Taba Taba Taba Shi...

This is Jill.  I'm Gary and Ardith's third child and second daughter.  I inherited my dad's love of journaling and tend to write inappropriate sarcastic things to deal with everyday life.  This trial will be no different.   I'm grateful JaNae and Jeff started this blog for the general use of our family during Dad's  cancer journy (aka crap fest).  Love you Dad!!

Dad requested that I repost a post I put on my personal blog on his blog:

My dad had a patient when I was growing up that suffered from a tourettes, had a stroke, or suffered from another syndrome that rendered him unable to say anything but something to the effect of..."Taba taba taba, shiiii..."

My dad spoke of this patient with a hushed reverence, if one of the funniest saddest things known to mankind could be reverent.   He would describe slightly one sided conversations with this man where my dad would spin tales of his last fishing or hunting trip and this poor soul would only answer in "Taba taba taba shiii..."

I have found in my adult life that my "only" true character flaw is my inability to contain swear words when I am extremely stressed.  I hate this about myself.  Sadly, it's something I work on fixing on a daily basis.   I grew up with the principle that swearing is a sign of a weak mind trying to express itself.  I'm weak minded...oh so weak.

This week has been one where the swear words have flowed like water.  My brother Jon with attest to this one.  It's been a week where I wish I had a syndrome that allowed me to spew my lovely obscenities without guilt or social awkwardness.

My dad was diagnosed this week  with invasive pancreatic ductal carcinoma.

Taba Taba Taba shiii...

Dad hasn't been feeling well for a few months.   The past few weeks he started suffering from increased fatigue, lack of appetite and general itchiness....yes itchiness.  He went to the doctor Tuesday night and had blood drawn.  Wednesday he was admitted to the hospital here in Twin because his liver enzymes were extremely high...and he had started turning yellow.  The itchiness was a side effect of increased billiruben levels in his blood.

Laproscopic surgery confirmed that a bile duct was indeed plugged, but unfortunately the surgeon was unable to open it.  Biopsy's were taken of the abnormal tissue blocking the duct and on Friday morning our fears were confirmed.  The tissue was malignant.  Dad had surgery Friday in Boise where doctors installed an external port through his liver to drain the bile that had been backing up for who knows how long because of the clogged duct.

...he lost 12 lbs from the drainage.  Um. Yeah.  Poor guy was miserable!  

In three to four weeks Dad will have a very complicated surgery called a Whipple procedure that will remove the cancerous duct along with part of his stomach, pancreas, and small intestine.  His healthy bile duct will then rerouted to his small intestine again.  This surgery is dangerous and wrought with possible side effects.  It is also has an extremely painful recovery because of its invasive nature.  After he recovers from the Whipple, he will have to endure chemotherapy and radiation.

 I'm scared, nervous and at times I feel so out of control.  (Hence the swearing)  

I found the best coping mechanism for me (beside the potty mouth) is not letting my mind think about it.   Thinking means accepting and accepting means trouble, crying and four letter word dropping.

Friday I let myself cry.   I  cried until my eyes were puffy, swollen and itchy.  I cried because I know what a pancreatic cancer means.  It's aggressive, unforgiving, and mean.  If a tumor like this metastasizes, it does so with a vengeance.    Steve while comforting me stated, "Jill, he's not gone yet!"  As insensitive as this may seem, (I'll be honest, I wanted to punch him) I know he didn't mean it insensitively.  Steve deals with things better than me.  He always sees the bright side.  He is the perpetual optimist.  He encouraged me to to not worry until I have to.   And he is right.

The bright side is that luckily, my dad's cancer was undetectable on MRI  and CT scan.   It's still very small.  When he has surgery to remove the tumor, the doctors will test to see if it has spread to the surrounding lymph nodes.  If those come back clean, his prognosis is good.  If they are not...well how about I just don't go there.

However, all optimism aside, this diagnosis comes just a year after my sister's colon cancer diagnosis.  She in her treatment has been to a fiery place I can't imagine.  Now, we must watch as my dad experiences the same hell.   Words can't describe.

I don't write a lot about spiritual things or feelings.  I struggle putting into words how I feel about things I find sacred. (Titling this post with a swear word inhibits my validity anyway)   But all coping with inappropriateness  put on the back burner,  I am so grateful for my knowledge of a loving Heavenly Father.   I have faith that He is in control.  This faith is what is keeping me from crumbling.  I'm clinging to it with all my might.   I know that whatever happens with my dad and family is His will.  I know that trials are necessary to refine us.  They show what we are made of.   We will be refined and made stronger better when we persevere and survive.  We will be blessed if we choose to use our trials and sufferings as a way to show our obedience.   Will we collapse under the weight or hold strong and triumph no matter the burden?  I want to hold strong.

But it's hard to be strong all the time.  When I haven't been keeping myself occupied in the past few days is when my mind starts to wander and think.  I think about the worse case scenario...losing my dad.   It's unimaginable.  My dad is a pillar of greatness in my life.   He's a rock of stability, the voice of reason, the Common Sense King.   I'm positive my siblings will agree with me in saying that our dad is hands down the best.  No contest.  A world without him is world I wouldn't quite know how to understand.

So...tonight as I write my feelings down sloppily while trying not to get car sick as our family drives back from Utah, I hope my Dad knows how much I love him.  I hope he knows how much he will be in my prayers.  I hope he knows how much I wish I could fix this trial or take it away from him.  I also hope he knows how much I admire him for handling the last few days with such grace and humility.  I love you Dad.

...and I'm sorry I swore on my blog.  It's par for the course this week.