The dreaded phone call in Vulnerability

I had a phone call from my mother right after I wrote that last entry. Things aren’t good. She’s called a family meeting in Toowoomba for next week to discuss what to do with my dad. She broke down at one point. I managed to make her laugh by talking about her feud with my sister for going to the State Of Origin football match whilst she was sick. My dad and sister are in the same hospital right now, and mum wheeled dad around to her room to see her, as she’s flat on her back, unable to move. She put her back out coughing, the poor thing.

But anyway, mum mentioned palliative care, so that’s not good. She said his cancer is just so aggressive that it’s gone from a clear scan four weeks ago, to having now spread into his spine. Ergh. Mum said that dad had eaten bacon and eggs that morning, when he has barely eaten at all lately, hence why he’s lost 12 kilos in a week. The doctor glumly said that’s only because they’ve been making him feel better so therefore he’s feeling like eating, so that sounds like as soon as he’s off the drips and blood transfusions, he’ll deterioate again :( Mum was pretty brain-scattered with all the information that was being thrown at her from the doctor. They want dad to take part in trials here in Brisbane, as his case is so, so rare. He could help other people. But it also seems like this thing is going to kill him before we know it. I was thinking maybe he’d have another few years, but now it’s looking glum.

I’ve told a few of my close friends, but that’s about it. My anxiety was pretty damn high at work today, but I managed to tell my boss what’s happening and that I’ve applied for next Monday off on personal leave, as I need to attend the family meeting. I got confirmation throughout the day that it will be next Tuesday at 11:20am. I will need to find out exactly where to go, but I know which hospital he (and my sister) is in. That is my day off. I may head up there the day before. Make it easier. Allow my thoughts to drive me crazy. I woke up this morning and immediately thought of my dad, so the day wasn’t off to a positive start.
I really need to deal with my thoughts of death better. They are not healthy. I spiralled majorly into needing a therapy after Luke was killed, and I only met the guy once. What am I going to be like when my dad passes? My therapist said I may not even cry at all, but I am an emotional person. I will cry that he never liked me being gay and was too stubborn to change his views. He will die and take them with him. And it’s not like I can ask him if his views have changed on it whilst he is on his death-bed, in front of my family. It should be a non-issue. But it is why I didn’t talk to him for 7 years of our lives. Thankfully I was the bigger person and decided to again, begrudingly. Anyway, I just have to remember what my therapist said, about how Australia is really bad at handling death. It’s not just me. It’s my culture here. I wish we were like Mexico where they celebrate it.
I can only really take comfort in that my dad has always been really religious. I feel like he isfar more mentally ready to die that I am ready for him to, and that is a fault of my own. I need to find some peace with mortality. My psych horoscope even mentions that I need to find a form of spirituality. Where do I start with that? I already did the Christian thing for my entire childhood and part of my adulthood. I was probably more okay with thoughts of death back then, than I am nowadays, because now I don’t know if there is an afterlife. But angels apparently exist. So maybe I can work with or from that, somehow.
Anyway, my poor mum. She’s such a strong woman and I don’t hear her break down often, if at all, but she’s been married to this man for, God knows, I’m pretty sure it’s close to 50 years, if not longer. And here she is organising a family meeting to discuss my dad’s final days. I think she’s made it next week to give my little brother enough time to make it down from Mt Isa, as it’s over a 2-day drive, sunrise to sunset. My state is massive. I remember driving 3 days to get to Cairns in 1999. That’s a nice memory I have with dad.
I’m already talking as though he’s dead. Phewie.
Mum said he was feeling good today and eating, so that’s all I can hope for I suppose.
I started listening to one podcast to do with death, and that was interesting. It’s an Aussie one involving a forensic scientist. She finds it so interesting that some people’s hearts are really big, because the heart is a muscle. I’d never really thought about that. And her job makes her appreciate life a lot more, because anyone of us could die tomorrow.
Death just isn’t nice for me to think about, and I think that stems from my fantasy-land, imagination-brain that I have and my stars are renowned for. My psychological horoscope mentions a few times that I live 40 years ahead of the rest of the world, which will catch up eventually. So I don’t feel completely crazy. I’m just not in tune with present reality, which I need to work on. Man, I have far too much to work on. I should have this shit figured out by now.
Anyway, I guess I’m hoping dad doesn’t decide to die between now and next week, because that sure as hell is playing on my mind also.