Let’s start fresh. My last post was May of 2023. I had my final surgery, swapping out the hard boobies for soft silicone gummy bear boobies. All went well. I continue to have check-ups with my oncologist and surgeon (super aggressive massages). In fact I have both check-ups again next week. This post isn’t so much about me personally as it is a reminder to check EVERYTHING.
I never really posted about why my mom lived with me during my cancer journey, and I hope she doesn’t get upset now when I post it, but I feel compelled to open up for the greater good. Advocate for yourself on whatever you’re dealing with. My parents divorced after almost 48 years of marriage. They separated literally a week and a half after my first chemo treatment and I moved my mom straight in to our house. Since that time my relationship with my dad was fractured. In all honesty, my blog post tonight will probably be unstructured, chaotic and messy! I just want to get it all out.
I’m going to fast forward to June 2024. My dad called me and asked if I could take him to a doctor appointment. He needed an endoscopy, he had been having stomach issues, problems swallowing and was losing weight. He needed a driver for his procedure. Sure. I probably talked/texted my dad once a week since he and my mom separated. I was hurt and angry at the time and never felt I received an acceptable explanation, so communicating once or twice a week was fine for me. However, when my dad calls and asks for help, I will put issues aside and step up. I took him to his appointment. I sat in the waiting room while he had his endoscopy. The nurse comes out and tells me the doctor is requesting that I come to the back in my dads recovery room. This doesn’t seem normal or good.
It’s awkward when I enter the room with my dad still in his hospital gown. I’m uncomfortable on where to sit, how to sit and what to say. I don’t know why the doctor called me here. I pull the guest chair next to my dad and put my hand on his arm. It feels comfortable. The doctor walks in and every piece of comfort I just felt was exploded. I feel it in my heart. The doctor begins to talk and tell us that while we have to wait for final pathology he’s been doing this for over 20 years and he knows what he sees. Cancer. FUCK CANCER.
Two weeks later, while at an annual family Fourth of July Michigan getaway, I got text from my dad with the final pathology. Stage 4 Esophageal Cancer. Ugh. I’m certain I didn’t have the right words to say to him. But I’m also certain I told him we would fight this together. I didn’t tell anyone about my dad’s diagnosis that entire week we spent in Michigan. I didn’t feel it was the time or place to drop that bomb. I held it in (I did tell my husband though, because of course I broke down and needed his strength). After our great week in Michigan we came home and I went to my moms house. They’re divorced now, but I felt she would want to know. I went to her house by myself and gave her the news. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Her response, “What can I do? I want to help.” She is a special kind of angel!
For the next handful of months our family took my dad to oncology appointments, Dr. appointments, chemo treatments, etc. He was doing great! Until he wasn’t. November 21 my dad texted me that he felt off balance and was seeing double vision. It was the first snow we saw here in our area. He had a follow-up Dr. appointment at 10am. I told him I’d come get him and take him to the appointment. In true dad fashion, he told me the roads were bad and I shouldn’t drive (he lives 40 minutes away). In true daughter fashion, “Fuck that! You can’t drive, I’m on way.”
My dad almost fell twice getting into my car and getting out of my car. He walked into the doctors office and I put him in a wheelchair for comfort. That was the last time my dad walked by himself. He was admitted to the hospital. Mostly tests for a stroke, all were clear; Xray, CT scan. Then the MRI. FUCK. Cancer has spread to spine and brain (spinal fluid). His spirits are up, he’s ready to fight this. He’s still having trouble walking on his own, but he’s very good with a walker. 3 days later he’s released. Yeah!
Dad comes home, gets around pretty ok by himself in the walker. He lives alone. Mom and I both come back to get him to his follow up appointments. It’s seeming harder and harder for him to get up from his chair, stand in the shower… UGH.
December 3, Dad has an appointment with his general Dr., but he falls in the garage and just doesn’t have the strength to make it to the appointment. December 6, meet with General Dr. We had to call for help to get dad back into car. When we got home we had to call 911 for a lift assist to get dad out of car and into house. Ended up having to call 911 again to bring dad back into ER so he could be admitted. He just can’t stand by himself anymore. This is where I will go rogue… While he was in the hospital I messaged the oncologist on duty and asked if there was a different chemo that could help. That oncologist called me and we talked through what was happening. I asked if a different chemo could be an option. Could he stay in hospital and get treatment while there. All the questions… I’m not exaggerating when I say this oncologist talked to me like I was a child and explained how chemo is expensive. Look asshole! I told him, “I am a breast cancer survivor and I am well aware of the costs of chemo. Tell me if there is something that can help and then we’ll fight insurance.” Apparently I earned the title of “pushy daughter” because a nurse asked me the next day if that was me. Damn straight I’ll wear those stripes. Dad was then sent to a rehab facility. It wasn’t doing anything. He was deteriorating too quickly.
December 16 we took my dad to his oncology appointment. The Doctor (not the same as in the hospital) was so compassionate and honest. “There is nothing in my heart that I can recommend that will put you in a better place. In fact, it will most likely get worse. Our best next step is to make you comfortable.” 😭
The Dr left the room and my dad, my mom and I sat there. Looking at each other. My dad told us, “I’ll be fine. I just want to go home.”
That’s what we did. We brought dad home on December 18th. Sunday December 22 we brought our kids and my niece to visit Dad. Just as kids would be, they felt awkward. We had them play games on the carpet, while Papa laid in his bed in the living room. When it was time to go we had all kids give him a hug to say goodbye. December 23rd my brother, sister-in-law and nephew visited Dad and then late that evening, Dad (aka Papa, aka Ron) passed away peacefully, with his Angel of a (ex)wife by his side.
Life is too short to hold grudges. Life is too short to be stubborn. Today my mom and I picked up my dads remains from the crematory and it was more emotional than I thought it would be. I feel sad, heartbroken, angry, betrayed and yet I still feel all are warranted and validated. I will forever miss my dad and I will forever love my dad and his great memories will continue. That is all that matters.
Please do your annual doctor appointments!!!
I love you dad.
UPDATE: SERVICES FOR RONALD J. JASKI
Celebration of Life (Open House – Share stories and memories with family and friends)
April 5th, 2025
11am – 2pm (Honor Guard Presentation at 1pm)
VFW McHenry Post 4600
3002 IL-120, McHenry, IL