I ran for my phone but could not find it
I flew down the stairs, nearly slipping on my white socks
Screaming "No puedo encontrar mi telefono! Mi telefono! Perdón!"
I wondered if the extra seconds spent
Getting to the house phone
Would make or break his life span
As I shouted "perdón", I clocked the irrationality of that thought
Surprised that in this moment
I had the wherewithal to begin to blame myself
And to also dismiss the self-blame
I found the house phone and dialed
Sprinting back up the stairs
Her screams were even louder
I was screaming too,
Who knows if there were words in my screams
Nothing strikes horror into me
Like the sound of my mother's gritos
Terror, shrieking, demanding he live NOW
That he come back NOW
I don't properly know the words to describe how she sounded
I've never heard sounds like this
Screams like this
Ratcheting terror, acidic, piercing
It was not a wail,
Something in a wail has given up
This was a plea overflowing with fear and pain
While also a demand dressed in adoration and purest love
It was the sound of a child calling to her god
To save her one love
The sound of a wife demanding to her husband's
Earthly form that he STAY incarnate
The sound of a mother coaxing to the child still living in this man
Invoking each of his cells to come back to her
Calling him back from whatever ether
She could sense him disappearing to
He wasn't slipping away
He was seizing and foaming
There was no peace
It was maybe the fullest sound I've ever heard
I'm sure I'll hear it the rest of my life
Then I hear the 911 operator
Her tone condescending at the screaming
My screams were guttural
I have no idea what place those screams came from in me
I'm sure having my mother to mirror
Having her fullness to echo caused me to panic further
My body that once lived inside of hers
Heard that sound and nothing could be right
Everything was wrong
So I screamed and screamed,
Crying, guttural, shaking
The 911 operator said a few things and I heard her
I knew I could not speak kneeling there on the floor,
Everything in me, energy and body going out of myself
To these two who brought me to life
I leave the room and try to explain we need an ambulance
I tell her the address
Half way through the numbers
I hear my mother screaming again
And my numbers end in screams
I lean my forehead against the wall
I breathe slowly
And I explain the situation
Please send an ambulance
He's not conscious
Or is he?
I go back to the room
He is conscious
My mom is thanking god and holding his head
He is trying to brush her away
Feeling overwhelmed
He tells us he's going to stand up
My mother tells him no
He tries
I hold his arm and tell him no, you are not getting up
He says not to call an ambulance
My mother and I incredulous at his utter
Stupidity
The 911 operator tells us that he shouldn't move
He looks in my eyes and gives me his best death stare
I tell him no again
He stays on the floor and more vomiting begins
I grab a towel for him
It's not enough
My mother tells me to grab a plastic sort of square bucket thing from beneath a rocking chair nearby
I don't like that bucket though
And I don't think he would like it either
It's a weird color, a brand sticker has been ripped off of it, it looks cheap
So I go downstairs to grab a mug
The 911 operator has become more sympathetic to our plight
I suppose now that I am no longer screaming in her ear
The ambulance is on its way
I pick a large flowery mug with a funny base and a round middle
My mom says it's not big enough
I go downstairs again and grab a bowl this time
I take it up but it's not right either
My mom insists I get the square bucket thing from under the rocking chair
I do
It's right
I go back downstairs
The 911 operator says the ambulance is in the neighborhood now
I cry a bit as she soothes
I selfishly take this moment alone in the hallway by the front door
With the 911 operator on the line
Soothing tones and soft "yeah, I know, that's pretty scary stuff"'s
Wash over me and I cry again
Telling her this is the second time
She sees that on the file
Out of the porch window I see the ambulance, I let her know they are here
She wishes me a good day and hopes everything will be alright,
I hold her well wish in my heart as I open the front door for the paramedics
They go up the stairs and to the right
My parents and I are slight people, we are all under 5'6 and petite
These paramedics are so tall and large,
Equipment makes them even bulkier,
They fill the space so completely,
I don't want to go into the room,
I don't want to watch him dismiss my mother yet again
When yet again it was her who
Beseeched, demanded, begged, pleaded, created
With everything in her
For him
And he brushes her away with a swat
Of his large knuckled hand
He's an old white man
She's a youthful Latina woman
Wearing pajamas, red, swollen eyes,
Her accented voice filled with equal parts joy and suffering,
He's alive, but is he dying?
Frizzy hair in a low pony tail,
The paramedics follow his suit,
They want to dismiss her as well,
They downplay the seriousness,
He downplays,
They downplay,
And she sits beside him anyway,
I leave the room,
I pet my cat,
I go downstairs to text the family group chat from my moms phone,
I still can't find mine,
My brothers are coming into town today
For dads birthday dinner tomorrow night
I text them them a brief synopsis,
I hear the paramedics upstairs joking around,
My mom is helping my dad change into other pants
In the bedroom,
They carry him down the stairs in a chair,
They take him outside to put him in a stretcher,
I say "I love you", he waves
I go upstairs to check on mom
She will be in a frenzy trying to decide what to wear to the emergency room
I tell her to put on sneakers
And that the hoody she had on was just fine
She is beyond frazzled
She has to change her underwear and get new pants too
I stand just outside the bathroom door
She puts on the hoody
Then throws it to the bed with the dramatic flare of whatever panic attack she is stiffling
I demand she put on the hoody
Grab her purse and go downstairs now
He needs to go to the emergency room now
And she needs to go with them,
She obeys
She leaves the house
The ambulances leave the house
Mercifully, I am alone
I clean up the vomity things
I wash the dishes
I put clothes in the wash
At some point in the madness my mom told me
To turn off the grill
There was a brisket there
And it shouldn't burn
I go back to the meat
I can't turn the grill back on
I try the same useless technique for several minutes
Savoring the crisp air
I feel a bit selfish again
Wondering if there's something else vital I should doing
But I realize that no
There is nothing more to do
I let a few juicy self-pity thoughts soothe me
I'm just a child (I am 29)
I shouldn't be cleaning up my parents ***** soaked pants
Calling 911
Cleaning his bile from a hideous square bucket thing
Then I realize of course
I am 29
My dad is 80
This is what happens
Sometimes
Later at the hospital
They did some things they needed to do for him
He fainted from low blood sugar
He had been starving for a month or more
A growth in his esophagus
Not allowing food, water, even saliva to go down to his stomach
He had lost nearly 30 pounds in three months
He refused to go to the doctor earlier
In these three months,
Refused to be urgent when he spoke to the nurses or doctors
Refused to heed us that he needed to be seen immediately
But finally even his body could not resist his ego's need
To be okay,
And his body did what it needed to do,
To get the help it needed,
His body sent his mind away,
So that we might help his body,
Because he would not.
Now 6 days later I'm sitting in a Barnes and Noble writing this out
He's been released from the hospital,
He is home and eating again thanks to a stent in his esophagus
Next week there is a meeting with
The very nice oncologist
Today there was meant to be another procedure
But it got cancelled because of the stent
I am waiting on a call from the oncologist
Apparently she called us several times to let us know that the appointment was cancelled
But no one received any calls
I wonder what number she has been calling
We got up early this morning and went to the hospital
He didn't eat anything all morning and spent unnecessary energy walking around
He needs every pound he can get
But I breathe slowly
I can smell my charcoal and lavender deodorant
It's actually really soothing
Party in the USA is playing
I'm having a pistachio late
And right now, everything is okay
He is at home, eating some soup or something
Having a protein shake
He is stable and okay
It's all okay now
But it wasn't okay then
At all
And now it is okay
Which is hard to accept right now
I am exhausted.
