So much has happened since my dad's original diagnosis. Hopefully throughout my daily blogs, I will catch up on the years between.
My dad calls me every night without fail, around 8 p.m. The night's he doesn't call I get so worried but he has always stated to me that he doesn't want me to worry, not to call, and I don't want to pick the phone up and call him as he tries to rush for the phone and because of issues with balance, could fall. Puts a person into such a predicament.
Dad now has blood draws weekly. This started approximately 7 months ago when a new oncologist finally came on board and took some concern into my dad's CML. My dad thinks the world of him because he actually talks to him about what is happening. Prior to this, dad's GP (general practioner) was doing blood draws on him about once a month, but nothing more was ever done.
Dad had gone through some blood transfusions a few times over the course of the past few years but nothing like what has been happening since his oncologist has taken an interest. These transfusions were taking place about once a month at the start of their new relationship. It then went to every 2 weeks and for the past month and a half, dad has been receiving blood transfusions, a bag of platelets and "other stuff" on occasion, but he doesn't know what that is.
It is scary to hear how all of this has transpired so quickly, but then maybe it hasn't because he didn't have a specialist who cared about him. Reading more about CML and how the white blood count is high in patients the need for transfusions and platelets, knowing that the white blood cells do not do what they are suppose to in a CML patient, makes me wonder how much time my dad has left. He is suffering, and throughout the course of the past many months, has complained of how his stomach is so upset (in which we now find that when he has his transfusions this stops the pain for a few days), how tired he is, yet he does not sleep, has fallen, has not appetite and now in the past few weeks has begun developing nose bleeds.
Living almost 2,000 miles away, there is a feeling of hopelessness ... how does one try to give hope to someone who has meant so much in their life and keep their spirits up? The other feeling of hopelessness lies in the fact that although I have my dad in an assisted living facility where he gets meals that he has to go to a dining room to eat, he cannot get into a nursing home because of the "rules and regulations" that are in place. He needs help, he needs to be by his wife whom he has been married to for almost 60 years and yet the systems do not allow it.
I only wish I could take away all his pain.
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