It’s a small world

February 20, 2009

A co-worker of Pat’s named Mark had mentioned what we have been going through to another woman named Dottie, the building receptionist. Dottie wanted to speak to Pat about what dad has, so she met with her on the way into the building. When Dottie asked where Pat had gotten most of her information, she mentioned a website called brainhospice.com. Dottie had an odd, almost stunned look on her face.

She asked Pat to step around the desk to see the computer screen, having just pulled up that same website. Dottie said, “That’s my daughter” (authoring the website) and the website was about her husband.

Shortly after the surprising discovery, they shared a tearful embrace.


A few good days

February 14, 2009

Bill was lucky enough to enjoy a number of good days. Outside of his now normal drowsiness and lack of overall focus, he kept it together enough to help Pat participate in the annual Great Backyard Bird Count. It’s a tradition at the Gose household and even now they wouldn’t go without doing their part. Good weather was abundant during the bird watching on the 13th.

On the 14th, Bill slept for nearly 11 hours but felt pretty good by the time he woke up. The hours in which he dedicates to sleep are slowly increasing. He was a little shaky moving in and out of Pat’s car on their way for food in the afternoon, but it passed and he was moving on his own again. Given the circumstances, this Valentine’s Day turned out to be pretty enjoyable, feasting upon the goods offered up by Smokey Bones.


The first headache

February 11, 2009

Last night Bill experienced his first headache during the evening hours. It kept him up for most of the night and did not pass until later the next morning.


While there’s still time

January 30, 2009

After trying for several days, I finally found (or rather – made) the time to call home and talk to dad for a brief spell. It was during a lunch break on the ship. I walked out to my car and sat with the door open, letting the breeze cool me from the warm sun.

As we talked, he asked me if the ship was going out again anytime soon. He sounded almost confused as he asked, a certain fluttering tone about his voice made it hard to accept this was the same man who raised me. I kept my focus as best I could and made small talk for a few minutes.

His voice started to crackle and become faint after a short while. He was about to hand off the phone to mom again when I stopped him and asked for him to listen just a little bit more.

Me: “I know that time is against us now.”
Him: “Yeah, you’ve got that right…”
Me: “I just wanted to say that I hope I have done things to make you proud, and that I hope I keep doing things to make you proud, and that I love you and I hope I can see you again soon.”
Him: “That sounds good.”

He then passed off the phone to mom, barely able to mutter those last words to me. Later she told me that dad tends to lose his voice on the phone when he’s talking to someone he loves. While he never said it back, I know he does.

After I hung up I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.

In my 27 years, that was the first time I can remember ever telling dad that I loved him. After going over it so many times in my head and finally listening to my friend Adrienne’s advice, I told him what I needed to while there was still time.


Getting worse

January 29, 2009

This evening Bill was uncharacteristically tired. He sat in his recliner and slept more than normal, ignoring much of the recorded television show playing before him.

As the evening hours passed, Bill would occasionally rub his forehead with his eyes closed. He told Pat that his eyes are really bothering him, shaking his head from time to time in response to their changing condition. He said that it was not from a headache.

He had been trying to stay up later this evening. While he didn’t indicate his exact reason, we suspect it might be because I told mom I wanted to talk to him on the phone. There are things I want to say to him while I still have the chance. With work lasting as long as it has lately, getting home at a decent hour to make that phone call has been nearly impossible.

In order to use the bathroom, he had to be taken in a wheelchair. Once he made his way back to the living room and into his recliner Pat sat in his wheelchair to be at the same level. Pat spent the majority of the night sitting by him, holding his hand. It was not long until he was ready to make his way to bed.

We’re wondering if maybe this is the beginning of the end. I really hope not.


Scheduled visit

January 20, 2009

Today the doctor’s visit didn’t keep Bill waiting very long. The first question from the doctor was whether or not the chemotherapy had arrived as of yet. Pat informed him that Medco sent her a letter stating that the doctor’s office still needed to call them and authorize the medication before it would be sent to them. At that point Bill informed the doctor that he would not be seeking treatment, knowing how grave his situation is. The doctor was very surprised. Unsure whether or not Bill was being sincere, the doctor confirmed the decision with Pat. She told him that it was his life and his choice. Reassuring Bill that treatment would prolong his life, Bill still refused knowing it would only extend his outlook by a few months. The doctor accepted the decision, reluctantly I’m sure, and asked if there was anything he could do for them.

While Bill was not in any pain for the time being, the potential for it exists further along the line. Pat asked about pain medication when that time comes and the doctor said he would oblige. The doctor wants to start weening Bill off the Decadron medication to see if that helps with his muscle loss. If there are changes in his behavior then they will continue the regular dosage amount.

The doctor’s visit did not last long once Bill’s decision had been communicated. After that, Bill was in the mood for some McDonald’s and Pat happily took him to get some. He was able to walk in under his own power but by the time he had gotten home and finished eating, he was exhausted and slept for a better portion of the afternoon.



January 16, 2009

Bill’s brother Gary made his way back up to Dayton this morning.

Once afternoon rolled around, Osceola Cancer Center called and asked to have Bill in for his treatment. A previous message for them indicating that the radiation therapy was being declined by Bill himself never got through, it seems. This came four days after they requested that the MRI files be rushed to the center so they could examine them more closely. What happened to expedient care?

As time goes on it seems like less and less of this entire process is progress like one would expect, or even hope, it should.

This evening was spent like many others – sitting in his chair, reclined to comfort, watching TV, and falling asleep periodically. After a 45 minute stint of being asleep he decided that it was time for bed. His first attempt to stand up didn’t go over too well. He felt weak in his right leg with a shaky knee and was forced to sit back down just as fast as he got up. After sitting down for a couple more minutes, he tried again and was successful. Pat followed him into the bedroom to make sure he got there okay.

It wasn’t until later that Pat discovered the wheelchair she has at the house is too wide to navigate our doorways so it’s a good thing it wasn’t necessary.

Tuesday is the next appointment with the oncologist. He is under the impression that dad has been undergoing treatment but is unaware of the decision not to. Considering the chemotherapy drugs probably wouldn’t have even showed up by then, much less the radiation therapy, it’s going to be interesting what the oncologist has to say.