One of my greatest sources of stress after my father’s initial brain cancer diagnosis was not knowing what to expect of him over the forthcoming days, weeks, and months. Doctors had been clear about the timeline for medical procedures but not on the speed or severity with which the cancer would affect his functions. I wanted to be prepared for every eventuality as to manage his care and reduce the impact on my family. The last thing I wanted was to scramble for a solution at the last minute while he suffered.

At the time I had no way of knowing how unique such information is to the individual patient. However, in hindsight, I still feel some guidance on what to expect could have been provided. Of course, any such list would be overwhelming to a new patient or caregiver, so it’s possible that such information is withheld to maintain hope, but preparedness has its own benefits. I write this post with some trepidation. Sometimes it’s better not knowing what is going to happen but I also feel that caregivers shouldn’t be completely unprepared for eventualities.

The following timeline depicts approximately when my father started experiencing certain difficulties. Unless noted, the medical problems listed are not related to the medical treatments they are listed under, that was done to provide a sense of progression at major milestones. Once certain functionality was impacted, it rarely improved and usually worsened. This list only pertains to my father during his year of brain cancer treatment but I hope it may provide some guidance to others.

Milestone:
Pre-biopsy

    Symptoms:

  • Dizziness
  • Difficulty following instructions
  • Unsteady walk
  • Inability to write

Post-operation (biopsy)

  • Confusion
  • Fear
  • Unsteady standing and walking
  • Weakness in limbs on side opposite the affected hemisphere

Chemotherapy (Temodar, round one) and radiation

  • Some loss of peripheral vision in one eye
  • Difficulty with numbers/incapable of dialing a phone
  • Forgetting words and sometimes speaking incoherently
  • Irregular sleeping habits
  • Minor incontinence and soiling
  • Some short-term memory loss
  • Required cane for stability
  • Sense of taste failing or skewed

Chemotherapy (Temodar, round two, no more radiation)

  • Depression
  • Loneliness
  • Some loss of peripheral vision in both eyes
  • Unable to focus on any one thing for too long (especially television)
  • Further weakness and loss of control of limbs on side opposite the affected hemisphere
  • Some dementia (specifically asking weird questions like, “Is this [clock] real?)
  • Sensitivity to cold and heat
  • Constipation (possibly from chemotherapy)
  • Noticeable muscle atrophy (most likely from continued use of steroids)
  • Loss of appetite
  • Beginning to fall
  • More confusion and difficulty in making choices
  • Asked to be allowed to die if his chances were diminishing
  • Began to realize that death was very likely

Chemotherapy (Avastin, round one)

  • Increased need for wheelchair due to instability
  • Continued muscle atrophy (most likely from steroids)
  • Increase in falls
  • Severe incontinence and more soiling
  • Uncontrolled bleeding from scrapes (side effect from Avastin)
  • Much harder to formulate thoughts and speak
  • Pains, especially in limbs on side opposite of hemisphere affected
  • Significant short-term memory loss

Final hospitalization and in-patient hospice

  • Unable to walk
  • Fatigue from sitting
  • Nearly unable to speak, very difficult to think
  • Nearly no short-term memory
  • Long-term memory very intact (he recognized people he hadn’t seen in years)
  • Still able to express a smile as well as show anger
  • Increased  pains

Final days

  • In and out of consciousness
  • Completely unable to speak, barely able to acknowledge yes/no
  • Eventually coma and death

In future posts I’ll speak about how I prepared and/or handled some of these issues and how my father reacted to the circumstance. As far as the final days go, there is a great page by Diane Phillips that lists in detail the changes a brain cancer patient goes through towards the end, with perspective for the caregiver that is invaluable.

Brain Hospice is the site
The symptom timeline page
The end-stage landmarks page

 

{ 1 comment }

It’s still so hard to deal with this topic. It was always hard to talk about the caregiving process and my father’s brain cancer while I was in the thick of it, so writing about it in my free time became unthinkable. I always had the hope of using what I had learned to make it easier on others going through the same things and hopefully I can share what I learned to help someone.

He died in October. So here I am 8 months later and it’s still hard to talk about my father’s final year. I question if the course of action I took was right but with no experience in such matters (thankfully) there’s no way to think this through without hindsight.

I would like to structure the next few blog posts to actually be more helpful than just emotional reflection and I will do my best to share what knowledge I accumulated. I’m not looking forward to reliving any of it. It turns out his death wasn’t hard; watching him suffer for a year, seeing him recognize his growing incapabilities, witnessing his pain, and mostly, having all his life and death decisions in my hands, that was the worst of it and 8 months laters I’m still reeling.

{ 2 comments }

I posted this at Caring.com earlier today. Please respond either on this site or on the forum, here.

My father was diagnosed with brain cancer about 10 months ago. It was insinuated by the doctors his life expectancy was going to be 6 months. He’s lived with me and my family the entire time.

He gets home aid services through Medicaid/Medicare, which has been a huge help. Without it I doubt we would have gotten this far but our cramped living conditions and just having to deal with his situation daily is wearing out my family. I’m not even so sure it’s best for him to be home anymore.

His condition is similar to Alzheimer’s with the dementia and loss of memory. There is no pain and lucidity comes in waves that last a week or so. Still he can’t make decisions and never knows the time or comprehend quantities. He’s mentally disabled and physically weak but we still get him outside everyday. He’s definitely depressed, as are we all.

I have investigated inpatient hospice centers in New York City area, like Calvary. It is a hospital, and they state he is not far enough along to accept him, and I agree, it’s not the place for him right now.

From what I know of nursing homes, the individual is somewhat independent, and he cannot be left alone. I am wondering if finding a home that specializes in Alzheimer’s care is the appropriate option.

I’ve repeatedly asked health workers and social workers what the options are and they never give me any information that seems helpful. Usually they tell me they don’t know any options besides home hospice care or Calvary. There just seem to be no options and yet when I surf through http://ourparents.com, there seem to be options.

He is still getting treatment, because his condition has plateaued, and that must continue. I want him to get the right level of attention and of course I would still maintain my commitment to him and his health but my family also needs its life back.

I’m reaching out to some nursing centers through consultants but I’m really not sure what my options are. I really feel like I shouldn’t be this confused but I can’t seem to get the right answers anywhere.

Thoughts?

{ 1 comment }

At times, evil thoughts

27 April 2010 Emotional

Yesterday, suddenly, my father’s right side became so weak he could not stand. His speech slurred. It reminded me of when I admitted him to hospital back in October when I thought he was having a stroke. My thoughts were in contrast to what I should have been feeling. I should have been in great [...]

Read the full article →

It takes six months to absorb that your loved-one is dying

9 April 2010 Emotional

Only now am I starting to focus on and compartmentalize my various responsibilities. My father was diagnosed with brain cancer in early October 2009 and since then it has been a whirlwind of tasks and emotions. I realized just last week that I am starting to keep my feelings in check and not feel distraught [...]

Read the full article →

The caregiver’s dilemma

22 March 2010 Personal

I started this blog to share my experiences with other caregivers lost in the medical, financial, and legal chaos that ensues from a life-threatening diagnosis. Instead I find an unavoidable urge to vent about the misery that has consumed me. Jonathan Rauch’s article in the Atlantic is like reading a better written summary of my [...]

Read the full article →

The effect of my father’s beligerence

17 March 2010 Emotional

His reactions are difficult to understand. To my wife, he can’t be in the same room with her. To the home health aide, he often gets angry and utters obscenities. To me, he is always kind and understanding, or at the very least, silent about his disapprovals. To the children, my father is lovely. For [...]

Read the full article →

The pressure for a second opinion

15 March 2010 Emotional

Prior to confronting a life-threatening health event, all the information we are societally provided is engineered towards the best possible medical outcome, so it is a shock when a medical outcome is just one of several matters that must be considered when the cancer bombshell is dropped. For example, in the American medical “system” inadequate [...]

Read the full article →

The complexities of humor

9 March 2010 Emotional

Humor seems so simple. If what was happening to father wasn’t so terrible, the changes in his thought process as a result of the brain cancer would be fascinating. Most recently we noticed he is not able to comprehend humorous circumstances like he used to. The impact on his brain certainly furthered the minor paranoia [...]

Read the full article →

Not all brain cancer is the same

8 March 2010 Medical

As I write these entries, I won’t be generalizing. The problems I mention are really very specific to my father’s situation. As far as I know, brain cancer can affect any region of the brain. Because our brain has compartmentalized tasks and brain cancer, at least initially, affects a tiny area, the impact on the [...]

Read the full article →