Through A Daughter's Eyes: Watching Dad's Valley of Cancer

We had the funeral for dad today and before people came, we opened the casket and he looked so tiny and I read him a letter that his friend had written him and then I touched and kissed his head; it was soap-like and it was so emotional. My father's funeral was this afternoon and I not only gave his personal history, I also wrote a poem to honor him and the occasion, and I also got to read a letter that his best friend, Steve Grainger, had written for him. Before people came for to meet the family, Mom and I had a moment alone in the Relief Society Room with the open casket and I read the letter before I touched his forehead and gave him a beautiful kiss before saying a final goodbye. He looked so tiny and felt like dried soap. Building An Eternity I dream of a world Where cancer never existed. With alcohol dead in the water and addictions all washed up. People always being healthy cheerful, loving, and full of faith. No wars, killings, or tragedies to mar the futur

The end has finally come after a three month battle with the nemesis that is called cancer. At 5:15 P.M. on October 26, 2014, my father, John Robert Cameron (otherwise known as Bob) took his last breath and I had just come to his hospital room minutes earlier to bring my mom dinner since she had been keeping a vigil there. We were talking, I was telling Mom about the meal I brought her, and he was snore/purr breathing and I suddenly noticed that Dad's breathing changed until there was no breathing at all. It took a few more minutes after that for his heart to stop beating and then there was silence, followed by crying. Dad was loved and he will be even more loved in the afterlife and he will be missed, but not forgotten. I kissed dad's forehead three times after he died...it felt like kissing a mannequin; it wasn't him. R.I.P. John Robert Cameron: February 1, 1952 - October 26, 2014. *I had smelled Grandma Cameron that morning as I was driving around an

I came to the hospital around 6:30 p.m.., but Dad didn't wake up until around 7:15 p.m. and said, "Heather, I'm sorry; I'm not hurting," and I said, "It's okay, Dad. I love you." Mom came to the hospital earlier because she felt uneasy; she said that the hospital staff had to use a lift to get Dad back into bed earlier because he has no strength in his legs. Mom, however, helped him sit up in bed so he could use his pee bottle. At this point, I left and went to the store to get some comfort food and on my way home, I called and Mom said there was an emergency. Panicked, I rushed back to the hospital and Mom said that Dad had fallen after trying to get out of bed to go have a smoke and had hit his head after the nurses had told him he couldn't go out. Fortunately, Dad was fine and didn't need stitches or an examination in the emergency room.

Dad is so weak today. He sleeps a lot and doesn't seem to want to consume food, only meal replacement shakes. He can't get up from the bed or wheelchair without help from people and a lift. We brought him coffee and took him outside so he could smoke. Uncle Allan and Aunt Sharon also came for a visit and visited with Dad for a few hours. I got a picture of the three of them. Currently, at 5:38 p.m., Dad said he wants the pain to go away.

The Words Are Lost - written by Heather Leigh Cameron October 15, 2014 Finding the right words not knowing what to say. Struggling for definitions that are lost within the mind yet yearning to be spoken. Where am I, who am I, what do I want? I don't remember how live each day. Not knowing where to travel to but wanting to go off somewhere. Therein lies a hidden danger. Cancer is evil; a tool devised by Satan created to rob the minds of dignity and knowledge. Trained to be aggressive and kill as fast as possible. Without emotion, without a care in this world only to destroy the quality of human life as it is known. Fight as you might, the outcome is unknown. Just know that the fighters are never alone. Divine and earthly help is ready and waiting to lift the heavy burdens and sorrow from the plate. Those who ask will feel strength be brought unto them. The words are lost in the abyss of the mind. Once spoken easily, now almost impossible to find. A

Dad went back to the hospital after being persuaded to by a close friend because he wasn't feeling well and Mom and I visited him at 8 p.m.. We took him out for a smoke and I told him that the counselor I am seeing said that my crying for his (Dad's) pending death shows that I have love for Dad and that it should bring comfort to him, which it did. I love Dad lots and am sad about him dying, but it's sadder to see him suffer as he is suffering. A resident came in and we discussed care options, ultimately choosing to go with everything short of life-saving measures being offered to Dad while he is there. Dad was afraid to even come to the hospital because he is afraid that he wouldn;'t ever come out, which he may not at this point. When Mom was rubbing Dad's feet afterwards, he said he was trying to figure out what direction he should go and trying to figure out what he should do.

Thanksgiving. We three had our dinner on TV trays the other day, but Uncle Allan (who is my dad's younger brother) came by and visited with Dad for a couple of hours.

Rolling Along - written by Heather Cameron - October 13, 2014 Rolling an organized pile of weight over so they can be relieved by baby powder and cooling cream so the sufferer can feel that life is but a dream Boulders with limbs, yet still filled with a soul and life. Striving along as they fall apart piece by piece Holding fast to whatever they can to survive. A workout for those who will be left behind. Mental and physical tolls taken on the loved ones. Yet, the opportunity to serve is so equally present. Blessings will come for any sacrifices brought forth. For every gift of care, the time to be cared for will come. Though bodies crumble and minds become tired. The spirit yearns to be free of the burden of a crumbling rental unit that is meant to slow down. Perfection and peace will someday come to all. Do not be afraid to show compassion and love. Death is not a failure, only an end to much pain. Such time will come when the trial will be over. Even

Renting A Mortality - written by Heather Cameron - October 13, 2014 The sadness that comes when two people act for legs that can no longer lift themselves because cancer has turned them into stone. oh, how people grow and then wither later on. Living and dying are all part of the Lord's plan. Even though we may not fully understand. Why must suffering be so long and hard? Yes, Christ died that way so that we would not have to. Yet, for mere mortals, dying is a long journey. When limbs become useless, the spirit yearns to be free from a body that is slowly fading back into dust. A spirit will soon be free, if it be God's will. Bodies need time to be perfectly rebuilt. During that rest from mortal life spirits learn and grow, far away and free from strife. To some, heaven is away from mortal woes God is waiting to carry those enduring safely home. Time grows short and for some will soon come the end. For on our bodies we are only paying a daily rent.

The Fight Within Cancer - written by Heather Leigh Cameron Rubbing the back of one who is dying takes fortitude and compassion to be given without crying. Ribs can be felt clean through; the tumors feel like stones of jello. All the love in your heart and the tears you hold back Working to make sense as to why life is out of whack. Cancer must die, not continue to freely kill. In this lifetime it must, if only it be God's will. When the disease strikes you or one close to the heart. Panic is not the way, but calmness is a start. For some it will kill, but others fight on. All in the same battle, must keep on enduring strong. Time passes on, yet trials keep coming and going. Faith must be had for the victory to be gained. Never give up, in your course keep walking forward. All will be done according to the way of the Lord. (c) Heather Leigh Cameron. October 12, 2014.

I sat with my dad this morning so mom could take Bobby into the city since we can't leave Dad on his own anymore due to the difficulties he had with walking and balance. He was so weak and said he felt sick. I watched him cook an omelet rather sloppily and he kept forgetting and trying to find words. Man, I had to let out a chuckle every so often just to hold back tears.

Dad chose to drink today and he could barely function because of that and the pain. He wanted to talk to Bobby, but Bobby didn't want to talk to him because he had drank. I wonder how long it will be before Dad passes away; I have a feeling that it won't be too long until that happens.

Dad went into the Palliative Care Room at Raymond Hospital so that he would be able to take the nap van to his appointment in Calgary that is scheduled for tomorrow.

I rubbed Dad's back for 20 minutes in the evening because he was in such terrible pain.

I got woken up by my mom at five-thirty a.m. because she needed help lifting Dad, who had fallen on the floor, up because he couldn't get up on his own. Together, we lifted him up to the couch.

Dad came back from the hospital today with a list of things to help take care of himself and prepare himself for pending surgery. There is no cure, but the objective of the surgery is to help make him more comfortable. I'm not sure when the surgery is or what the outcome of it will be.

Dad had an appointment in Calgary today and he and Mom went up to the Foothills Hospital by ambulance all the way from the Raymond Hospital; it was a three hour journey each way, as the hospital was way in the north end of Calgary. The appointment was with a Dr. Ruther, an oncologist in Calgary at Cancer Centre. It turns out that the main tumor is in the right adrenal gland and it metastasized to the liver and lung.  Obviously, there is no medical cure, but it could possibly be controlled. It is a rare cancer, however, and treatment for this cancer seems to be more available in Calgary than in Lethbridge. I am very curious to see how this will be handled when winter comes, as winters here are usually very bad. Dad's next appointment, as far as we know, is on September 29th.

I got some soup from some family friends and took it to the hospital, but when I arrived there, Dad was so soundly asleep that I thought he had died. I yelled and he woke up in a flash and relieved, I gave him the soup and watched as he ate a few bites before telling me to take it home; he had eaten soup for dinner, he was full, and didn't feel well. He thanked me for bringing the soup and I asked him if he was scared for his appointment in Calgary tomorrow and such and he shrugged. I told him I loved him, he thanked me again, and then I left him to rest. My worst nightmare at this point concerning this situation is going to the hospital to drop something off for him and finding him dead in the hospital bed, completely alone.

7-8:30 p.m. I visited Dad at the hospital with Mom and I told him that I've made peace with him and everything that happened in the past, as I had forgiven everything when I was 24. I also told him that there is nothing bad between us and that I love him dearly and that I hope he can be at peace too.

12:02 p.m. I followed the Spirit's prompting to visit Dad at the hospital alone. He was asleep, but I hugged him, kissed him, and he woke up. We talked briefly before he went to the bathroom and afterwards, I told him that I loved him and he said, "I want to die."

Anger is one of the stages following the diagnosis of a serious illness and that mixed with alcohol and Percocet can cause problems not only for the diagnosed, but the loved ones of the diagnosed. A day of devastation and tragedy happened today. The family was heading to Lethbridge and Dad fell as he was walking to the car, which caused him to become very aggressive towards my mom and belligerent in general. Concerned for my dad, my mom went inside and phoned the family doctor and he phoned the paramedics to come to the house. Dad threatened to kill Mom in front of the paramedics. When the paramedics arrived, Dad refused to go with them and was belligerent/aggressive enough that the paramedics phoned the RCMP out of concern for everyone else's safety. When an officer from the local RCMP detachment arrived, Dad was even more belligerent and aggressive and the officer basically told him that he could either go to jail or to the hospital with the paramedics. Dad wisely chose to go t

10:17 a.m. Dad had a biopsy yesterday at Lethbridge Regional Hospital at about 7:30 a.m. Today, he is having a body scan and is currently filling out a questionnare and will eventually be taken to the room for the scan. He doesn't have to change into a gown; lucky him. He expresses a lot of fear through becoming angry at everyone else; poor Dad.

4:20 p.m. Dad talked to an oncologist at the Lethbridge Regional Hospital and the tumor is too big to operate on, so there will be no operation. The tumor is outside the liver, but there is a bit in the liver and also a bit in the lungs. At this point, treatment could either be chemotherapy or radiation, but any treatment will be decided after a biopsy is done to see what kind of cancer it is and Dad speculates that it might happen sometime next week, but it's not certain. There is swelling in his legs because of a vein being choked by the cancer and if they can't get the swelling in Dad's legs to go down, he might have a month, but I'm not sure how accurate that is and who's to say how much time he has left anyway? We are not in control here; God is. Anyway, it took me a while to actually type this, as who wants to hear that their dad is dying from a pain in the derriere cancer that is so aggressive and forces him to drink again just to cope? This evening, Mom

My mom brought my dad back from the hospital and apparently, the cancer started in the adrenal gland and apparently, that is a really rare place for it to originate from. He has an appointment with a specialist in the city tomorrow. 9:45: Dad's appetite was good today; he ate two helpings of liver and onions for dinner and then a piece of pumpkin pie and whipped cream. I think it's awesome he was able to eat well tonight!

8:15 p.m. Dad couldn't eat very much and can't do a lot on his own; he had to get a mickey today and can't even drink all of it. He was like "I am so f***ing tired of this " and I am quoting him, so it's not like I'm cussing. Mom wanted him to be back in the hospital and he got angry at that, but she returned him to the hospital because they can help him more there. There were calls from people offering support and I'm grateful that I finally made the blog public, as every drop of support is NEEDED and appreciated. Additionally, when he found out he had terminal cancer, he had just gotten through a week of rehab and came home after quitting it. He had been offered a new trucking job and was due to start the day he got the news. If he had gotten the new job, he would have continued drinking and driving like he was before when he trucked for Kunsman.  Now that he is dying, he is continuing to drink with the attitude, "F*** it, I'm going to

8:21 a.m.: Dad is returning to the hospital, but at least I was able to see him off. 4:24 p.m.: Visited Dad and sat with him outside for a bit and took pictures of him and Frodo together while he enjoyed a cigarette. He said he might come back home on Wednesday or Thursday because his CT scan is Wednesday and he supposedly gets his results Thursday and he wonders what the point of him staying in the hospital is after he gets his results as what can they do for him if the results aren't good, since he is already on potassium. I then wheeled him back inside to his hospital room and asked a staffer to take a picture of him and I and said I found it important because I never knew when the opportunity to do so would run out. 9:35 p.m.: Mom told me that when she was visiting Dad at the hospital, he said, "I'm never going to see my grandchildren, am I?" and hearing that about broke my heart because I am the oldest and a girl and I feel responsible b

12:08 p.m.: Dad got out of the hospital on an overnight pass and he, Mom, and I went to Lethbridge to take care of some things and we were only there for a few hours, but he didn't feel good at the end. 3:06 p.m.: We went around Lethbridge and eventually ended up at McDonalds in Fairmont Park and Dad said that he wanted a milkshake and I told him he could have anything he wanted. We got Dad a new burger that was on the menu and shrimp wraps for Mom and I. 8:41 p.m.: Dad told me that he thinks that it's not a matter of months, but a matter of weeks that he has left. He said that he feels himself getting weaker and weaker and I told him that if he felt that way, he should make a will and arrangements. He said he wanted to go to Spokane for the reunion, but Mom said she is not going to take him across the border in his condition in case he were to die down there, as she would never be debt free. Dad also said that he wants a million dollars and to go fishing in a boat and he s

4:30ish p.m.: I am sitting out on the porch with Mom, Dad, and the pets and we're eating chips. Dad mentioned that the chips don't taste right to him. I heard he vacuumed and his face got very red as a result, so it probably wasn't a good idea but he does want to feel useful and keep busy There are times he is grouchy and times he is sedate, calm-like. Not long into the little hang-out on the porch, Dad fell asleep, so we let him sleep. 9:00 p.m.: We visited Dad at the hospital again and sat outside for a bit so he could smoke. Bishop Duce came by briefly and after he left, we sat and talked a bit before wheeling him back to his room. It's amazing how physically strong he was before this and the cancer has just beaten the crap out of him and he is so tired all the time.

When my mom, brother, and I went to visit Dad today, my mom shared some news with me in the car on the way to the hospital; the doctors figured it was Stage 4 cancer that he has and that it obviously metastasized, as it didn't begin in the liver, but most likely in the bowels. We didn't stay for long and I admit I had a reaction alternating between crying and intense heartburn from the stress of it. Anyway, Mom and I went back to the hospital later and we ended up having a pleasant visit and a funny photo session which ended up sort of being an emotional release for the three of us.

Dad went for an emergency ultrasound at the Lethbridge Regional Hospital and he was driven there by a family friend and in the afternoon, my mom took my brother and I up to the Raymond Hospital and my dad told us that he was 'toast' and went on to explain that a mass was found pressing on his liver. Right away, Dad expressed his belief that it was cancer, which is what both of his parents passed away from, albeit they were older than Dad is now. He kept going on about how he might not see Christmas and stuff like that and it saddened me to see him so despondent. Dad is currently 62.

After weed-whipping his leg and having my mom treat it with peroxide and ointment for a few days, my dad became physically unwell and my mom took him to the ER with the intention of having his leg looked at. However, after a time, I learned from my mother that the doctor wanted to admit my father to the hospital and that his potassium was at a dangerously low rate...