Pancreatic cancer. Not me. It's my Dad. That is what he learned on Veteran's Day, late in the day. He was a World War II Enlisted Draftee, and after graduating the U.S. Naval Academy in 1950, became a Korean War officer. During one conflict, I think Inchon, his ship was hit several times, but he and the fellas made it through O.K.. He told me that he learned every battle position related to the big guns, so he could give the enlisted men a break, and take their spot so they could get a breather, even when the going got rough and the reloads seemed endless. That is the mark of a real leader.
I am floored and devastated, and cried in my bed for most of the afternoon for him, for me, for all of us in the extended family. I cried for more time that we need together; he is 1,939 miles away from me.
Two weeks ago, when I spoke to him, he had just gotten back from his daily walk. At 87 years young, he liked to a mile every day, but said the distance was considerably less this time. Five days later, he said he was too tired for his walks, and hadn't done so for a couple of days. This last Thursday, my stepmom noticed his skin pallor and eyes were jaundiced, and by Saturday, he was at the hospital getting an ERCP, an Endoscopic diagnostic procedure. They did biopsies, and had to wait for the results. Monday, there was still no news throughout the day. Then I got a call from my stepmom Tuesday afternoon; she was tearful, and said: "It doesn't look good, but we will know more on Wednesday after we speak with the Doctors in the morning". I asked her if they suspected PC, and she said: "Yes, it's not good".
I don't know much about PC, except what my cousin, Billy, told me two years ago, when his dad, also a WWII Vet, was diagnosed. He had four months with him after that. I won't know until tomorrow, Wednesday if his condition is operable yet. (It is late Tuesday night as I write this).
Sunday: It is non-operable, nor can he do chemo or radiation. He will be under palliative care at home. He went home on Friday in an ambulance, and one of the spare bedrooms is set up for Hospice. He can't lift his head up on his own, nor eat solid food. The cancer is located at the head of the pancreas and has just spread a little ways into the bile duct. He has no pain, just slight discomfort from gas. I guess he sleeps a whole lot, and when he wakes up, it is for about 15 minutes. Apparently he is very alert and keeping his good humor. There is always classical music playing, but he has always loved a Brahms Concerto the best.
This has all been a sudden and shocking turn of events for us, and I have to get out to Tennessee as soon as I possibly can. My Dermatologist told me on Friday that my melanoma is back; but he is confident. I retire at the end of the month, and won't get to go fishing with my Dad in the spring.
With Love, Dad, from your Son, the other Vet...SSK
(This has been really hard to write over several days; I am still in shock and keep crying and crying, so I apologize for the disjointed writing style.)