The Eagle Has Landed (Prologue)

Welcome to Hellville
There is no joy in Mudville...Nashville...Nolensville, or whatever the hell, ‘Ville’ it is in which I live. As a matter of fact, ‘Hellville’ is probably the most apt description of the place in which my family and I have resided over the past week and-a-half.

The bad news we received a week ago last Saturday came to fruition in the wee hours of this past Sunday morning, June 7, 2009, and the way it has affected me makes me feel even worse than I could have imagined.

My Father In-Law, Ed Carpenter, moved on from this world, to his new digs in Heaven, sometime between 4:30 and 5:00 A.M. CST Sunday morning, ending a long and painful battle with a variety of cancers that began sweeping his body about three years ago. He would have celebrated his 78th birthday next month.

Having successfully battled various skin cancers throughout his adult life, Ed was no stranger to a disease, once quite accurately referred to as ‘consumption.’

He was a tough cookie; a real fighter. But this was one battle he just wasn’t destined to win.

Skin cancer couldn’t stop him; two separate heart bypass surgeries couldn’t knock him down. He took a lickin’ and kept on tickin,’ y’all.

However three years ago, he noticed some blood in his urine. Cancer had this time established a foothold — one that it would never relinquish.

No matter how aggressively or quickly the doctors moved to get ahead of and treat his disease, Ed’s cancer always seemed to be one step ahead of the game.

It started out in his prostate and bladder; they irradiated this and scraped that and thought they'd gotten it.

Then it showed up in his colon; they opened him up, cut it out and thought they'd gotten it.

Then it returned once again to his bladder and also latched on to one of his kidneys; they were preparing to go in and surgically remove those infected organs, hoping to finally catch up with this Speed Racer Cancer, but then came a week ago last Saturday.

Hell Week Begins
Michelle’s parents were experiencing a trying time. Ever since Ed’s colon cancer surgery in February, his overall health had rapidly regressed. His sudden back pain, continued weight loss and overall weakness were becoming an increasing concern.

In order to even survive this proposed bladder/kidney surgery, it was imperative that Ed at least make some strides toward strengthening his constitution; instead, however, it appeared things were going in the opposite direction.

But even prior to his colon surgery, the indicators were there. Just before that time he had developed what was diagnosed as shingles, an extremely painful viral nerve-related disorder that made his shoulders and back painful to even the slightest touch or pressure.

He’d also recently begun experiencing what was thought to be sciatica, bringing with it a burning pain that shot down through the hips and into his legs. But to me, someone who has been no stranger to back pain or sciatica, it all seemed too sudden. Why now? Why would he be having all these problems at once? It just didn’t make sense.

Before they scheduled the surgery, his bladder oncologist, who would be performing the organ removal, wanted to call Ed in for a bone scan and hopefully surmise the source of his back pain. The diagnosis was acute arthritis, which sort of made sense, but not enough to convince me that his problems weren’t being caused by something more serious.

A week ago last Saturday, in an effort to give her Mom a break from cooking, Michelle invited her folks over to our house for dinner. However her Dad was already feeling so poorly that by the time they arrived, he had to go straight to the front bedroom and lay down. He was in excruciating pain. His back hurt so badly that any movement for him at all was nearly unbearable.

Michelle and her Mom were obviously worried. That diagnosis of arthritis rang more hollow each minute we witnessed his pitiful condition. We all began to see the handwriting on the wall. Ed was losing the race.

Michelle suggested that we take him to the hospital, where at least they could make him comfortable, and hopefully figure out what was going on with his back. They took him on while I stayed behind at home.

Michelle and her Mom stayed until he was finally checked in to the ER, which was unusually packed for a Saturday night. I waited up until they arrived back home well after midnight. They were obviously drained, both emotionally and physically. I told Michelle I would stand wait for the call that was to come from the hospital, giving us an update on her father’s status.

About 4:30 A.M. that call came, and it wasn’t good news. The nurse reported that the CT scan they took indicated that the cancer had spread, but that we would need to wait until later that morning to get the specifics from the doctor.

Uncomfortably Numb
When the horrible truth was revealed, I remember the feeling as being somewhat similar to that of the time I broke my back in a gymnastics meet and was myself rushed to the Emergency Room. I had suffered a compression fracture of my fifth lumbar vertebrae, near the tailbone. Ironically, they gave me morphine, just as they were now giving it to my Father In-Law. However it wasn’t the circumstantial coincidence that I was thinking about at that moment, but rather the memory of the sensation.

I just felt numb, but not to the extent that I couldn’t feel the pain of my injury; the experience was much more akin to a feeling of helplessness. I was comfortably numb, as Pink Floyd might say — but certainly not comforted. The pain was still there; I could definitely feel it, but it was sort of like listening to on-hold music; you can hear it, but it’s somewhat masked; muffled; you recognize the melody, but you can’t quite connect with it — as if it were just out of the reach of your senses. It’s a weird feeling, but the most important aspect of it to me was that while I may not have been fully aware of my pain, I was still very well aware that something was wrong — very wrong.

Ed’s cancer had now spread throughout his body. In addition to his bladder and kidney, it was now in his liver and spine as well — the latter of which was indeed the source of his excruciating back pain.

The surgery was called off. The race was now hopelessly lost; the cancer had lapped the field and was heading in for the checkered flag. They gave my Father In-Law 4-8 weeks.

It turned out to be 4-8 days.


Next: What a drag it is, getting old…