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.