So. My dad didn't make it. I have been working my way through the stages of grief. The denial part was done as soon as he was gone, but I seem to be spending a lot of time commuting between anger and depression.
I feel robbed. It seems to my never-been-to-med-school self that if better decisions had been made my father would still be here. Why did they continue the chemo so long? Shots to boost his white blood cell count followed with another round of chemo the next week. WTF? Why did they give him such crazy high doses of steroids? Why did they remove his spleen without ever identifying the source of the infection that hospitalized him and delayed the surgery? Why, why, why didn't they listen when Sister K said he was getting weaker?
Next stop? Depression. I have been hyper-vigilant about taking my crazy pills, but it is hard to tell if I am slipping. This is what sucks about the crazy: it makes you completely question the validity of your feelings. Am I eating like a linebacker/sleeping 14 hours a day/losing interest in things I enjoy as a completely normal response to my father's death? Or is it just that I need a pharmaceutical adjustment? Gah.
I am managing some semblance of normalcy. I managed to get Z's costume sewn and the pumpkins carved, but despite my mom-in-laws best efforts, my house looks like squatters live in it. My cooking skills have regressed to early college student. Lots of frozen pizza and mac and cheese. I do manage to get a fruit or vegetable into the kids at every meal, so at least I don't have to worry about scurvy. (Or is it rickets? I can never remember the difference.)
At least once a day I start to pick up the phone to ask my dad a question. He was my own personal Google. My dad knew everything. He was an engineer and a computer programmer and a gardener. His moral compass never failed. If he didn't know the solution to my problem (rare), he would think it over and call me back when he figured it out. I can't believe that resource is gone.
Daddies are supposed to be immortal. He was so alive right up to the end. I didn't really believe his time could be so short. I had already gotten his Christmas present.