I want my blog to have a series about my dad’s tumour, because it is the main reason I started this blog. I want to start the series with the weeks before his diagnosis:
My father changed a lot as his tumour grew. He started saying weird things, using wrong words and getting angry with us, when we corrected him. He moved very slowly and it took him ages to eat. He forgot a lot of things, things, you just told him the other day or some minutes ago. Once he went to the supermarket to get some milk and returned with completely different and useless stuff. But he thought those were the things on his grocery list.
My father had also had diabetes (the type I, which is a genetic disorder), so he had to inject himself insulin. Once he didn’t use his syringe, but tried to use a bottle opener instead. Or he tried to use a handkerchief as a remote.
All of this sounds rather funny, but when you see your own father at the age of 51 behaving this odd you don’t feel like laughing.
Sometimes he looked at me with big round eyes like a puppy, which was kind of cute. I always hugged him then, but we all knew there was something wrong.
My mother told him he should go see a doctor, but he always said he’s alright and told the doctor everythings perfectly normal. Of course the doctor believed him.
We wanted to go away during the holidays with our trombone choir. Everything was already planned and payed, but suddenly it wasn’t sure if we could actually be able go there.
Then our uncle died, the husband of our father’s sister. He had had cancer and had become unbearable because of it. Only some weeks before his death he had kicked his wife and two kids out of the house, so they had to move to our grandparents. He didn’t even allow his kids to get their stuff out of their rooms. They were only 11 and 13 years old.
When he died my father wanted to write a condolence card for his sister. Careful as my mother was, she read it through and was shocked about what he had written. His sentence hadn’t made a lot of sense, he didn’t sound compassionate, but like a robot. She put it away before he could give it to her.
This settled it for her. She packed a bag at sunday evening and went to the emergency with him. It was the 19th May 2013.
I remember watching the Eurovision Song Contest with our family just the evening before. He had no memory at all of the ESC, neither the next day nor any days after.
Maybe some of you had to go through something similar like this. This is my experience with brain cancer so far (and I really hope it’ll be the only one).
Please feel free to leave a comment. If you have any questions, just ask them and I’ll answer ASAP!