Yesterday I Had No Hope - The Evil That is Cancer

Since Joe was diagnosed in January of 2010 with stage IV colon cancer,  I had hope that somehow he would beat the odds.   And even though I heard the doctor use the word incurable, I still had hope that Joe would prove the doctors wrong.
Up until a few months ago, Joe looked healthy and he was strong.

How could this young, strong, healthy looking man be sick?  He was a young father.  He should be there to see his son grow up. His son should be able to get to know the gentle and kind man his father is.

Joe and Domani

Me Domani and Joe

His marriage was young, he and his wife, Anne, still had years of love and experiences ahead of them.

Joe and Anne

Yes, I just knew that the man in these photos would beat the odds.

But during the past two months his health and condition have rapidly declined as evil cancer starts to win the battle.   He has been unable to eat much and becomes weaker and weaker each day.   

But even so, Joe continued to fight and I still had hope.

Yesterday,  Wednesday, was Joe's normal scheduled day to receive chemo.  

It took Joe, with Anne's help, 2 hours to get ready to go for the one hour drive to the facility where he gets his treatment.  

After each little task, such as, getting up out of the chair, walking to the bathroom, dressing, putting on his shoes, he would have to stop and rest.  

Joe's regular doctor was out so Joe was seen by another doctor.  This was the first time that Joe had seen this doctor.  After the standard preliminary blood tests, and exam, the doctor very bluntly and coldly told Joe and Anne that at this point treatment of any kind would not be effective and there would not be any attempts of further treatment.

Joe and Anne asked if a social worker was available to talk with.   Apparently, this doctor was not very helpful with that request and mumbled something about the fact that she did not think that service was available at that particular facility. 

I know that to the doctors and nurses who deal with cancer on a 24/7 basis this is just another day, another patient.   

But this day, it was Ann'e husband.  This day it was our son.   This day it was Jen and Jimmy's brother.
This day it was Uncle Joe.

No, this day was not just another day for us.

Yesterday was one of the hardest days of my 36 year old son, Joe's  life. 

And even though during the past two months,  I could see he was starting to struggle, I still had hope.

And even though on Thanksgiving day, as  I watched him barely able to eat a small piece of turkey I still had hope.

Last night Joe asked Anne to call our family together.   Ross and I, Joe's father, Ken, my daughter Jen and her husband Derek, my son Jimmy and his wife Jeannie, Anne's parents, Marie and Dave, Anne's sister, Karen and her husband Chris all gathered in Joe and Anne's living room.

Anne explained to us that at this point the goal is to make Joe as comfortable as possible and to make the most of his time here.

Joe sat quietly and listened.

There were a lot of tears shed as we all tried to take in what Anne was saying and tried to make sense of the unfairness that is evil cancer.

As I watched Jimmy sitting next to his big brother, holding  his hand and crying,  I thought about how they fought when they were kids.   And I thought about special their relationship has become.

As I sat next to Joe and held his hand,  through my tears, I mouthed "I love you, Joe".

Joe looked at me and weakly said, "I know."

He looked at me as if he wanted to say more.   He finally gathered his strength and said to me,

"I still have time."

Yesterday was the hardest day of my life.  Yesterday I had no hope.