My Loving Father

Running five miles a day and lifting weights heavier than me, my Dad was the epitome of health. Loving, patient, kind, and empathetic are qualities that define him. Needless to say the shock we received roughly one year ago when we discovered his diagnosis: Glioblastoma. He went to the doctor for a two day headache-that’s it-that was his only symptom. I thought he was being paranoid and that the appointment was frivolous and unnecessary. He was being careful, cautious; and for that, I am thankful.

Since that time, his health and overall mood have declined. Leaving him in a wheelchair with ankles larger than melons due to the swelling, the blood clots. He is confused by everything; even the tuna fish sandwich found on the plate in front of him. Heartbreaking. He has no vision in his left eye and when he reads, he starts from the center of the book and follows the line to the right side of the page. Swooping his eyes back to the left, which again, begin in the middle of the page. This man read daily, completed crossword puzzles for fun and had a profound vocabulary. Now, he stumbles over finding the right words.

Glioblastoma is a horrendous disease and from what I have read, has a sufferable end.

With only a handful of drugs approved by the FDA, none have been able to rid one from the evilness that is Glioblastoma completely; only momentary reprieves until the next tumor grows and causes a host of new symptoms. These drugs merely prolong the life by a year or two, if one is lucky and treatment options are limited to where one lives within the continental United States.

That’s it, the story of my Dad. He’s here and we shall relish every moment that we have with him. I just don’t want him to be scared.

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Opinions expressed within this story belong solely to the author and do not reflect the views or opinions of the National Brain Tumor Society.