The doctor's official prognosis is not good. He feels that the chemo is killing my Dad faster than the cancer is and believes that it's best to stop treatment and enter hospice care. The problem is he is just too weak and losing too much weight and the weakness stems from the stroke and the weight loss from tumors pressing against his digestive tract. So, it's just bad all around.
I spent the past two days very depressed and weepy as I started to think about making arrangements to move to TX for the remainder of the year and gathering information about funerals. I also started thinking about where my Dad would like to take a trip while he's still feeling good. It is a very heartbreaking thought that I'm going to lose my Dad. I feel like there is still so much he needs to teach me, so much he needs to see me accomplish and so many memories that I am being robbed of and of course, that my child will never know my Dad is the worst thought of all. Losing my Dad will be the biggest heartbreak of my life, the infertility pales in comparison for me.
But my Dad wants to keep fighting, he isn't ready to give up, so we're in the process of getting a second opinion. Frankly, I am quite pissed that MD_Anderson is giving up on my Dad so easily after only 3 rounds of chemo. I mean, really?! 3 rounds and you're calling it over? They can fuck off if they think we're going to accept that and take my Dad home to die. We're fighters, we fought to keep him alive while doctors urged us to turn off the life support, we fought to get him the treatment he deserved and we fought to bring him back to us. We're not about to let ANYONE take him away. At least, not without a fight. They clearly underestimate my family and our determination. Idiots.
So today I woke up feeling somewhat better, able to ignore the bitterness and sadness a little more today than yesterday. His second opinion appointment is in August and I eagerly await it. After all, I know firsthand how much a second opinion can save your ass.