Sven and I lay in bed last night, trying to sleep, but finding ourselves talking about my dad's health. As I've mentioned before, my dad has been diagnosed with a non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma which has manifested in his skin this time. When we were visiting with my parents yesterday, it was really difficult not to notice that he looks absolutely terrible! His face is basically a selection of purple blotches, dry skin, dead skin, and a dual weeping eye infection. His scalp is just layers and layers of eczema/dead skin, like a helmet, and he has these two new growths on the side of his head that look like his brain is leaking out of his skull. He's extremely difficult to look at directly.
According to my mom, he was put through a CAT-scan and a PET-scan when they discovered the cancer, to see if it had spread, and they found nothing. But Sven brought something else up last night, so I'm documenting this now, because I have a theory that they missed something while they were looking for cancer cells.
My dad is extremely uncoordinated. Mind you, he's never been Swan Lake about, well, anything, but last night was exceptionally bad. He could barely stand, much less pour a glass of wine without missing pretty much the entire table, much less the glass he was aiming for. He'd been drinking all afternoon, but not heavily, and we've both certainly seen him carry a buzz with much more poise than last night. And it made me think, because I've been having this niggling suspicion for quite a few years, now. I'm not a doctor, and as such, my opinion doesn't matter in the least, but I've been right about pretty much everything else that's been ailing him, and somehow that still comes as a surprise to my mother, every single time.
Anyway, this is what I've observed:
Summer 2009
- Suddenly, my dad didn't know how to mount a bicycle. I caught him trying to lift his leg over the cross bar, standing on the ground, like some kind of overweight ballerina, instead of setting the bike in motion and swinging his leg backwards over the back wheel. I had to demonstrate for him to comprehend. He mounted his bike like a big boy that day, and never again. I disregarded it, because I figured it was an Old Age thing. Most old dudes who ride bicycles are on women's bikes. I figured maybe it got too scary, balance-wise, to mount in motion.
Fall, 2011
- My mom sent my dad to pick me up from the office in their car. This is a trip that should've taken 20 minutes, max. After 45 minutes, he had still not arrived. Ok, maybe he got held up at home, or got sent on an errand, I figured. After finally arriving, he turned the car back the way he came, which is pretty much the longest detour you can imagine, but makes sense considering it was the route they'd take to get to my old apartment. He then got into the lane to take us in the complete! opposite! direction! Like, my apartment, and by extension, their house, was Left, so he went Right. I asked him where he was headed, was there something we were supposed to pick up on the way back? And he got that Dementia-look: Scared, lost, confused. "Is this not the way?" he asked. "Is this wrong?"
Yesterday, 2014
- No balance. Teetering while standing. Plus, spilling, knocking things over. Like he's done a million times before, but... I'm just starting to wonder. Personality flaw or symptom? Thinking back, I don't remember him always being like a bull in a china shop. Granted, his alcohol intake has been on a steady rise, and my memories are tainted by the rosy tint of childhood for a large portion of my life. But. He wasn't always The Smasher of Glassware. That sort of... evolved.
I think that my dad has suffered, and continues to suffer, a series of mini-strokes in his brain that are ruining his basic motor functions. I have no basis for this theory, because like I said, I am not a doctor, but if they were looking for cancerous cells during those scans, I think there's a good chance they would've missed this, depending on the size of the damage so far. Or, it could be that he's inherited his mother's Alzheimer's, and in his case it's attacking his coordination and spacial awareness first, rather than his memory per se. I don't know if the brain and that illness can even work that way... But yes, I am convinced that there is something wrong with my dad's brain. And I think he knows it too.
I have no basis for this, other than my own observations and a sneaking suspicion. But I can't help but wonder, Carrie Bradshaw-style: Despite the state of his skin... Is that the pressing issue? Or is it a cloaking device for something much more sinister?
According to my mom, he was put through a CAT-scan and a PET-scan when they discovered the cancer, to see if it had spread, and they found nothing. But Sven brought something else up last night, so I'm documenting this now, because I have a theory that they missed something while they were looking for cancer cells.
My dad is extremely uncoordinated. Mind you, he's never been Swan Lake about, well, anything, but last night was exceptionally bad. He could barely stand, much less pour a glass of wine without missing pretty much the entire table, much less the glass he was aiming for. He'd been drinking all afternoon, but not heavily, and we've both certainly seen him carry a buzz with much more poise than last night. And it made me think, because I've been having this niggling suspicion for quite a few years, now. I'm not a doctor, and as such, my opinion doesn't matter in the least, but I've been right about pretty much everything else that's been ailing him, and somehow that still comes as a surprise to my mother, every single time.
Anyway, this is what I've observed:
Summer 2009
- Suddenly, my dad didn't know how to mount a bicycle. I caught him trying to lift his leg over the cross bar, standing on the ground, like some kind of overweight ballerina, instead of setting the bike in motion and swinging his leg backwards over the back wheel. I had to demonstrate for him to comprehend. He mounted his bike like a big boy that day, and never again. I disregarded it, because I figured it was an Old Age thing. Most old dudes who ride bicycles are on women's bikes. I figured maybe it got too scary, balance-wise, to mount in motion.
Fall, 2011
- My mom sent my dad to pick me up from the office in their car. This is a trip that should've taken 20 minutes, max. After 45 minutes, he had still not arrived. Ok, maybe he got held up at home, or got sent on an errand, I figured. After finally arriving, he turned the car back the way he came, which is pretty much the longest detour you can imagine, but makes sense considering it was the route they'd take to get to my old apartment. He then got into the lane to take us in the complete! opposite! direction! Like, my apartment, and by extension, their house, was Left, so he went Right. I asked him where he was headed, was there something we were supposed to pick up on the way back? And he got that Dementia-look: Scared, lost, confused. "Is this not the way?" he asked. "Is this wrong?"
Yesterday, 2014
- No balance. Teetering while standing. Plus, spilling, knocking things over. Like he's done a million times before, but... I'm just starting to wonder. Personality flaw or symptom? Thinking back, I don't remember him always being like a bull in a china shop. Granted, his alcohol intake has been on a steady rise, and my memories are tainted by the rosy tint of childhood for a large portion of my life. But. He wasn't always The Smasher of Glassware. That sort of... evolved.
I think that my dad has suffered, and continues to suffer, a series of mini-strokes in his brain that are ruining his basic motor functions. I have no basis for this theory, because like I said, I am not a doctor, but if they were looking for cancerous cells during those scans, I think there's a good chance they would've missed this, depending on the size of the damage so far. Or, it could be that he's inherited his mother's Alzheimer's, and in his case it's attacking his coordination and spacial awareness first, rather than his memory per se. I don't know if the brain and that illness can even work that way... But yes, I am convinced that there is something wrong with my dad's brain. And I think he knows it too.
I have no basis for this, other than my own observations and a sneaking suspicion. But I can't help but wonder, Carrie Bradshaw-style: Despite the state of his skin... Is that the pressing issue? Or is it a cloaking device for something much more sinister?