i'm ok. no, really. i am. i've had a long time to think about this. i was just overwhelmed for a moment, there.
it's mostly a coincidence that i'm skipping town almost exactly as my dad has given up. he fought as hard as he could. the truth is he never really had a chance. almost nobody survives brain cancer.
he stopped taking his meds last week, by conscious choice. the treatment was just overwhelming. over the last few hours, the paralysis has spread from his left side (the tumour is on the right side of his brain) to both sides of his body. he's likely to lose control of his face muscles while i'm gone this week, rendering him unable to speak, and possibly slip into a coma or die.
there's nothing of value that can be accomplished by me staying here this week and watching him die. all that can do is fuck me up. i could speak of many things right now regarding the nature of death, but the reality is that i do not believe any of them, nor do i believe they are of any consequence to a dead person. there is nothing at all of any consequence to a dead person, not even the fact that they are dead. i may wish it to come as painlessly as possible, but i know better. it's not even physical, but mental. yet, his mental state over the next few days is a temporary reality that only he has any real understanding of, and will not matter at all to any existing conscious being once he has passed.
such a state is devastating to contemplate. it's such an awful, gruesome way to die. seizures, treatment, surgery; slow paralysis, loss of speech, coma. i can only imagine the kind of fear that sets in as you slowly lose control of your ability to control your own muscles, as death slowly consumes your body. it must be like being eaten alive.
in truth, i don't want to imagine this kind of fear, especially in the mind of such a loved one. i want to move forwards.
we say goodbye to each other all of the time. it's reflexive. routine. meaningless, really.
sometimes the word actually means something. i couldn't handle saying it. i waited. that pause felt much longer than it was.
he said it first; a reflexive response. but it set me right off...
i'm ok. no, really, i am. the crying helped. but i think the music helped more.
