Dad Updates

Thursday October 9, 2025

Dad went to be with Jesus this morning. (Not clear on the exact time.) Carmen said that she thought he was sleeping. Then the hospice care person, who was going to bathe him, discovered he had passed.

No more pain. No more waiting. He’s with Jesus, and that’s all the matters.

Love you all!

Tuesday September 9, 2025

Rick and I went to visit Dad on Tuesday, because over the weekend Carmen had called me to say that “we’d better come sooner rather than later because your Dad doesn’t think he has much time left.” She also called the local grandkids to come visit. She later told Colton to “invite your mother too.” We arrived and Colton, Amber and Katrina were there visiting with Dad.

Later that morning, an “end of life doula” (provided by hospice) came to visit. She sat down with Carmen to give her emotional support and let her talk about her experience, and gave her some suggestions on what to do, and how to reach out for more support if she needed.

Thursday September 4, 2025

I talked to Dad on the phone this morning. He was in good spirits. He said he felt “really great” this morning. He was sitting in his chair, and Carmen was on the couch next to him, adding a little to the conversation on speaker phone. His big report was that he met with the oncologist yesterday, for the final time. They told him “there is nothing more we can do” and “thanks for being such a great patient.” And then he added, “now I’m just in the Lord’s hands, and I just have to wait.” Then he added, “Carmen is being such a great help to me. She is doing such a great job.” And I could hear Carmen say, “ohh [chuckle].” (She needed to hear him say that.) I asked if she was still able to help him get to the bathroom, and he said, “Ohh yeah, she’s doing great with that.” Then she said “tell him how much you weigh.” He said, “Oh yeah, I’m under 100 pounds now.” She added, “He’s all bones.”

They also met with the hospice nurse yesterday, and they’ve added an additional 2 times per week visits from a CNA (certified nursing assistant) to come and help with bathing and other tasks. Dad had been very specific with hospice to add more help for Carmen. I also texted George the hospice nurse on the side to hear his perspective on his condition. George said,

“He is very frail. He told me the Dr. told him he only had a week left. (Carmen denied that was said) He is still fairly independent. He said the pain was better controlled. I have no idea how much time he has, but I suspect longer than a week.”

Toward the end of my phone conversation I said, “Okay, I’ll check in with you in a couple of days.” To which he replied with a chuckle, “You may not want to wait that long.”

For those of you who can, I recommend giving him a call and let him know you’re thinking about him and praying for him.

Friday August 8, 2025

Not much has happened recently with dad. He’s had several radiation treatments, but they are taking his energy away. The hospice nurse has indicated that the oncologist (VA doctor) has recommended more pain medication. The name of it is “Gabapentin” which helps with nerve pain, often used for sciatica. The hospice nurse also said, “if this doesn’t work well, we’ll stop it, and try something else.”

Friday July 25, 2025

I called to follow up on his condition and pain. He was doing much better. After he went to the radiologist this morning he “learned that he could continue taking his medicine before going to the radiation appointment.” The reason for his pain yesterday was that he stopped taking his pain pills, thinking that it would interfere with the radiation treatment. He knows better now. Poor guy.

Thursday July 24, 2025

Dad called me this afternoon to tell me that he was in a lot of pain. The pain has now encompassed the right side of his chest. I told him to call hospice so he can get better pain meds. He said that they are coming this weekend to bring more, and he thinks they’re going to increase the frequency of the same medication. He wanted me to let everyone know so that they could pray.

Thursday July 17, 2025

Dad met with the radiologist today. It was a consultation on what they want to do. Dad agreed to do radiation on the mass on his spine, to prevent it from getting into, and affecting his spinal cord. As soon as he arrived home, the scheduler called and set an appointment for tomorrow, Friday the 18th.

Monday July 14, 2025

11:00am
The meeting with the oncologist also went as expected. “Dr. A” jumped in quickly with the following:

• I recommend that you see the radiation doctor to pinpoint radiation at the locations of cancer that have attached to your spine. (T4 and T5) The radiation doctor is close to your home. The “Community Care” person from the VA will call you, and give you the direct line to the doctor for appointments. Then you call to set up the first consultation.
• The reason I’m recommending radiation is to prevent the cancer from getting inside of your spine and pinching your spinal cord. If the cancer does that, it will be excruciating pain, and you won’t be able to sit up or walk. This is a pain prevention method. You’ll have a consultation first, and then, if you decide to go for it, it will likely be a series of radiation sessions (maybe up to 10). Dad agreed that he will likely go for it, but wants to talk to the new doctor first.

Toward the end of the conversation, I pressed the doctor for the actual diagnosis, which he did not do at the start. He said, “Oh, yeah, it’s stage 4 lung cancer. And it has spread outside of the lung and is affecting other areas of the body.” Then I asked, “So is that a new diagnosis?” “Oh no, it was stage 4 when we first found it last year. But he did not want to do any chemo treatments for it, due to his age, and desire to minimize pain.” Then I asked, “So how long does he have?” Dr. A replied, “After a stage 4 is diagnosis, we typically say that you have 6 months. But your dad has already surpassed that, so he’s doing quite well.”

Then the doctor said that he wanted to see him again after the radiation treatment, and told the scheduler to set something for September. Dad and Carmen will manage the remaining details, by calling radiation, etc.

NOTE: VA-funded-hospice is different than Medicare-supplied-hospice. VA-funded-hospice allows the patient to continue to receive treatments like radiation if desired. Medicare-supplied hospice does not allow continued treatments.

Sunday July 13, 2025

10:00am
The meeting with the hospice nurse (George Hair, RN) went as expected. He was kind and considerate and answered all of their questions. Here are the highlights:

• Pain medication. Hospice is now managing all of his pain medication. He is going to carefully monitor how dad is feeling and adjust the medication so that he is comfortable. When he asked dad how was feeling about the effectiveness of the oxycodone, dad said, “It’s okay.” So the nurse recommended upping the frequency from every 6 hours, to every 4 hours, and then he’ll see about trying a different kind of medicine later this week.
• DNR signed and posted. Hospice has posted dad’s “do not resuscitate” request on the fridge. (See image below)
• Special equipment ordered. Hospice has ordered a wheelchair, and new walker, and a shower seat to be delivered tomorrow. They are not getting a hospital bed at this time. But if they need anything, they just need to ask.
• Weekly nurse visit. George will be the nurse visiting dad on a weekly basis for now, and take vitals and monitor the medication.
• Weekly helper visit. The social worker will be calling to set up a weekly assistant for a shower, and other light house keeping needs.
• Chaplain call. A chaplain will call dad this week. Dad agreed to speak with the person once, but doesn’t need more than that.
• Social visit. Dad declined the service of having someone visit him on a weekly basis. “Nooo, I don’t need that,” he said.
• Consent for “psychoactive meds.” The nurse talked about the fact that pain can sometimes cause hallucinations, and in the event of that, they may need to prescribe medication that can help reduce hallucinations. It was “just in case.”
• In case of emergency. For any fall or any type of emergency, Carmen is to call Hospice first. Hospice will take care of the rest.

Friday July 11, 2025

8:00am
I arrived at his house to help him with access to the VA.gov account, so he could see the PET scan details. Katrina had set him up on the website a while ago, but he needed a little assistance logging in, and where to click to find the report to download. We found the report (thanks again to Katrina) and downloaded it. As I read the report to him, he started to get a little overwhelmed. It read like, “New location on the posterior and-a-blah-blah, measuring 1.2 x 2.0. And a new location on the hippo-andrata-blah measuring 1.5 x 1.5. And new location on the…” you get the idea. About 10 new ones. I looked at him, and he looked back and asked, “Can anyone tell me what this is in English?” I responded, “That is what the oncologist is going to tell you on Monday.” Then we got ready for another ride downtown.

10:00am
We arrived at the hospital and waited for our time with the palliative care person. As we sat there, there were other vets waiting. And as typical for most of the encounters with other vets, someone asked him, “When were you in?” “From 1948 to 1953” dad said. (Those are the rough dates of the Korean War.) Dad was wearing a baseball hat that said NAVY, so the other gentleman said, “I was also in the Navy, but from 1960 to 68. I joined so I didn’t get drafted.” (Those were the rough dates of the Vietnam war.) Then dad asked the man, “What ship were you on?” “DD-710 Destroyer. What ship were you on?” And dad replied without hesitation, “AD-31 Destroyer Tender.” They continued to chat a little while longer, and then the conversation slowed to a stop.

I need to pause here and say a giant “THANK YOU!!” to Katrina for getting him set-up with his VA access and health services. It has been a huge help, and they really do take great care of him.

After waiting a bit we went into the appointment with Donna (PA-C), the palliative care person. It was an hour and a half of kindness and respect. Dad felt honored, and Carmen was very appreciative. I’ll spare you all of the details, but give you the highlights:

• Keep taking your oxycodone for pain, but add back in Tylenol morning, noon, and night, and apply the cream they gave you from your ER visit at the same time you take your Tylenol.
• I recommend you take the suggested radiation treatment that your oncologist has ordered. This radiation is pinpointed at the exact location of where the cancer has gotten into the bone, and it is actually considered a method of pain relief and comfort, rather than pain-causing discomfort like other cancer treatments.
• I recommend you take hospice care. They will come to your home, and help you with your medication, and even prescribe stronger meds if you need it. They will provide more equipment as needed, like a wheel chair, or a hospital bed. A nurse will come and take your vitals 3 times a week or more, as needed. And it’s all covered by the VA. You won’t spend a dime. Think of it like “limousine treatment” until the Lord calls you home. Dad, Carmen and I all agreed that he should take the hospice care. She ordered it, and they should call him today or tomorrow to get the first meeting set, and start taking care of him.

Dad asked her pointedly, “How much time?” She used a metaphor of expiration date on a milk carton to explain that we just don’t know, and the oncologist will have a better explanation for him. Then he asked, “What is your best estimate?” She said “Months. It could be one, it could be several. But you should focus on the time you do have.” He looked at Carmen and gave a weak smile.

4:00pm
I spoke with George from Hospice, and we’ve schedule the initial meeting for Sunday at 10:00am.

Thursday July 10, 2025

9:30am
Arrived at the VA clinic to talk to the primary care doctor. Her goal for the session was to gently guide him in making decisions around his condition. She asked gently, “What is your goal with your current condition and illness?” “What?” he says. (Mostly because he didn’t have his hearing aid in.) Then she proceeds with, “You know that you’ve lived a wonderful 94 years, and do you want your final time to be comfortable and happy, or do you want to try to aggressively treat this cancer, which will be quite miserable, and painful. In fact treatment would make you a lot weaker than you already are, and make your bones brittle.” Then he said — I think because Carmen was sitting right next to him — “Well you know, I’d like to live to be 100. My grandmother lived to be 103.” Then the doctor said, “In your current situation you might want to reconsider that.” Then he asked, “Can you tell me the results of my PET scan?” She said, “Yes, I can pull up and read the results from the test, but I can not answer any questions about it. William, I just want you to now this is not good news.” “Huh?” he said. The doctor has an Indian accent, and those last words were hard for him to make sense of. Then I leaned forward and said loudly and slowly, “NOT GOOD NEWS.” “Oh,” he responded. She proceeded to tell him, as she was looking at the report, “Remember at first that the location of the cancer was in 3 spots; your pelvis, urinary tract, and lung? Now the cancer is in a lot of places.” She read off about 10 different places where the cancer has now shown up in his body. I didn’t even catch the exact places, but she did emphasize the “thoracic region” which is why he is now feeling pain in his back. Then she said, “The oncologist will let you know the specifics about that when you talk to him on Monday.”

Carmen breaks in to the conversation, “Well, it’s possible he could get better, right?” The doctor said, “At this point (she was careful not use the word stage) it is not likely he will get better, but you could try to slow it down with aggressive treatment.” Carmen said, “Oh, yes, okay.” Then the doctor directed some admonition to Carmen. “At this point you, the partner, need to do everything you can to baby him, and make him happy. Tell him sweet things. And do not raise your voice at him or fight with him. That would only raise his stress levels, and that is not good for the cancer. And let him sleep and make him comfortable.” Then Carmen says, “Well I tell him he shouldn’t sleep during the day, so that he can sleep better at night.” The doctor replied kindly, “No, no, no. You should let him sleep when he wants to.”

The doctor was really amazing, and I was in the back mouthing the words, THANK YOU!

(More details about this day to come, when I get a chance to write more. It’s the morning of July 11th, and I need to get ready to take him to the palliative care appointment. By the way, I stayed in a hotel last night, with the A/C at a lovely 71 degrees, and a very comfortable bed. It was very refreshing.)

12:30pm
We arrived at the VA Hospital to have his newly ordered MRI. Everything happened as expected. When he got out, we walked to the cafeteria in the hospital for some lunch. During the stroll to the cafeteria I asked him, “What was that like?” He said, “It was LOUD.” We had a small lunch. He ate some chopped Asian chicken and a few bites of rice. Then we took the long drive back to their house, and he took a short nap in the front seat. When we got home, I got him settled in his chair, and told him to call me if he needed anything.

Wednesday July 9, 2025

5:00am
Dad got up early, thinking about his appointment, and had a pain level 6, since he could not take any medication prior to his scan. He didn’t want to talk much, but after a while I asked, “what Bible verse is on your mind right now?” He immediately said in his bold narrator voice, “There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it. 1 Corinthians 10:13.” Of course he quoted in King James.

The PET scan went as expected. They injected him with a “radioactive tracer.” He laid still for close to an hour while it coursed through his veins. Then he went in the lay-down scanner for about 15 minutes.

Tomorrow morning is the next appointment. It’s with the primary care doctor, to discuss what is going on, and get a refill on his pain medication.

3:00pm update
Oncology called and wanted to rush another scan for tomorrow. They want an MRI. They ordered this because of the upcoming oncology appointment on Monday.

Tuesday July 8, 2025

Dad had an “okay” day today. We woke up around 5, and he had a few chores for me. (Filling the hummingbird feeders and checking the chlorine levels in the pool.) He had a small helping of scrambled eggs for breakfast, an hour nap, then sat in his chair. His mind was on preparing for tomorrow’s appointment. (The PET scan to check for cancer. 9:00am at the VA Hospital.) So I decided to get him groomed up and ready for the appointment — a haircut, shave, bath, and pedicure. It took a few hours to get all of that done. Then he went back to his chair, exhausted. He sipped on water, and had an Ensure. His pain level was a 4 most of the day, since he’s been taking his Oxycodone and Lidocaine patch on exact time intervals — thank you naval training. (See pain level descriptions below) Every time I asked “how you feeling?” he would say wincing, “okay.” That’s why I’m calling it an “okay day.”

Monday July 7 2025

3:00 pm
I arrived at dad’s house. He was sitting in his chair. He said that he felt very weak. He leaned forward in a strained manner to give me a hug. Then he said, “I’m ready to go.” “Where?” I asked. “To see Jesus. What did you think?” We both smiled. He’s not eating much. He is sipping water, and had an Ensure. And I gave him his “Oxycodone 5mg” pill at his 6 hour interval. We chatted. I put on some old church hymns. And then he requested the Bill Gaither Band. He’s still sharp as ever. But slurring his words (because he didn’t want to put his dental partial in) and saying “huh?” a lot (because he didn’t want to put in his hearing aid.)

7:30pm
Dad got hungry for a bowl of spaghetti and ate it all.

Saturday July 5 2025

9:30 am
I talked to dad. He had a good night’s sleep and is feeling much better. He drank a full bottle of Ensure this morning. I learned that the patch he was given was “Lidocaine Patch” which is a local anesthetic applied to the area where the pain is.

Friday July 4 2025

8:30 am
I talked to Carmen. She was at the hospital. She handed the phone to dad. He told me, “the CT scan revealed a mass on my right lung, not my left where the pain was.” The left side is where the first cancer was discovered. He also said, “They can’t tell me more until I get the PET scan on Wednesday.” He was given a pain pill of “hydrocodone.” He said that it helped relieve the pain. I will be with him on Wednesday for the PET scan appointment.

2:00pm
Carmen called to say they arrived safely at home. Dad was discharged and given a “patch” of pain reliving medicine. (Not sure what kind yet.) And Carmen is to get Ensure for him to drink, since he isn’t eating much.

Thursday July 3 2025

7:30 am
Dad called me to explain something that happened the night before (Wednesday evening). He was sitting in his chair getting ready to watch a movie, and suddenly felt this excruciating pain in his chest. “Pain level 10+” He likened it to the painful pressure I would get in my ears when going up an elevation, then finally the pain would burst or pop, and pressure relief would come. He said the episode lasted a couple of minutes, and then he felt like something “burst in his chest.” The ordeal drained all of his energy, so he went to bed.

A couple months before, he had a similar pain in his abdomen, and went to the ER, and they determined it was constipation, and prescribed a laxative. So I recommended lots of water, and to continue with taking medication for the pain. I suggested we monitor the situation throughout the day. During the time of our call he said his pain level was about a 7.

9:30 am
I called to check in and his pain level was down to 6.5. He was drinking water, and was able to eat a small bowl of cereal.

4:30 pm
Carmen called me and said that dad wanted to see a doctor because the pain was really bad again. (I didn’t get exactly what pain) I suggested the ER, since the doctor’s office is not set-up for emergencies. I asked dad if he wanted to call 911, and he said “Absolutely not. Last time they charged me $6,000 for a trip to the ER.” So Carmen drove him to the ER.

7:30 pm
Carmen called saying she arrived safely back home, and reported that they admitted dad overnight. She also reported that they were taking good care of him and wanted to do a CAT scan to determine the source of the pain.

Friday June 27, 2025

4:30 pm
Katrina (who is on dad’s medical power of attorney) received a call to schedule a “palliative care” appointment. The oncologist ordered the care, and the appointment is set for July 11th. This is good news, since it will likely include in-home check-ups and treatment. I have moved my visit to coincide with that appointment. I will be visiting July 8 – 11.

Tuesday June 24, 2025

7:30 am
I spoke with him this morning. He said the ER did intricate tests, and found that the symptoms he was feeling was mostly related to his cancer. Things like “increased sensitivity around the bone where his cancer is” and “extra fluid around the heart.” The next step is for him to speak with his primary care team today, to get him in to see his oncologist right away. (The ER doctor said they would communicate the urgency to his primary care team.) I will speak with him later today to get the status of his next appointment.

Monday June 23, 2025

4:00 pm
He had a phone conversation with a nurse from the VA hospital this afternoon, and after talking with her for a while, she recommended that he go to emergency room at the VA hospital. Carmen is driving him there now. I’m sure they want to do tests. I called and he sounded okay. I’ll check in with him around 5:30-6:00 to see what was discussed.

7:30 pm
I just got off the phone with dad and Carmen. He’s still in the exam room, waiting for the doctor to explain the results of the tests that they took. They didn’t mention anything about staying overnight. So they’re just waiting and I said I would call in the morning.

Friday June 20, 2025

He called me on Friday feeling very week and said, “Carmen can’t take care of me, and I can’t take care of her anymore, and I’m not sure I can take care of myself.” We talked for a long time, and he wanted some options of what to do next. For now, the least disruptive option is to have him stay in the house, and I try to find some in-home care. I’m going to see him on Sunday June 29th, and will stay for a few days to assess the situation, and attempt to get his affairs in order. He said he’s been loosing weight and is down to 117 lbs. I have power of attorney for him, and I’m going to try take over his finances and try to see if we can get to the oncologist to see if the cancer is back. Thanks for your prayers, and I will keep you updated on the progress.

Pain Level Descriptions

1–3: Mild Pain (Nagging, Annoying)

• 1: Barely noticeable — “I know it’s there if I think about it.”
• 2: Comes and goes — “It’s a nuisance, but I can ignore it.”
• 3: Noticeable — “It’s annoying, but not stopping me from doing anything.”

4–6: Moderate Pain (Distracting, Manageable)

• 4: Distracting — “It slows me down, but I can still work/talk.”
• 5: Can’t ignore it — “I’m pushing through, but I’m uncomfortable.”
• 6: Hard to concentrate — “I have to stop and deal with this sometimes.”

7–9: Severe Pain (Unmanageable, Limiting)

• 7: Dominates attention — “I can’t focus on anything else.”
• 8: Intense — “It’s overwhelming. I might cry or groan.”
• 9: Excruciating — “I can’t talk, move, or think straight.”

10: Worst Imaginable Pain

• 10: “Take me to the hospital now.” Often described as unbearable, like childbirth, major trauma, or kidney stones.