Two Days After Superbowl Sunday

February 9, 2010 was a day I’ll never forget. It was two days after the Superbowl and the festivities had already faded. My dad was being discharged from the Victoria General Hospital, not because he was well enough to go home, but because there was nothing more “they” could do for him. In late January, he was admitted with symptoms of nausea which turned out to be a serious bowel obstruction for which he required surgery. Peri-operatively, the surgeon discovered widespread metastatic cancer, which had gone undetected in a CT scan a few weeks earlier. So the operation was completed and Dad spent a few more days in hospital recovering .

With the prescription of T3’s in hand, I prepared his transport wheelchair so that we could get to the car and go to the BC Cancer Agency. It was our understanding that a PICC line would be started so that Dad could begin immediate chemotherapy. Dad was grumpy that day and he refused the wheelchair, choosing to walk out of the hospital on foot – I could not convince him to conserve his energy.

However, the PICC line was never inserted. The oncologist at the cancer clinic explained that chemotherapy was not indicated as the cancer was far too widespread to be affected by chemotherapy, and the negative side effects would likely outweigh the benefits. So the “fragile” conversation began. Carefully worded questions were followed by painfully vague answers. I just wanted to know how long. EVERYONE will want to know: how much more time does he have? I knew that my parents were shocked, worn, fatigued, and sad - my job was to get this information right. I knew I would be repeating this story over and over and over again and I HAD to get it right!! I was the only trained healthcare professional in the immediate family – I was the self-designated quarterback, for now ....

So I made sure to listen carefully and clarify: “A few months – as long as there is no major event” A FEW MONTHS!?! But he was fine at Christmas, 6 weeks ago!! Then bloodwork was done, nausea set in, and he was taken to hospital -- now you are telling me a few months!! I switched off the emotional side and thought of clarifying questions that “people” will want to know. I had to keep it together, help, support, think, remember, and listen. The visit didn’t stop there: there were prescriptions to fill (forget those T3’s, it was time for the deluxe narcotics), appointments with home nursing and the outpatient pain clinic to be made, and paperwork to be completed. Who knew that I’d be filling out the Palliative Care Benefits paperwork only 6 weeks after Christmas!

I dreaded going home to an almost empty house to make those phone calls to share the devastating news with my siblings. Now I was going to have to be the one answering carefully worded questions with fragile, vague answers – I was, after all, the quarterback.

(Despite the gravity of that day, I still feel honoured to have been there. Our family was treated with overwhelming compassion and support from all the staff, professionals and volunteers at the BC Cancer Agency. It made the whole experience slightly more tolerable to be surrounded by caring and kind strangers. A huge thank you to all of the individuals who dedicate their time and energy to helping patients and families with the experience of cancer)