Below is my story, taken from my blog, on how my dad's diagnosis has effected me. Enjoy!
It was January, 2005 - just after the holidays. I was in the middle of the Solomon Oasis Tour with Saab. I had just gotten back from Crested Butte, Colorado & I was set to go to Vail, Colorado 10 days later.
I was living with my parents during this time because I was so busy traveling that I couldn't find a place to live. Joe was living with them, too - which had to suck for him. But that's another story...
I came down with something fierce & I missed a couple days of work because of it. My mom had the same thing I had - and we both just laid in bed the whole time. It was about 3 days before we both felt any better...or at least better enough to get out of bed & get on with our lives.
About 3 or 4 days before I left for Vail, my dad came home from work saying he felt like crap. "I think I have what you and mom had," he told me. I told him to rest for the rest of the night & we would handle dinner. I honestly didn't think anything of it. I went to Vail a couple of days later excited to see the mountain.
I was in Vail for 6 days. Half way through my trip, my mom calls.
"Kate, it's more serious that we thought with your dad. There's something wrong with his gall bladder. He's fine, but the doctor's are looking into it," my mom says.
"Do I need to come home?" I ask.
"No, no...Kate, no. I just wanted to let you know what was going on. It's not a big deal. Get back to your event," she responds. And so I do.
Sunday rolls around, the last day of the event. I am leaving for home the next day. About 2 hours before my shift ends, I get a call from my mom.
"I just wanted to let you know that your dad is going to have to get surgery. His gall bladder is producing a sand-like substance and they don't know why. It's not serious, but I just wanted you to know," she says.
I walk away from the event. Tears are soaking my cheeks. I KNEW it was more serious than she was telling me. I knew something was wrong. I just had a feeling.
The next day, I flew home & arrived back at the house around 7:30 p.m. I walked in the house & didn't even take my bags to my room - I just left them by the back door. I went into the living room where my parents were sitting and asked them how everything was & if they knew anything more.
My mom just looked at my dad. My dad looked at my mom. They didn't say a word until I said again, "What is it?"
My dad, with his face beat red, looked at me and said, "They found a tumor, Kate."
Immediately I was sick to my stomach. They told me they didn't know if it was cancerous yet, the doctor's were taking excellent care of the situation, blah blah blah. I just cried. And I think the room was actually turning inside out.
The next couple of days just seemed to drift by. I don't really remember anything significant about them. I wasn't due to go on my next trip for another week, so I was happy to be home with my family as we were learning more about what my dad had. I remember telling Beth about everything, and she asked me - "Are you okay?". My response: "Yeah, I'm fine. I mean, if it was CANCER then I would be flipping out." Crazy, isn't it?
Three days before I was set to leave on my next trip, I am at work getting some things done since I wouldn't be back in the office for a while. It was 4 p.m. I get a call from my sister. I've never heard her voice like this. She was scared.
"Kate, dad just called me. He's at home alone. He made me call 911 for him. Mom isn't answering his phone & he doesn't know what to do," she says.
"What's wrong with him? Why does he need you to call 911? Why didn't he just do it?" I ask.
"He's scared, Katie!! I don't know what's going on!! Just....can.....can you please come home & wait for mom to get home while I go to the hospital with dad??" she says.
Before I know it, I am half way home, heart beating out of my chest. I get home & the door was wide open. I get another call from my sister.
"I need you to come up to the hospital with mom when she gets there. I have to go home & take care of the kids. Call me when you get up there," she says.
2 seconds later, my mom calls me from her cell. She got a message from my dad & she is on her way up to the hospital. I immediately leave & go up there. My dad is sitting in bed, and he has tubes going in and out of him. But, he's acting like normal - talking, making jokes - and he looks great. The room soon filled with people & it was like a little family reunion. No one knew what was wrong with him, but we all assumed he was just fine because he was in such high spirits. We went home for the night around 8. I didn't sleep a wink.
The next day when I woke up, my mom was already gone to the hospital. I went up there without even showering. "Who cares?" I thought. I just wanted to be with my dad.
I get there, and they are eating breakfast - dad in his bed, mom right next to him. I sit down & attempt to drink the disgusting matter they are calling coffee. Then, the doctor came in.
He stood over my dad on one side of the bed & my mom and I were on the other. He drew a picture of my dad's digestive system on a piece of paper to show us what was going on in his body - why he was feeling the way he was, why his gall bladder was producing the sand substance, etc. I was trying to keep up, but I remember thinking "just get to the fucking point already!! What are we going to DO about it??"
Then, just as easily as he was explaining what was going on in my dad's body, he mentioned the tumor was cancer. "Oh, and here is where your tumor is, and it IS cancerous." I immediately started bawling. I couldn't help it. I couldn't stop it. My dad's face went blank. My mom, after the doctor left, pulled me into the bathroom. I will never forget what she said.
"You dry those tears RIGHT NOW. Stop crying. You cannot be like this in front of your father. He is terrified right now. He needs you to be strong. You can cry all you want when you are alone, but don't you dare cry in front of your dad."
She was right. And I stopped.
As it turns out, my dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer (1 in 4 million survive) & needed a procedure called the "Whipple" procedure to cure him (25% die on the table, 50% have complications afterwards if they survive). He needed this surgery ASAP...and to make matters worse, no one would perform the surgery due to the risk. The doctors sent us home because at that point all we could do was wait for a surgeon.
It was then where my dad started to show the signs of pancreatic cancer. Sever jaundice. Itching all over. Extreme weight lose. He laid on the couch day in and day out drifting in and out of sleep. When I looked at him, I thought I was slowly watching my father die. He looked THAT bad. I didn't think he was going to make it to surgery. His body was bleeding because he was itching with a bristle brush. When he scratched, his skin flung back and forth on his body. His eyes began sinking deeper and deeper in his head. That was the hardest thing I have ever gone through, watching him go through that. My dad is my hero, my Superman, my everything. He's not supposed to be like this. God, take me instead...
Around mid-February is when we started getting a lot of visitors. I did not treat these people well. I thought, "Why the hell are you coming over here? He's going to be fine. You can see him when this is over. Fuck you for looking at him like that. Get out of here." Distant relatives wrote letters like eulogies. To this day, I refuse to speak to those people because of it.
Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, the phone rang. My dad's doctor found a surgeon who would perform the surgery at the Karmanos Cancer Center in Detroit. He was - and is - considered the best at this particular procedure...and he agreed to take my dad on.
February 22, 2005 at 1 p.m. is when my dad went into surgery. My mom, sister & brother all gave him a hug and a kiss before he went in. We all said I love you, waved at him and said "we'll see you when you get out."
We all went to the waiting room to wait for the 6 hours he would be in surgery. When we all got in there, my mom pulls out 4 letters. There was one addressed to each of us. My dad told my mom not to give us the letters until he was in surgery. They were letters of good bye in case something happened.
I can't tell you how important that letter is to me. I thought, if my father dies on that table, I will have his last words to me forever in writing. It was, and always will be, one of my most prized possessions.
3 hours later, the surgeon calls my mom in the waiting room.
"The cancer is out, Mrs. Knake. And we got it just in time. It was spreading..."
3 hours after that, we are allowed to see my dad - but only 2 at a time. My mom stays with him the whole time, and my sister goes in first. Then Joe. Then me (my brother went home to see his daughter). I walk in & see my dad covered up to his neck. He's completely out of it. His eyes are swollen.
He reaches his hand out from underneath the blanket and extends it near me. I put my hand in his. "I love you" he slurs. "I love you too, dad."
The next couple of days went great. He had to learn how to walk again. The Whipple procedure basically cuts you in half, takes out your insides, snips them all around, puts them back in & sews you back up. A lot is affected by this, which is why the rate of complications is so high. And my dad was no exception.
I was at home, eating breakfast when my mom called. She sounded annoyed.
"Kate, listen, everything is okay. Your dad had a heart attack last night and he's in ICU."
That was it for me. I was done. I was so angry I couldn't even see straight. I can only take so much. No more. Stop it, God - you're pissing me off.
Heidi & I go down to see him again. He is sitting on the chair when we walked in. We went & sat down on the chairs in the room as my dad started telling us what happened.
"I noticed the bag attached to my drainage tube wasn't filling up. I assumed I was done draining whatever it was that was in there. As it turns out, there was a blood clot that was blocking the tube internally, and it put so much strain on my heart that I had a heart attack. I just...I'm just.....I am so SICK of this shit, Terri!!" He started to cry, my mom ran over to him...and I wept. I couldn't take seeing my dad cry. I didn't think tough men like my dad got scared. I didn't think they cried. I couldn't watch him go through this.
5 days later...2 days ahead of schedule...my dad was released from the hospital a NEW MAN. He immediately got better & the doctors were so proud of him. In fact, they cheered as he left - like he had just won the Super Bowl of life.
This all took place over a matter of months, but it seemed like years. I don't know how I managed to get through it in one piece - and I doubt I could do it again. Seeing my dad go from what he was to what he is has been an amazing journey. He's an incrredible man who could move mountains if he wanted to....and lucky me....he's MY DAD. My hero. My Superman.
My dad is LITERALLY that 1 in 4 million. It's a miracle he survived. No one thought he would - even me, even him. But now, 3 years later & completely cancer free, the only visual memory is the large scar that goes across his stomach.
It's true what they say: it's a parents worst fear to lose a child. I think as the child, it's the worst REALITY that we will lose our parents. I am just thankful that I still have my dad & he fought for his life....
...and WON.
