The world keeps turning

Edit: After re-reading this post, I realized there was a glaring omission. I need to recognize my step-mother Kathi for everything she did over the last few months. While my sister, step-brother, and I did make frequent visits out to Seattle to help, it was really Kathi that did all the heavy lifting. She was loving wife, chief medical care provider, manager of doctors, cook, shopper, and breadwinner. She kept it all together, even after her own diagnosis. I will never forget what she did for my dad. If I ever had a question about what true love looks like, she answered it. There will always be a place for her at our table.

 Dad and Kathi in happier times - photo of a photo, sorry about the glare

Let's start with the bad news. My father passed away from liver cancer on April 13th, 2013, aged 65 years. He was diagnosed with terminal stage IV liver cancer in the middle of September, 2012. At the time, my dad was living off a Forest Service road in Northwestern Montana. He and my step-mother had bought 5 acres on the Yaak river a few years earlier and built their dream cabin from logs they harvested off their own lot. My step-mother was working as a Compliance Director for a chain of nursing homes in the Northwest and traveled weekly doing inspections and supervising remedial actions at problem facilities. My dad would pick her up at the airport in Spokane on Friday evenings and take her back on Monday mornings. He spent a lot of time alone at the cabin during the week working on gathering firewood or making improvements to the property. We used to worry about him having a heart attack or encountering dangerous wildlife up there all by himself, but as is usually the case, it's not the stuff you worry about that ends up getting you.

 Dad's cabin on the Yaak

 Splitting logs with Grandpa

Three generations of Willis boys - August 2012

Shortly after his diagnosis, my sister and I flew up to Montana to help close up the cabin and move my dad and step-mother down to Seattle, where he could get better medical care. I had just been out to Montana with my family for a visit in August, and it was shocking for me to see the difference in my dad in just a few short weeks. In August, he was the picture of health, out by the shed splitting a half cord of wood with my sons to teach them the proper technique (and pass some time without electronic entertainment). By mid-September, he looked like a very sick man. We spent some time packing up the cabin and going through boxes of family photos, everybody trying not to burst into tears. It was a very sad time. When we finally left for Seattle, Dad knew he would never be back to the cabin again.

 Finished pieces in my dad's glass workshop

 Left unfinished as we packed up for Seattle

This is how fast it all happened - tools where he left them

Sorting through the stuff prior to leaving for Seattle

My step-mother was able to find a condo to rent near her company's corporate headquarters. Her company was fantastic during the whole thing and gave her all the time and support she needed to help get my dad through. My dad started treatment at the Fred Hutchinson Center in Seattle. The doctors there are world class. They were able to put together a program of chemotherapy that gave him a few relatively good months that he would not otherwise have had. From that point on, I rotated with my sister and step-brothers so that somebody was out in Seattle pretty much all the time. The first few months were actually pretty good. The treatments he was receiving gave Dad the energy to get things in order the way he wanted. He looked much healthier than he had when I first saw him in September. There were a series of minor scares from illnesses he caught due to his suppressed immune system, but he always seemed to rebound. Eventually though, as the doctors had warned us, the chemo began to be as harmful as the cancer. At that point, Dad suspended his treatments and got in touch with the hospice people.

 Dad at the condo in Issaquah

This final phase was mercifully short. Once the chemo stopped, the cancer took over relatively quickly. I had talked with Dad about cancelling my family's Spring Break plans and coming out to see him again ahead of schedule, but he wouldn't hear it. Instead, he called my sister and asked her to come out, and then called me and said to go on with the vacation because there was no room for me at the condo now that my sister would be there. He thought he was pretty slick. He said not to worry, he felt fine and a week wouldn't make a difference. In reality, he was fading fast. We went on with our family plans to visit my wife's parents in Florida. Toward the end of the week, my sister called and said I needed to get out to Seattle asap. We cut the trip short and drove straight through back to Virginia. My wife made my flight reservations on her phone as we drove North. I got home early Saturday morning and flew out for Seattle on Sunday morning. I passed my sister in the SeaTac airport as she was heading back to Cleveland. She was very upset and said that dad was in bad shape. I tried to prepare myself mentally during the short drive from the airport to the condo. As my sister had warned, Dad was pretty much gone. He slept most of the time. He did have a short period of lucidity on the second day I was there. He woke up and recognized me. We talked for a little while as if this was just one of the normal visits I had made over the past few months. Mostly though, he slept. I had to leave on Thursday the 11th. My youngest son was competing in the Destination Imagination Virginia state tournament, and I needed to get back in time to drive everybody out to Crozet on Friday. Dad was sleeping peacefully when I said my final goodbye to him. My step-brother Ben arrived shortly after I left on Thursday to be there with my dad and step-mom. It was Ben that called me Saturday evening to let me know that Dad had passed away.

If you weren't lucky enough to have known my dad, you missed out. He had a fantastic sense of humor that stayed with him right up to the end. He was quick to make friends and slow to anger. He loved all of us kids unconditionally. He only gave advice if you asked for it, but was always ready to help if you needed it. I can't ever remember him saying "I told you so.", even though he had cause to on many occasions. He was an example of how to live life, and he showed us all how to face death with dignity and courage. I miss him every day.

Now for the good news, or at least the somewhat less bad news. Almost unbelievably, right in the middle of my dad's cancer fight, my step-mother was diagnosed with Stage IV colon cancer. Fortunately, her cancer is much more treatable than my dad's was. She is being treated by the same all-star team at the Hutchinson Center that helped my dad. Her tumor has responded extremely well to the chemo. Her last session should be coming up soon. The plan is to surgically remove the shrunken tumor towards the end of summer. After that, she will undergo a few rounds of radiation therapy to make sure the cancer is completely gone. Its a very grueling road ahead, but her prognosis is very good. This family is due for a little good luck

If you are looking to make a charitable donation, the Fred Hutchinson Center is a very worthy candidate. They help a lot of people.