rachel

24 my dad died

[besfrin]

who am I now?

my dad is dead. that is a fact. you spend your whole life expecting your parents to live forever. and then you're slapped in the face and punched in the stomach with the fact that they are mortal and have bodies that are meant to die.

how bleak.

my dad was everything to me. he was my only parent. my day began and ended with talking to or seeing my dad, whether I be at home or at school.

who am I now without the responsibility of someone else's life? my whole world revolved around him, especially when he was sick. I'm literally asking myself "now what?" because I truly don't know.

finish my degree? yes, obviously. dad said I have to.

find new hobbies? no thanks. nothing excites me anymore.

go out with friends? all I think about is how my dad looked the day he died. can't have fun anymore.

I can't find a reason to get out of bed most days. some days aren't so bad and I do a load of laundry.

other days I stay in bed and cry and don't eat.

I don't know. I'm a mess. but I'm trying to be a version of myself my dad would recognize. my biggest fear is turning into someone he wouldn't know.

[besfrin]

chapter 10: this is where it ends, part 2

June 5th. the beginning of the end.

the day started out quite normal. it was a really pretty day outside, and dad's girlfriend was over to visit. dad spent most of his days in bed, and that's where he was. he was rolled over on his side and his breath sounded wheezy when he would exhale. I was worried he was developing pneumonia or something, so we went to urgent care. the doctor noticed how his legs were swollen from the fluids he received from his doctor appointment the day before. they ran some labs and all signs pointed to congestive heart failure, but they weren't totally sure. they sent us home with a prescription for Lasix to pull the fluid off.

dad surprised us all by wanting to sit outside on the front porch, which is where he always loved to sit before he got really bad sick again. that was where we got the call that we needed to go to the emergency room for further evaluation.

that night was awful. a long wait time in the lobby followed by 12 hours in a cramped ICU room. while we were in the room, dad had a moment of severe confusion. his hip had been hurting for a few days prior to this, but we all figured it was the cancer. this time, dad woke up asking "why did you shoot me? I didn't do anything wrong." he kept repeating this over and over, so I grabbed a nurse and she brought down the neuro guys who screened him for whatever they do. by this time, he came to and said he just had a bad dream.

he always said it felt like someone shot him in the hip before all of this.

we finally got moved to a room upstairs. then everything kinda fell apart.

I was woken up to the sound of my dad groaning in pain and dry heaving, so I rushed over from the pull out bed and grabbed whatever container was closest. an unused bedpan. sorry dad. then the nurse came in and stared at us, asking for dad's information. I just turned and said "WHERE ARE THE PUKE BAGS?!" she grabbed us some, then proceeded to hand dad a handful of pills he immediately threw back up.

turns out, it was a kidney stone. his back was in so much pain.

then, he had a blood clot in his leg. had to have a filter placed in his neck to catch it if it moved, since he couldn't have surgery due to low platelets.

then, his ammonia was sky high. so he was loaded up on laxatives. I bet we just about wore a trail between his bed and the bathroom. I got up with him each time because his legs were beginning to give out on him. picked him up off the toilet each time. my back still hasn't healed. it's okay though. I never minded.

dad finally was given some heavy-ish pain meds to help him relax. my siblings came as well as dad's girlfriend to see dad, so I felt I could run home to shower and see my cat. when I returned, they all told me as soon as I left the doctor came in and told them all there was no more they could do for my dad. his organs were failing and his platelets were much too low. hospice would contact us the next day. that was a Tuesday.

that night, as I sat looking at the brightest moon I had ever seen outside the hospital window, I cried. I cried for my dad. my precious father. the one who hung the moon.

I realized we needed water. I wiped my tears and snot and ventured out, but couldn't choke out the words without falling to pieces at the nurse stand. they all flocked around me and brought me water and snacks and gave me the love I needed at the moment. but what I wanted was my dad. the nurses were angels. Kim and Autumn, and Sony and Kennedy.

me and dad spoke when I came back. it was mostly me laying my head on the guardrail of his bed while we held hands and just talked. that was the last time dad was able to speak.

dad came home on wednesday, June 3rd.

dad died Friday, June 12th, 2026 at 7:50 in the morning. my hand in his as I watched his last breath.

that is the end.

[besfrin]

chapter 9: this is where it ends, part 1

the first round of chemo really wasn't that bad. dad got tired and his hair began to thin out, but the poor guy didn't have much to begin with. I came home to check on him the weekend after his treatment, which was really just two days after since he went on a Wednesday. his chemo wasn't very strong, so he didn't have to stay overnight. he kept his good spirits. I brought home his favorite pop we could only find at the Walmart in berea, which was zero sugar cherry ale-8.

I went back to school that Sunday evening. a few weeks passed, and he was going to go back in for his second dose of chemo. he was unable to do his second dose because his bone marrow was too damaged from his multiple myeloma, which at that moment was still in remission. GREAT!!!! so now what? his oncologist put him on Alvais, which was a pill for raising platelets. there was now a risk of this medicine causing his myeloma to relapse. but his platelets are too low to continue chemo to try and stop the cancer in his bones and liver from growing. well shit?!

he decided to take the Alvais. his doctor told him he was dying. at this point, he hadn't had chemo since February. it was now May. I came home from school May 12th. dad didn't seem too unlike himself, just tired. I helped him in/out of bed and fretted over him constantly. he wasn't eating much, if at all. my birthday came on May 24th, where I turned 24. I was so happy my dad was able to be there. we didn't do anything, but the greatest gift of all was my dad being alive. may 25th, he went into the hospital for severe constipation. he was there about two-ish days. when he came home, life proceeded as somewhat normal. whatever our new normal was.

there was a heaviness in the house I couldn't describe. I wasn't sleeping because I was too scared to. I felt like a little girl scared of the dark, wanting to run to her daddy and lay in his lap. I still feel that way.

[besfrin]

chapter 8: abundance of bad news

winter break was really great that year. I crocheted dad a blanket, which took me way longer than expected. I used his favorite color. green. and did a really bad job at wrapping it because who in their right mind would wrap a blanket in wrapping paper? me. and dad thought it was perfect. he called it his Rachel blanket.

I was really sad to go back to school because I loved being home so much. spring semester of 2026. eight years of prostate cancer. five years of multiple myeloma. two years of college.

six months left with my dad. only none of us knew it.

that February day, I remember so vividly. it was actually a really boring and dreary winter day. a snow storm that had come two weeks prior was still hanging around, so the roads and sidewalks were slick. i made it back to the foyer of my dorm and gave my dad a call. it was a scan day. it was around 2:30pm and he hadn't spoken to me at all. strange.

I asked him how he was doing, and he said he was okay. made it back to his recliner after seeing his doctor. cold day out. yada yada. I hesitantly asked about his scan.

his scan looked as if someone took the paper and shot it with a shotgun. hundreds of black dots all over his body. some say they "lit up like a Christmas tree". I felt like all the air had been sucked out of my body, and each new breath felt like fire in my lungs. I got tunnel vision. people walking past me probably thought I looked crazy. I sat down and cried like I never had throughout this entire journey. body shaking, head pounding cries. cries of despair. the prostate cancer had taken over his entire body. not only his bones, but his liver as well. the nails were being driven into the coffin.

his oncologist told him they could try chemo, which if it worked would give him a year. if he chose no treatment, three months. so, chemo it is. how great. I was already preparing to leave school and go back home. I did it once, I will gladly do it again. berea would always be there. my dad wouldn't. it wasn't a hard choice for me.

but dad refused. he said we were too close to the finish line and I needed my education. so I stayed, but I came home every weekend to help with laundry and bed changes and housework.

maybe the chemo would help.

maybe not.

not.

[besfrin]

chapter 7: again

fall of 2025. the beginning of the end. I was on my way to a meeting with my fellow RA's. I knew that day that dad had a routine scan and bloodwork, so I called him when he texted me he was done and headed home. his tone was off. I could even tell through text. when I called, he was hesitant but told me that his prostate cancer was back in a few spots on his hip/pelvic region and his ribs. he had to do radiation, and so far, chemo is not on the table. okay, so its not that bad and radiation never bothered him before, so this will be a piece of cake!

its crazy how the brain will go through as many measures as possible to protect the body of pain, whether it be physical, mental, or emotional. I was naive. naive to believe that my dad would be okay. he was never the same after the radiation. he was also to take a pill to lower his testosterone, as that is what fed his cancer. the radiation affected the bottom of his esophagus where it met his stomach, so every bite of food felt like knives as it went down. the radiation had burnt him on the inside. his appetite had begun to dwindle away ever so slightly, but not enough to ring any danger alarms. we got over this hurdle eventually.

don't be naive like me and think it gets better. it doesn't.

[besfrin]

chapter 6: carry on

about two years had passed, where I continued to stay at home and help dad, while maintaining my job at the mall. I ended up getting diagnosed with type 1 diabetes near the end of 2023. right before thanksgiving, actually, which must have been some sick cosmic joke because what the hell??? horrible timing. dad was so scared for me. I was scared for me. this was something I had never encountered before. how could I have been face to face with cancer and barely shed a tear, but I hear my pancreas kicked the bucket and its like all hell broke loose? wild.

I still had an easy and simple life that was predictable (now with insulin shots and counting carbs). but I still was unhappy. I felt like I outgrew my job, but I still loved my coworkers. sometimes letting go can be the greatest proof of love.

so, I reapplied to berea and began again in January of 2024. dad was over the moon. he wanted me to be a doctor. he said if I showed anyone the absolute love and dedication I showed him, there was no question or doubt about the kind of doctor I would be. he always called me doctor Rachel. so, I decided I'd be a biology major and get my doctorate and then I'd be Rachel Harris, M.D (after like... eight more years).

I only felt comfortable with my decision once I saw that dad was actually doing really well. like... REALLY well. he came and went as he pleased, was raising his garden, shoot... he'd even find himself a girlfriend! I still came home every weekend and got dad an iPhone so we could facetime. I think the hardest part was just missing dad and my old routine. but I knew I was meant for bigger things. and daddy did too.

I was happy again. and so was dad. I got to see a bunch of my friends that I started with in 2020, even though most of them graduated that same spring. I was proud of them. fall of 2024 sucked. I got norovirus for the first time in my life and was sick all night, missed a week's worth of school (and midterm exams), and lost at least 15 pounds (oh nooooo....). I was scared to tell dad I was sick, even though I ended up having to take myself to the ER for fluids. I was only scared because I knew he'd be worried for me and I was honestly fine (I wasn't). once I realized it was about 1pm and I hadn't spoken to him at all that day, I knew he'd be calling and hearing hospital sounds so I fessed up.

me: "hey dad, so don't freak out but I am in the ER because I was sick all night BUT I'M OKAY DON'T WORRY ABOUT ME I'M GETTING FLUIDS"

dad: "RACHEL WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU OKAY I'M ON MY WAY"

so, me and dad had a slumber party in a hospital room. roles were switched this time.

life carried on. cancer was still in our lives and on our minds, but at this moment all we worried about was my next dose of zofran and mentally preparing to give a stool sample. my nurse was really cool. she set up a little "spa corner" complete with wipes, powder, institutional-quality hospital lotion, and lysol spray. nurses are angels.

[besfrin]

chapter 5: new beginnings

the goal after my dad finished his chemo was for him to undergo an autologous stem cell transplant, which is where they extract his own stem cells from his bone marrow, freeze them (I think), and reintroduce them to his body. but before they were able to extract his stem cells, he had to administer at home a series of shots into his abdomen. I think the purpose was to make the cells easier to "grab". he said the shots burned.

after he finished the shots, which were about six weeks worth, he was ready to undergo his stem cell transplant. he went to a hospital in Ohio and stayed there for about a month. he got a really intense round of chemo that made him super sick, and months later he told me about laying in bed and meeting Jesus. but that's a story for another day.

while he was in the hospital, the A/C unit in the house went kaput. in the middle of July. great!!!! dad was still his fatherly self, so he was making phone calls to whoever he knew (he had a "guy" for everything he couldn't do himself) and our A/C unit was fixed pronto. phew. it was hot.

dad came home and had the immunity of a newborn baby, but dad being dad still demanded a hug from me and wanted to spend time together. who was I to deny that? I wore my mask and washed my hands and life carried on. dad was cleared to begin to venture out around six months later. and life became normal again. dad was officially in remission and I felt like I had completed a job well done.

the job wasn't over, though. but I didn't know that.

at that moment, life was good. my dad was back. bald, but hair began to sprout again. little gray strands that for some reason came back darker than when they fell out. ha! he got back about ten years.

the timeline for this was 2021-mid 2022. what a horrible time to be alive that still proved to be a beautiful proof of the love between a little girl and her dad.

[besfrin]

chapter 4: my new life at the time

I began a new job the summer I decided to stop going to college as I was just working at subway and wanted a change. I started at American eagle as a part-time (and eventually full-time) sales leader. I hated it. but I stayed because I needed a job and didn't really have any other options. I also stayed because I found a bunch of women who became like family to me. community is so important.

while working this full time job, I was still caregiving for my dad. I would wake up early to get myself ready and let my dad sleep in, and he would wake up so I could help him get dressed and into the living room so he could watch tv or do crossword puzzles or nap. he was able to shower/use the bathroom himself, and honestly could probably dress himself but he was so weak and tired, so I wanted to help.

we would schedule his oncologist appointments to fall on my days off. he would always want to get some lunch together after his appointments if they weren't for chemo (he'd stay in the hospital for those anyways. he'd never let me spend the night but I did sometimes). he always wanted to eat, but his taste was off. he said everything tasted pickled. I remember we made a late night trip to the ER because he had a slight fever. they let us go home after monitoring him and running some labs, which all came back clear. we stopped at a McDonald's across the road from the hospital and he tried to eat a fish sandwich, but laughed and said it tasted like it had been tossed in the salt shaker. so he tossed it to the birds.

I remember that night fondly, maybe because the visit didn't end up being a long stay over an infection, or maybe because seeing the city at 3am with my dad was something I had never done before. but I think its really just because I love my dad.

[besfrin]

chapter 3: okay, so now what?

I decided to do the second semester of my freshman year of college remotely so I could be near my dad. I also just wanted to be able to live freely and even just drive my car (berea's covid restrictions were baddd). the first maybe five months of my dad's myeloma really wasn't that bad. he just got weekly injections (don't ask what bc I forgot) and they were enough to keep his blood counts in check and his bone marrow healthy. so, like before, life kind of returned to normal. he did his outside hobbies and I did my schooling in my room. I also got a crazy bout of food poisoning during this time. that's irrelevant, though.

dad's oncologist felt he was at the point where he could go to bi-weekly injections rather than weekly because of how well he was doing. then it turned to monthly. and that's when everything went to shit.

I was never told what my dad's blood counts or charts said. I just knew it was bad. he started chemotherapy immediately. ever heard of the red devil? I'm very familiar. he endured four rounds, each three weeks apart. this happened during the worst winter storm we had ever seen. i stayed by dad's side through it all. the bags of puke, the diarrhea places it should never be, cold rags to the forehead, late night ER trips over a slight fever that turned into a week long stay because it was actually MRSA, and much more. was there an end in sight that wouldn't end in tragedy?

I had to drop out of school. I wanted to, actually. because my dad had no one else to help him. I was willing and able. I was 19 and a full-time caregiver.

19.

[besfrin]

chapter 2: life was good for a little

did you know you get tattooed before radiation? I didn't. my dad got three tiny dots above his pelvic region, around the waistline. they were so the machine could know where to go (essentially). dad got a few rounds of radiation after his surgery because it had spread to his pelvic bones. but then, everything kind of went back to normal. he had no side effects from the radiation and very little from his surgery. dad went back to working in the garden, tending to his bees, doing dad stuff in the garage, and whatever else he got into. I was a senior in high school by this point. fall of 2019. we were eagerly awaiting my acceptance letter to berea. I have never made so many trips to the mailbox only to see nothing from berea except "check out the robotics team!" or "thinking about nursing?" postcards. no thanks. two of my classmates also applied for berea and had already received their acceptance letters, so I was honestly beginning to give up. dad told me to just be patient. and then it finally came. life was good again, and this was a sure sign. then covid happened. I graduated may 2020 in an empty gymnasium and was only allowed to take off my mask for a quick picture of me and dad with my diploma. woo-hoo, I guess. I think. idk. then the summer came and I was off to berea.

the first semester was strange because of the covid restrictions, but I just stayed the course (as my dad always said) and came home that winter after the semester ended. my sister picked me up, which I thought was strange. but okay, maybe dad was tired and didn't feel like driving an hour and a half in the freezing cold. I get it.

when I got home and settled and my sister had left, my dad asked me to come see him in the living room. I sat on the couch. he sat in his recliner.

"Rachel, I went for a scan of my guts to check for polyps. they found none, but did see lesions on my spine. I have blood cancer."

incurable.

5 years prognosis.

stem cell transplant.

chemotherapy.

multiple myeloma.

fuck.

[besfrin]

chapter 1: high school and a sick dad

I didn't really understand the weight of the situation when my dad told me he was diagnosed with his cancer. he was so... nonchalant? if that's the right word? and throw in "highly treatable", I just trusted his word and went along for the ride. I did however begin to realize how much of a weight it was when I began getting sideways glances from people I would tell. their faces sometimes reflect back into my mind. shock, fright, worry, mostly awkward "yikes" faces. but none of them gave the same energy as my dad. "it will all be okay, Rachel". the night before he had his surgery to get his prostate removed felt like a fever dream. almost like I was in some reality where I was in my home and my aunt was there for some reason, and there was a suffocating heaviness in the air that made it hard to breathe. I didn't know what the surgery really meant or entailed, but nevertheless, it really sucked! me and my aunt went to the hospital with dad way too early and were there when he woke up. I don't really remember too much of the day besides crying while he was in surgery because I hated being there and I hated the reality of things. I hated that my dad had to have a major, life altering surgery. I hated cancer. and I still do.

I wish I knew how much cancer would take away from me.

[besfrin]

the beginning

I remember as a child thinking my dad would always be around. nothing would ever happen to him, because nothing ever had. what was there to worry about? sure, he was much older than the parents of my friends', but it never bothered me. I never even paid attention to it as he was just... my dad. as I began to grow and birthdays kept passing until I was suddenly 13 and my dad was 57 with much grayer hair and a slower step, I noticed. my dad actually isn't invincible and he won't always be around. so, I did the math. by the time I would be 18, he would be 62. by the time I was 30, he would be 74. I began to get scared. I didn't want my dad to get older because that would mean I would lose him too young. I didn't want to have to watch him decline and no longer be the invincible hero he always was. I began to cry weekly, if not nightly, to my own father about his own imminent death. he would comfort me and sometimes call me silly so I would crack a smile. "I'm not going anywhere, sweet child", he would say. he would always listen and always knew the right thing to say.

but what he didn't know was that when I was 16 and he was 60, he would be diagnosed with an aggressive form of metastatic prostate cancer that would slowly take his life for the next 8 years. to make things worse, not only would he battle prostate cancer, he would also just three years later be diagnosed with an incurable blood cancer. multiple myeloma.

our story ended when I was 24 and he was 68. the math never mattered.