I know what I am about to write is a conversation I need to have with Super Dad. But for some reason, I haven't been able to conduct this exchange yet. I suppose because I don't want it to be real but it is as it is impacted both Super Dad's life and therefore my life as well.
Super Dad is sick. You see, five or six years ago, Super Dad had prostrate cancer and it was removed via laparoscopic surgery. As a result of this surgery, Super Dad endured pain attacks because several nerve bundles were damaged - so much for state of the art. Around the office, people always stated Super Dad had a super pain tolerance as he was constantly in pain. I never inquired as to the details.
As our relationship evolved, Super Dad told me about the initial bout of prostrate cancer and the resulting pain. He shared that he'd had surgery at the Jacksonville Mayo Clinic about 1 1/2 years ago for the resulting pain and that did the trick.
Mid-June the radiating pain came back and it is back with a vengeance. He hasn't been able to work or find pills that work to dull the pain without knocking him out and rendering him useless. Two weeks ago, Super Dad finally shared with the depth of the situation - he has a minimum of one pain attach daily that lasts for approximately four hours. During that time, he cannot move, sit up - basically he cannot do anything but lay there and ride it out. I had no idea. The pain is 50% worse than it was pre-Jacksonville surgery.
So here I sit in Austin, while he is battling this alone in Georgia. He has told me he doesn't want me to see him like this but I do not like him being alone. The best doctors in Georgia cannot provide him any answers or relief. As a result, Super Dad has started the process to be seen at the big Mayo Clinic. I hope beyond hope that the Mayo's best and brightest have a plan because living a life eating oxycontin is not the answer.
I never thought Super Dad and I would have a conversation where he would tell me "the side effect of these pills are that they will take years off my life". I am having a hard enough time processing the pain issue but to add that there is no answer and the feeble options carry deadly consequences, I simply want to scream.
Before Super Dad moved off our account in May, he told me that he wished we would have gotten together soon, that he wouldn't have bothered with the woman he was seeing around Thanksgiving and I would have lost Bolt sooner, so we would have had that much more time together. At the time I told him I looked at it as better late than never. But now with him being incapacitated to some level, I think back on his statement often.
While he is 18 years my senior and has this serious health issue, I keep coming back to how much fun we had together for six months, adding in the way he makes me laugh, he understands me, genuinely cares and loves me. None of us make it out of this alive. I ask myself would I rather know ten years of bliss and pure happiness than never have that wonderment in my life? I think about Alexander - how cancer struck him at 32 years old and his fabulous boyfriend has stayed by his side unwavering about the 'what ifs'. I always come back to the things I love about Super Dad and the way I feel when I hear his voice. I don't believe that this wonderful, long-awaited man would have been sent to cross my path briefly.
I despise the feeling of helplessness that is permeating me. We are far apart and I hate that I cannot just pop in on him after work to check on him; I cannot take him to his doctor appointments; I cannot be there daily to simply be there with him so he doesn't have to endure this alone. I feel that I am letting him down.
Nothing in my life is ever simple and straightforward. However, this time - just this one time - I truly wish it would be. I am ready for the happily ever after.