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Stoker needs a helping paw
Posted a year ago
stokerbramwell's father just passed away, and Stokes is dealing with some urgent expenses that need to resolved as soon as possible. If you can send just a few bucks, that would be great; if not, signal-boosting helps just as much. https://gofund.me/f7a4792f
(message copied almost word-for-word from
jonas' journal. Sorry I couldn't be more creative with my wording)My first journal... and sad news.
Posted 3 years agoI have been on this site for over 13 years, and this is the first journal I have ever posted. But if there's any time to actually say anything on my account, I think now would be it...
Today, at around 10 AM, my father passed away peacefully in bed in the house he and my mother had lived in, re-built and loved for nearly thirty years, from complications due to colorectal cancer. He was 62.
He first got his diagnosis late in February/early March. How he got it we had and still have no idea; most colon cancers are due to lifestyle choices and he should've been the last person to get it, being an active, well-built devoted jogger and marathon runner who didn't smoke, drank moderately and ate healthily. Nevertheless, it had been caught early, and everyone expected that a round of radiotherapy and chemo followed up by surgery should fix everything.
But after having received both the radiotherapy and chemotherapy, it turned out that summer that the tumor hadn't shrunk, and even grown a bit. A second, different type of chemo was tried, but in early October, the doctors could verify that he might as well not have received any treatment at all for all the good it did; the tumor kept growing, and metastised to his liver. He was rushed to hospital due to a bad case of sepsis, and after a few weeks returned home with a hospital bed and visiting nurses to spend his final time where he wanted to be. We had expected that he would live for at least a few more months, maybe even a year. Instead, he only lived for a couple of more weeks. A few days ago, he was badly affected by jaundice, and gradually stopped eating, drinking, and walking. He died quietly and peacefully with his wife and his mother near his side.
This shouldn't have happened. He shouldn't have had colon cancer to begin with, it should've been treatable, and he shouldn't have died within the span of a single year. The doctors themselves are baffled at the way things progressed. But basically, the cancer he got was some sort of new mutation that was resistant to ordinary types of chemo. Maybe something would've worked, but given the quick progression and his weak state at the end, another round of chemotherapy would probably have killed him even faster. He was simply cosmically unlucky. Regardless, my dad didn't want aggressive last-minute treatments, or to be kept alive at all costs. He was at peace with dying, he was very happy and content with the life he had, and he got to die in his beloved home with my mother with whom he had been married for nearly forty years to keep him company. We can only hope that his case might help guide doctors in how to treat this type of cancer in future patients, and that eventually they can be saved even if he couldn't.
The last month of his life was spent mostly in bed. When he was awake and clear-headed, he was always cheerful and glad for every extra day of life that he had. He would read, listen to music, and loved talking with us. The last time I saw him was two days ago, knowing that he was on his last leg. He was thinner and had a bit more trouble speaking than before, but otherwise he looked just like the father I've always known. I told him that I loved him so much and that he was the best father I could've ever had. He said that he loved me too, and that he always thought of the wonderful times we have had together. I'm glad that it got to be my last impression of him and the last words we ever spoke to each other.
And he really was the best father I could have ever had. A truly wonderful, caring man, and the wisest person I know. His main worry during his illness this year was for his family. He always thought of others first, and his sense of compassion, kindness and empathy was boundless. Me, my brother and sister and my mother were indescribably fortunate to have him in our lives. Many great people have passed away at his age, and earlier. We can be grateful that he got to be 62. We simply ought to have had him for many more years. He should've been able to retire, and live out to be an old man with his beloved wife and children at his side. But time and unforeseen circumstances happen to us all, and now they took a man who would've had so much more to give the world.
I have suffered from depression, existential worries and religious doubts now for over half of my 35 years of life. My dad was always there to help guide me through them, explain his own view and reason with me. He has helped shape my values and worldview more than any other person, but he was careful to let me know that he would always love me and support me regardless of which beliefs and values I'd come to hold in my own life.
I must admit that a lot of my worry about Dad passing away was selfish in nature. He was my intellectual and spiritual bedrock, the pillar I could always lean on. I have always been afraid that with him gone, I would lose my faith and beliefs without him to guide me. I knew he couldn't live forever, but I always assumed he would be around for at least another twenty years. It will be a lot harder to face these challenges in my life without him, and I'll just have to see how things go now in the coming years. But he left a great legacy of advice, positive outlooks and hope to inspire me. He always let me know that it's okay to have doubts, okay not to know or understand, that sometimes we simply have to maintain our hopes and do the best with the lives and knowledge we have been given. He certainly did the utmost with what he had, and I can only hope that I can follow his example even if I'm convinced I will never be the great man that he was. He was a devoutly religious person, and he believed that there was a future hope for us all and that we will get to see each other again someday, in whatever way or form it takes. I hope so too, even if my faith is weak compared to his, and that I will be able to hold onto that hope for the rest of my life. Regardless, that I got to know him at all these many years is a blessing I will be eternally grateful for.
Above all, I have to be there now for my family, my mother and siblings, and for Dad's parents, who had the misfortune of seeing their oldest son pass away before them. My mother stayed at home with him throughout his illness, spent several nights at the hospital with him, and showed incredible strength, wisdom and kindness even through a time that was indescribably painful for her. As difficult as this was for me, I can only imagine how it must've been for her. She actually got cancer herself a couple of years ago - Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma - but her treatment went better than any of us could've expected, and she was right as rain at the end of the year, which makes Dad's illness seem even more sad and baffling by comparison. Now I am more happy than ever that she is still with us, and I can only hope that I can be the support that she needs now that she has to face life without her beloved husband.
My younger brother and sister have also been unbelievably strong and caring, and were an invaluable help to Dad and Mom this year. In many ways, they have been stronger and more helpful than I have been. We have shared tears and laughs during this difficult time, and I know that as hard as things are now with Dad no longer with us, we will be there for one another. I am so fortunate to have such siblings and such a wonderful mother in my life.
I have also been incredibly fortunate to have loving and caring friends by my side as well throughout this difficult year. In particular,
Enwood-The-Fox , 
GermaineTheVixen and 
Highwing have been absolutely invaluable in helping me get through these awful times. I cannot describe the importance you have had for me in the last several months, and the incredible support you have been; I don't think I would've been able to keep my sanity without you being there to lend a compassionate ear to my troubles and to offer your kind and wise words and your optimism. Thank you so very, very much *hugs*
Now, there is nothing to do but to face whatever mysteries life has in store for me, for my family and for all of us. If we can do it with half the wisdom and loving kindness that my father showed, we will be very fortunate people.
I'm sorry my first journal couldn't be more cheerful, but I felt I needed to express myself to anyone following me in this momentous time in my life. Thank you all who took the time to read this, be safe and take good care of each other.
Today, at around 10 AM, my father passed away peacefully in bed in the house he and my mother had lived in, re-built and loved for nearly thirty years, from complications due to colorectal cancer. He was 62.
He first got his diagnosis late in February/early March. How he got it we had and still have no idea; most colon cancers are due to lifestyle choices and he should've been the last person to get it, being an active, well-built devoted jogger and marathon runner who didn't smoke, drank moderately and ate healthily. Nevertheless, it had been caught early, and everyone expected that a round of radiotherapy and chemo followed up by surgery should fix everything.
But after having received both the radiotherapy and chemotherapy, it turned out that summer that the tumor hadn't shrunk, and even grown a bit. A second, different type of chemo was tried, but in early October, the doctors could verify that he might as well not have received any treatment at all for all the good it did; the tumor kept growing, and metastised to his liver. He was rushed to hospital due to a bad case of sepsis, and after a few weeks returned home with a hospital bed and visiting nurses to spend his final time where he wanted to be. We had expected that he would live for at least a few more months, maybe even a year. Instead, he only lived for a couple of more weeks. A few days ago, he was badly affected by jaundice, and gradually stopped eating, drinking, and walking. He died quietly and peacefully with his wife and his mother near his side.
This shouldn't have happened. He shouldn't have had colon cancer to begin with, it should've been treatable, and he shouldn't have died within the span of a single year. The doctors themselves are baffled at the way things progressed. But basically, the cancer he got was some sort of new mutation that was resistant to ordinary types of chemo. Maybe something would've worked, but given the quick progression and his weak state at the end, another round of chemotherapy would probably have killed him even faster. He was simply cosmically unlucky. Regardless, my dad didn't want aggressive last-minute treatments, or to be kept alive at all costs. He was at peace with dying, he was very happy and content with the life he had, and he got to die in his beloved home with my mother with whom he had been married for nearly forty years to keep him company. We can only hope that his case might help guide doctors in how to treat this type of cancer in future patients, and that eventually they can be saved even if he couldn't.
The last month of his life was spent mostly in bed. When he was awake and clear-headed, he was always cheerful and glad for every extra day of life that he had. He would read, listen to music, and loved talking with us. The last time I saw him was two days ago, knowing that he was on his last leg. He was thinner and had a bit more trouble speaking than before, but otherwise he looked just like the father I've always known. I told him that I loved him so much and that he was the best father I could've ever had. He said that he loved me too, and that he always thought of the wonderful times we have had together. I'm glad that it got to be my last impression of him and the last words we ever spoke to each other.
And he really was the best father I could have ever had. A truly wonderful, caring man, and the wisest person I know. His main worry during his illness this year was for his family. He always thought of others first, and his sense of compassion, kindness and empathy was boundless. Me, my brother and sister and my mother were indescribably fortunate to have him in our lives. Many great people have passed away at his age, and earlier. We can be grateful that he got to be 62. We simply ought to have had him for many more years. He should've been able to retire, and live out to be an old man with his beloved wife and children at his side. But time and unforeseen circumstances happen to us all, and now they took a man who would've had so much more to give the world.
I have suffered from depression, existential worries and religious doubts now for over half of my 35 years of life. My dad was always there to help guide me through them, explain his own view and reason with me. He has helped shape my values and worldview more than any other person, but he was careful to let me know that he would always love me and support me regardless of which beliefs and values I'd come to hold in my own life.
I must admit that a lot of my worry about Dad passing away was selfish in nature. He was my intellectual and spiritual bedrock, the pillar I could always lean on. I have always been afraid that with him gone, I would lose my faith and beliefs without him to guide me. I knew he couldn't live forever, but I always assumed he would be around for at least another twenty years. It will be a lot harder to face these challenges in my life without him, and I'll just have to see how things go now in the coming years. But he left a great legacy of advice, positive outlooks and hope to inspire me. He always let me know that it's okay to have doubts, okay not to know or understand, that sometimes we simply have to maintain our hopes and do the best with the lives and knowledge we have been given. He certainly did the utmost with what he had, and I can only hope that I can follow his example even if I'm convinced I will never be the great man that he was. He was a devoutly religious person, and he believed that there was a future hope for us all and that we will get to see each other again someday, in whatever way or form it takes. I hope so too, even if my faith is weak compared to his, and that I will be able to hold onto that hope for the rest of my life. Regardless, that I got to know him at all these many years is a blessing I will be eternally grateful for.
Above all, I have to be there now for my family, my mother and siblings, and for Dad's parents, who had the misfortune of seeing their oldest son pass away before them. My mother stayed at home with him throughout his illness, spent several nights at the hospital with him, and showed incredible strength, wisdom and kindness even through a time that was indescribably painful for her. As difficult as this was for me, I can only imagine how it must've been for her. She actually got cancer herself a couple of years ago - Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma - but her treatment went better than any of us could've expected, and she was right as rain at the end of the year, which makes Dad's illness seem even more sad and baffling by comparison. Now I am more happy than ever that she is still with us, and I can only hope that I can be the support that she needs now that she has to face life without her beloved husband.
My younger brother and sister have also been unbelievably strong and caring, and were an invaluable help to Dad and Mom this year. In many ways, they have been stronger and more helpful than I have been. We have shared tears and laughs during this difficult time, and I know that as hard as things are now with Dad no longer with us, we will be there for one another. I am so fortunate to have such siblings and such a wonderful mother in my life.
I have also been incredibly fortunate to have loving and caring friends by my side as well throughout this difficult year. In particular,
Enwood-The-Fox , 
GermaineTheVixen and 
Highwing have been absolutely invaluable in helping me get through these awful times. I cannot describe the importance you have had for me in the last several months, and the incredible support you have been; I don't think I would've been able to keep my sanity without you being there to lend a compassionate ear to my troubles and to offer your kind and wise words and your optimism. Thank you so very, very much *hugs* Now, there is nothing to do but to face whatever mysteries life has in store for me, for my family and for all of us. If we can do it with half the wisdom and loving kindness that my father showed, we will be very fortunate people.
I'm sorry my first journal couldn't be more cheerful, but I felt I needed to express myself to anyone following me in this momentous time in my life. Thank you all who took the time to read this, be safe and take good care of each other.
