August 17th
One Week
     One week, 7 days, 168 hours, or 10,080 minutes. A lot can happen in that time. This time last week I had just finished having dinner with my family and was home getting the kids ready for bed. I had gotten the call that Dad was in the ER. I knew he was sick, but I had put my kids to bed feeling good about life. Feeling no true fear. Life was good, all was well.
   Today, one week later my Mom is at Walmart picking up prescriptions for meds to control my Dad's nearly unbearable pain. She is searching the grocery isles to find anything that she thinks he might could keep down. She is planning to bring him home from the hospital tonight. They walked out of the house a week ago with a normal life, the kind they have had for 39 years. Tonight they will walk back into that house with everything changed. Last week they had the weekend ahead of them, they wondered if they would go to Tennessee or work around the house for the weekend, this week they are wondering when the chemo will start and anticipating exactly what kind of cancer they are dealing with. Last week they were picking up bottled water for my Dads work bucket and tonight they are picking up Morphine. Last week they had worries about work and home projects, tonight they have worries about tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. They now have life or death worries. Last week I rushed through my workday to get home to my kiddos, this week I pull over and cry my eyes out after every patient. What a change. It's not only a change, it feels like a shift in the universe, our universe.  Life is different.
     I know we will get up soon. I know my Dad is Superman. I know we will rally. I know what kind of people we are. I know we can do this. I know it, I know it. We just can't do it today.

August 16th The Crash
     At last writing I was falling. I hated that feeling. It went on for several days. Doctors surrounded my Dad, poking and prodding. I would sit by Dads beside and watch as the strongest man in the world became very normal. He became a patient. How could this be? I watched my Mom go from being a wife to being a caregiver. How could this be? She stayed by his side every moment comforting and serving his every need.  How could any of this be? This is not real. This is not happening. Those were the thoughts that played over and over in my mind.
      I didn't want to tell anyone about Dad because that would confirm that this was real, yet I wanted to tell everyone. I wanted someone to say something to make me feel better. I know it sounds selfish, but I desperately wanted to feel better.
     Biopsies were scheduled for Friday along with an EGD. Finally, I thought we'd get answers. Friday came and went. Tests were cancelled due to blood being thin. Saturday came and went, Sunday came and went. The biopsies were done on Monday. Four CT guided biopsies were taken by the radiologist. No answers. On Tuesday the EGD was done. After that answers came all too quickly.
     I had just got home from work on Tuesday when I got another life shaking phone call. It was Mom, with the same voice as the last time I got horrible news. She proceeded to tell me that the tumor was not only outside of Dads stomach but was nearly filling his stomach threatening to cut off his ability to eat of drink. The cancer Doctor has already came. Things were not good. There was talk of him needing his entire stomach removed. Talk of this being untreatable. Things were changing. Fast. This was "The Crash". Life as I knew it stopped. I was very sure that it would never be the same. I had landed and it was in unknown territory. It was in a place that I did not like at all.
     I pulled myself together and headed back to the hospital with the kids. Everything was different. Dad was totally different. Mom was totally different. The nurses were totally different. Everyone had felt the crash. The world had shook. We all knew we had to get up, but it didn't feel like today was the day to try it.

August 11th
Breathless
     Have you ever had the breath knocked out of you? Thats a phrase I have heard throughout my life but never fully understood, until this week. I now know how it feels to be breathless. I believe that most of the time you get the breath knocked out of you as a result of a fall. I am now wondering if you become breathless as a result of the acceleration of the fall or from the actual impact of your landing or "the crash". I feel as though I am presently falling and my breath is nowhere to be found, so as of now I will go with the previous theory that the rapid change in level is the cause of the actual loss of ability to breath. Either way, I need to breath.

     It was an eventful Wednesday in my life as it was the first day of the new school year. Earlier that morning Luke had started 8th grade and Macy 2nd. I had spent my day with a lot of mixed emotions. I was sad thinking of having less time with the kids and sad thinking about how quickly they are growing up, yet I was excited for the freshness of a new year. I love new beginnings and I also function much better with routines and schedules. I know, I'm boring and predictable. That's just me. Anyway, the day went well. The kids both were happy with their teachers and classes and such, all was well. Jeff had to work that evening so I decided to take the kids out to dinner for a treat. Macy chose Chick Fil A as she had a coupon for a free ice dream cone from there. On our way there Macy realized she had forgotten her coupon and I got a message from Mom inviting us to join them for dinner at Bellacinios. Quick change of plans. We had a nice dinner with Dad, Mom, and Momaw. All was well. All was normal...except Dad again wasn't feeling good. 

     Dad hadn't been feeling good for sometime now. He was having pain in his stomach and back for weeks if not months. He would complain, then assure us that he was fine. He called it air, indigestion, soreness from a hard days work. He called it everything, but ignored it as best he could and wanted us all to do that same. That day was different. Dad was contemplating going to the ER. Wait, what? My Dad don't go to the ER. My Dad just don't get sick. By the time we finished eating Dad assured us all that he was feeling just fine and was ready to head home. We all left for home. All was well.

     I got the kids home and started the nighttime routine, that I was trying to set into motion since this was the first night after school. I got a text from Mom saying that she was in the ER with Dad. She explained that they had gone to the store to get water and said that when she came out Dad was violently throwing up by the car and having unbearable pain. I felt comforted knowing that he was at the hospital finally. I felt a tiny bit of worry thinking that the worst prognosis could be a heart blockage. A heart attack would be terrible I thought, heart surgery would be a real bump in the road. I prayed that his heart would be fine. And it was, I guess. 

     I continued to text with Mom throughout the evening getting updates as to what they were checking and doing. I got some pics of him hooked up to the EKG machine looking all embarrassed. I guess they thought heart too, just as I did. Around 11 or 12 I got word from Mom that they were admitting him to watch his heart through the night and do some more testing tomorrow. I was relieved that they were taking this seriously. I rested some through the night.

     Thursday morning was rough getting the kiddos up. Macy was not feeling it. I had them all set up with breakfast and clothes and I took a quick minute to call mom and check on Dad. That's when my breathing stopped. That's when I fell. I've been falling ever since. Moms voice was different. It wasn't tired, or frustrated with being away from home. It wasn't a wondering voice,  worried about what the day would bring. It was a voice of defeat, a breathless voice. "They did a ct scan last night, your Dad has 7X8 cm  mass between his stomach and his pancreas and multiple small masses around the pancreas".  I had no words. I still have no words. I have no words because I have no breath. I now know the feeling of having the breath knocked out of you. It's out of me. I am breathless.