I have thought about blogging for a few years, whether about motherhood, or lawyering, or surviving a loved one’s addiction, or finally admitting you need therapy, or some other fairly relatable topic. At the moment I just need to get the thoughts out of my head.

A colleague (lawyer) died about a month ago unexpectedly in his sleep. I didn’t know him well, but he was someone I had called for advice and someone who was always full of stories I enjoyed listening too. I believe he had at least one child who was still in school. I saw another colleague at Court shortly after his death and she was sharing with me how hard it had been for her to lose him (they had previously worked together and were still working in the same office building, i.e. riding the elevator together a lot). I said, “I know dying in your sleep is everyone’s dream, but it’s hard for those left behind who never really get to say goodbye.”

A few weeks after I made that statement my father was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer. I felt like I was taking it pretty well at first. “It is what it is,” I kept saying, promising my parents we would all get through this. When my parents would tear up, I would stay strong and assure them it will all work out. I should mention, my father is also my law partner so this hits on a personal and professional level.

I stayed strong, for the most part. There was an incident where I started sobbing at Court because one of my cases got reset without me being there (opposing counsel must have been there earlier in the morning and got the case reset prior to our scheduled hearing at 9:30am) to a date I was not available. This really isn’t a big deal, I’ll get it continued or file available dates ahead of the next hearing. As I was explaining the issue to the Judge, though, I told her I couldn’t count on my father to cover court appearances for me because he was recently diagnosed with cancer and I didn’t know what that was going to look like. I’m not sure what happened, but that was my breaking point and I just started sobbing. The Judge has known my father since they were in Junior High, so she was very kind. I still felt horrible for getting that emotional in a courtroom full of people. Also, the Judge had lost a son a couple years ago and that is a thousand times worse than losing a parent, so I felt pretty guilty crying in front of her. She was very kind though, and I am confident she is the kind of person who does not believe grief is a competition (a subject for another day perhaps).

As previously stated, I’m a lawyer, not a doctor or anything related to the medical field. I’m not even one of those lawyers who does sexy things like personal injury or medical malpractice. I know very little about the medical field, but I do know I’ve always heard pancreatic cancer is one of the most painful cancers.

“I know dying in your sleep is everyone’s dream, but it’s hard for those left behind…” I keep thinking about that statement lately: when I see my father barely able to eat anything, when I see my father crying as he’s hugging my youngest son and my daughter, and when my father starts trying to apologize about how he’s afraid he won’t be able to contribute much at work. He’s suffering so much in the process of making things easier for me. I get to say good-bye, I get a chance to savor all the little moments we have left, I get to prepare my children for his passing, I get to plan for whatever transitions our law firm may need to make. I’m getting what my colleague’s family and office mates didn’t get last month. Yet, I wish I could spare my parents all this suffering.

My older children are older than I was when I lost my first grandparent to cancer: a plague that would ultimately take three-fourths of my biological grandparents. My mom was 36 when she had to bury her mother. I’m 32. They don’t have the biopsy results yet, so we haven’t been told a life expectancy or treatment options yet. I may make it to 36 before I have to say good-bye to my father, but I don’t want to root for longevity for my father if he’s going to continue to be in as much pain as he’s in.

At this point it may be worth mentioning my father had been in pain for a while prior to the diagnosis, to the point he was being quite unpleasant such that my mother and I were starting to feel rather bitter about how hateful and impatient he was being. He had also lost eighty pounds, which he claimed was just because he was eating less. He would tell me things like, “I’ve just trained myself to eat less,” and “sometimes my stomach would hurt, but now I think I’ve shrunk my stomach so I don’t get as hungry anymore.” At one point this past year my uncle was diagnosed with cancer and when my aunt was describing the symptoms they missed that should have tipped them off my mother and I noticed my father had most of them. That still wasn’t enough to get my father to go to the doctor though. My mother and my father’s friends had all noticed he was smoking a lot more marijuana than he used to. In hindsight, my mother thinks the excessive marijuana usage probably masked his pain for a while, allowing the cancer to spread. I believe they are now telling him it’s in his pancreas, liver, and spleen, although it may be other places as well. Those are just the places I recall being mentioned to me. Go to the doctor, people!

My father finally went to the doctor mid-December and a series of rather urgent tests were conducted, landing on a diagnosis of terminal pancreatic cancer on December 22, 2022. Merry Fucking Christmas.

Terrible timing, right? On the bright side, we all have time to adequately show him our love and appreciation; and I have time to get the law firm in order. On the flip side, I don’t think my father doubted my love for him and I hate that the cause of his demise works out such that he will likely suffer a great deal.

Perhaps I should step back and stop making it all about me. It is entirely possible God has some other plan for all of this. My father lost his faith years ago. One can hope this will give him an opportunity to find it again.