A Summary

My story is not unique. My father has Glioblastoma Multiforme, aka GBMF, aka brain cancer. He was diagnosed in April of 2008. We came home and he was lying on the floor unresponsive. He was conscious but not really there, if you know what I mean. He was rushed to the hospital, intubated en route, and quickly sedated on arrival. He had had and was having seizures; he is not an epileptic. Terrifying.

Let me, at this point, say that prior to this day, my father was, quite literally, the healthiest man that I knew. Growing up, my father and I had an extremely close relationship. My father was always my hero, my superman.

The diagnosis was the most aggressive form of brain cancer one can have; a form of cancer typically non responsive to treatment. I went home and did the research: 12 - 18 months. You always think that you know what cancer means. You think you know what that word entails. You think you do; you don't, but you will. Just give it time.

Since then my father has had seven surgeries: two to remove tumors, 1 to remove an infected plate in his head, 1 to put in a shunt, 1 to repair skin that wouldn't heal because he has no immune system (the chemo killed it), 1 to remove the shunt because it go infected, and 1 to put in an external shunt. That does not include the various hospital stays he has had for different infections and seizures that he has had.

This is just a brief summary of the last two years. I am starting this blog to get my thoughts and feelings out. Somethings you want to say to someone, and you just can't. It wouldn't be "appropriate." Sometimes I just want to shake my fist at the sky and scream at the top of my lungs. Sometimes...