Keeping the faith

I don't think I've ever typed about this before, mostly because I was in a non-blogging stage of my life when it all came out, but Uncle John, my dad's only brother, is very sick. About a year and a half ago, he had some tests run because he was having trouble swallowing, and shortly after, was diagnosed with stage four esophagus (esophageal?) cancer.

Since the diagnosis, there has been lots of chemo, radiation, a major, major operation, and several smaller procedures involving a balloon used to open his throat so he can swallow more easily. He's had his ups and downs, for sure. Until last weekend, I'd seen him twice since the diagnosis. The first time was at Tom's Nashville wedding in October and it was awful. He was much skinnier than I ever remembered and awfully tired. Sadly, he was lacking the strength to even attend the reception. It blew my mind that he had even made the long road trip, but flying just would have been too much, they said.

I saw him again at the end of February, when Nic and I went to Florida for a week-long vacation. We spent one day in Orlando, petting the dolphins at Sea World, but we both knew our whole point of being there was to see the fam. I asked John if we could take them out to dinner, but he was unable to go out so, instead, he and Martine had us over for dinner at the house (which was a freaking trip back in time, let me tell you.) He was looking much better than the last time I saw him. He was up and about, very chatty, and even sat with us at the table, eating and catching up for nearly an hour before he needed to retire to his soft chair in the living room.

We were teased for a short while by scans that came up clear when the whole first round of chemo/radiation/huge ass surgery was over. We all hoped for the best but, I think, deep down, expected the worst. It wasn't long before the cancer was back. It was now in his lymph nodes. About a month ago, John finished his second round of chemo. He immediately planned a trip north. Dad began calling it his "farewell tour" and, knowing how weak and tired the chemo makes him, it's hard to imagine it was anything else. Why else would he possibly put himself through traveling in that condition?

I was extremely anxious about seeing John this past weekend. I don't do well with sick people. I don't know how to act around them, which is stupid, because if I was sick, I would want everybody to act natural. Ignore that big ol' white elephant in the room. In fact, and I regret this, I don't know if I said anything beyond "hello" to him in Nashville and I'm so happy now that we were blessed with more time with him. Still, the day before he came to Minnesota, I was informed by Red that the results of his last scans were in and, while it hasn't gotten worse, it also hasn't gotten any better. Essentially, the chemo was ineffective. What a blow.

Dad went to hang out with his siblings and sibling-in-law on Friday morning at JoAnn's house. The plan (which nobody really knew...frustrating, because this girl likes a plan, though what are you going to do when it all depends on how Uncle John feels) was that I'd have lunch with Dad and see John at some point later in the weekend.

John and Martine had lunch plans that day with an old friend's mother, so Dad and JoAnn came downtown to hang out with me. We had lunch, went to the bank, took a little detour walking back to enjoy the glorious late summer weather. When we were done, Dad said I might as well go hang out with John for a while and I figured what the hell, let's do this.

The funny thing about sick John is that, if I close my eyes, he's the exact same Uncle John I have always known and loved. He tells the same John jokes and makes the same John comments and has the same John voice. Admittedly, he didn't look well. He's very thin. Martine even weighs slightly more than he does now. Not good.

We hung out for a while at JoAnn's. John, though tired from his already busy day, was adamant about coming to see my apartment when I got home. How sweet is that? My very sick uncle from Florida saw my apartment before my own mother, who lives 90 miles away, ever did. Let's not even go there. This was the most difficult part of the weekend for me, because the walk up to my apartment from the car was noticeably very difficult for John. He was dizzy and had to have Dad and Martine hold him up. It was slow going, but once he got to my apartment, sat down, and had a drink of water, he seemed a little better. It's just bizarre seeing him look so old and walking with a cane.

That evening we went to Taylor's first birthday (so fun! cutest kid ever!), but after that the weekend was all extended-family. Red came to stay and we spent Saturday morning shopping, hanging out at UMD (she's the only person I know who would just walk around the whole school with me and look at all the office doors to see who's still around and actually ENJOY it), having a margarita in my bedroom and looking at boobs on the internet. Then we spent the rest of the day at JoAnn's house. Dad and MOM (what the fucking fuck?) came, as did Mike's family. Taylor was the entertainment, as usual, and I'm really happy John and Martine got to meet her finally, though Red and I have come to the conclusion that Martine is much better with adults than she is with children. No wonder her kids are all so grown up....while we still thinking farts and sexual innuendos are the cat's ass. Seriously, Red can take any old benign comment and make it malignant.

On Saturday night, Red and I went out and got bombed, which is something I've been trying hard not to do and I don't have anything to say about it because I remember very little. There was a supposedly famous guy, Dave the bartender gave me his phone number (which I only know because I found it in my camera case on Sunday), some girl wanted to kill the wedding party for looking at her husband, and Yvonne's son now works at the Radisson. There, a recap. I feel good about it.

On Sunday morning, I drove our extremely hungover asses up to Tower for another family barbecue (awful weather both days, for both barbecues, by the way. Thanks, Minnesota, a whole heap.) We took highway 4. I'm not sure why, except that I had this nagging feeling that I was still over the legal BAC limit and I assumed there would be fewer cops on highway 4...also, fewer construction zones with big orange barrels to hit. The ride took FOREVER. We snacked on orange slices, trying to not barf, opening the window for some occasional freshies, until it got too cold to handle. At one point I observed aloud that we were not even close to Aurora and Red got straight up pissed. She said, "why would you ever say that?" and I damn near pissed my pants. Highlight of the day.

The rest of the day was more family fun. It was the same group as the day before, everybody trying to soak up all the Uncle John time they could. At one point, Tom called and talked to pretty much everybody in the house which was very sweet, and very Tom. I was dreading the moment when we would all have to say goodbye. John french kissed me (haha) and said, "I'll see you really soon" which made me feel a little better, though I don't know if it's true or not. After saying goodbye to the rest of us, he walked over to Dad, extended his hand and said, "Well...big guy..." and I was all OH NO, I AM NOT ABOUT TO SEE MY DAD SAY GOODBYE TO HIS BROTHER FOR POSSIBLY THE LAST TIME EVER! Thankfully, Dad said a casual goodbye, telling him he'd be stopping in Duluth the next day to visit.

As they got into the car, I went to the bathroom and dried my tears. I didn't see anybody else crying and I didn't want to be that emotional freak. I did cry for a large chunk of the ride home though. I hope I really will see John again really soon, but who knows. I tried to comfort myself with that fact, but "farewell tour" just kept coming back to me and I sobbed. Bizarrely enough, when I got to Duluth, I passed JoAnn's car and it was very comforting to me, on a level I don't understand. It almost felt like God telling me, it's okay. You thought you'd never see him again, but there he is, right there.