SEMIHIATUS
Sept 17, 2024 — Hi. I’ve been gone awhile. Here’s why:
[ This story includes information related to cancer, terminal illness, injury, death, grief, depression, and suicide. Proceed with caution. ]
In late 2019 my Dad took the first steps to finding out why his left hip hurt so much. In early 2020 it was decided that he had severe arthritis and he was scheduled in to start physiotherapy to help manage his pain. Then the COVID lockdowns happened and his physiotherapy had to be postponed.
He was finally able to see a physiotherapist once the world started up again. They gave him an x-ray which showed a shadow in his groin. He was swiftly booked in for an appointment at the urology unit. They diagnosed him with stage 4 prostate cancer.
Fast forward to mid-2022. Dad had been having an injection of sorts to help keep his cancer under control. Even stage 4 prostate cancer can be controlled enough to give people up to 8 years longer — most people with prostate cancer simply die with the cancer, not from it. He had his left hip replaced.
By late 2022 he had developed an even worse pain in his right hip. He was whisked off to hospital for an x-ray. His right hip was shattered. The ball part of the joint had burst through the socket. The doctors said it looked like he’d either fallen from a building or been hit by a bus. He had been unable to walk more than a few steps for weeks, and was just sitting in his chair all the time. He remained in hospital for a month, getting poked and prodded and forgotten about. It was decided that they couldn’t do anything for his hip — another replacement wouldn’t work because there was no bone at all to attach the replacement onto.
He came home and was bed-bound with his right leg in traction to try to gently pull it back out of the shattered socket.
Early 2023. Dad’s pain became unmanageable and he was taken back into hospital for another month. He was diagnosed and undiagnosed then rediagnosed with various ailments. Eventually, after having to ask practically every member of staff there, we were told that Dad had a very rare bone cancer that was dissolving his bones. He no longer had any bone in his right hip, and it was spreading down his leg. They gave him a prognosis of mere weeks.
So now the poor man had primary stage 4 prostate cancer and primary terminal bone cancer.
September 21st 2023 at 11am, Dad died at home in his bed. The bone cancer had infected his blood and he died from sepsis.
My sisters are all married and live outside of the family home, but I still lived with Mum and Dad. Mum was devastated by losing Dad. I watched, helpless, as the grief consumed her. She developed agoraphobia. She had literally hundreds of photos of Dad hung up around the house — on the walls, the doors, the fridge, printed on cushion covers and blankets — the photos had originally brought her comfort, but eventually they caused her to have immeasurable sadness. She couldn’t talk or think about anything but Dad. She spent a huge majority of her time writing a sort of diary of their early relationship.
November 28th 2023 at 10pm, I said “see you in the morning” to Mum. She said “okay” and I went to bed.
November 29th 2023 at 6:59am, I woke up. Mum had died by suicide in the night. Nine weeks and six days after Dad had died.
By Christmas I was evicted from our home. I’ve been staying in my sister’s dining room ever since.
I have depression, anxiety, and PTSD.
So that’s the story of why I’ve been barely-here for the past year.
