I have experienced more fear, sadness, stress, confusion and hopelessness in the last week than I have in my entire life. But today, my feelings of hope and joy are surmounting all of that.
Since Dec. 23, my family and I have been dragged along a devastating emotional journey that led to us cherishing every short moment we had with my dad. We didn’t think we had much time. At one point, I didn’t think I’d ever get to speak to him again or even see him open his eyes.
The news that came today changed everything. That one infinitely minute outcome — so minute it hadn’t even been listed as a possibility — was ours. And though my dad still has a long battle against cancer ahead of him, at least now we know he’ll have time to fight it.
In the 11 days my dad has spent in the hospital, I felt like I was hit by a train at least 11 times. Even today’s good news has left me exhausted. The idea of my dad having less than a month to live sunk in so deeply that the opposite seems almost impossible. But I’ll take it.
My dad should be coming home from Moffitt tomorrow or next the day. Not with Hospice, but with hope. The Christmas present I never thought he’d be able to open is still waiting for him under the tree. And I can’t wait to watch him tear the paper off.