Paul Allen Harris
by Julie

My father, Paul, age 59, was a gentle and wonderful father. The joy of his life was spending time with his “girls”, three daughters and three granddaughters. He was a Vietnam Veteran, and had recently retired from his career of 23 years with a major oil company. My father began smoking in his teens, and was a heavy smoker all his life. He was diagnosed with COPD in 2001, and was told to quit smoking, which he was unable to do. His overall health was pretty good and only needed to use an inhaler for breathing occasionally.

Late 2002 -Early 2003, my mother was complaining about how forgetful Dad seemed to be getting. We worried a little about his health, but nothing really stood out, and made us suspect anything specific. On Sunday, January 19, 2003, Mom called and said she was worried about Dad. He was kind of confused and having trouble with speech. It was not slurred speech, but like he knew what he wanted to say, but couldn’t choose the correct words. We talked about a possible mild stroke, but he didn’t seem too bad.

On Monday morning they went to the doctor. Dad was very confused. The doctor asked simple questions and he didn’t know the answer to most - such as his phone number or birthday. The doctor requested a MRI on his brain, but didn’t give any indication of what he suspected.

The next day they called him back in for a chest x-ray and told us that he had lung cancer, which had spread, to his brain. (Stage IV non small cell adenocarcinoma) There was a large tumor on the lower lobe of the right lung and multiple brain tumors. We were told that the cancer was terminal and that he had about six months to live, possibly longer with chemotherapy and radiation treatments. That day we were in shock, cried a lot, and called some of our family with the news. Amazing that the cancer could have spread so far with very little symptoms. Later that week, Dad was hospitalized for a needle biopsy on his lung, and he began 10 days of radiation treatments on his brain. My parents celebrated their 39th wedding anniversary while he was in the hospital. It would be their last.

After the diagnosis I immediately went to the internet, searching for information about lung cancer, prognosis and treatment information. Much of the information I found was about cancer survivors, but couldn’t find a lot of information about dealing with terminal cases. There was very little about lung cancer after it has metastasized to other organs. I really wanted to know what to expect in the short and long term, the good and the bad. I was especially interested in reading stories about families who had similar experiences to what we would be going through. This is the reason that I have shared my Dad’s story, in the hopes that other families might gain some insight into the roller coaster ride of cancer.

The radiation treatments on Dad’s brain tumors helped with the confusion and speech problems within days. By the time the 10 days were over Dad’s hair had fallen out, but he had regained his normal personality and was able to make his own decisions about his treatments and understood his prognosis. During the first month, Dad was energetic and talkative. He felt a need to tell people he loved them and we had a lot of important conversations. Dad was a very strong Christian, and wanted to reassure everyone that he was comfortable with his death and spoke of going to heaven. I think he wanted to make sure he had an opportunity to say what he needed before his mind became clouded again from the brain tumors. He decided he wanted to try the chemotherapy even though the doctors told him it would not be a cure, only prolong his life, maybe.

He began the chemotherapy treatments on February 25, 2003. It was a combination of taxol/carbo. The treatment lasted 6 hours, and then he would go home. They would be once every three weeks. After the first treatment he was not sick at all and was eating well. After the second treatment he was feeling pretty weak. He felt a little nauseous, but never vomited, and the medications for nausea seemed to help. After two treatments the MRI and chest scans were done again to determine if the chemo was helping.

During February and March, he seemed to be doing so well. We felt optimistic that the chemotherapy and radiation were working, and he might be around a while longer.

The test results on April 9, 2003 were not what we had hoped for. The lung tumor had shrunk a little, but three tumors were discovered on his liver. The brain tumors remained the same size, but the swelling in his brain had been reduced. The doctor offered to try a different kind of chemotherapy, which might help the liver, but the chances were only around a 15% success rate. Dad decided to seek no further treatments for his cancer and the entire family supported his decision. He was becoming weaker and tired, with coughing and shortness of breath. He just didn’t want to go through anymore.

We were also starting to notice that the confusion was beginning to return. He was communicating less and becoming withdrawn. Loud noises and too many people around were irritating him, and he had occasional angry outbursts over minor things. He was eating less and sleeping more. He was also constantly feeling cold.

Within a couple of weeks after the discovery of the liver tumors, he began to experience digestive problems and abdominal pain. He was not able to eat much and began losing weight. According to the doctor his digestive system was starting to shut down. It seemed like he was going downhill very rapidly. My parents had at first resisted the idea of hospice care, but now agreed that it was needed. For a while my mother seemed to be in some denial about how bad Dad really was, but as he began to get worse, she started accepting that the end was nearing.

Dad’s pain increased tremendously in late April and early May. At first he was given Lortab to be taken every four hours as needed for pain. When that didn’t help, he was given the Morphine patches. One patch was good for 72 hours and he could still take the Lortab for breakthrough pain. He continued to lose weight and eat very little. His abdomen became bloated and took on the look of an African famine victim. He couldn’t stand the touch of his clothing around his waist. His feet were swollen, and his blood pressure was constantly up and down. He couldn’t walk across the room without becoming out of breath and tired.

On May 13 he was hospitalized because the pain became uncontrollable. He was put on a spinal infusion of morphine, which helped. That weekend the doctor told us to gather all family that wanted to see him. I knew we were losing him, but I was shocked how quickly. That weekend he became incontinent, very confused, and agitated. He kept pulling at his tubes and trying to get up out of bed. We took shifts; staying up with him day and night. Mom was terrified of him dying alone.

On Monday, May 19, we moved him to a Hospice inpatient facility. We could have taken him home, but my mother has health problems also and we just didn’t feel like we could take care of him by ourselves. The Hospice Home was wonderful. It was homey, and the staff was very loving and caring. I wouldn’t have changed anything about our experience there.

For several days Dad slept mostly. Occasionally he would open his eyes and look at us. When we spoke to him, he would smile, but rarely said a word. He definitely recognized us and could hear what we were saying. On Thursday morning, Dad woke up and sat up in bed, and spoke to us for several minutes. Later that day he fell into a deep sleep and his breathing became very shallow. The hospice nurse told us that he believed death would occur during the next 24 hours.

At 5:05 am May 23, 2003, Dad took his last breath. It was peaceful, and quiet. We cried for a few minutes and then went to get a nurse. His battle was over; four months and three days after we found out about the cancer.

As I look back on the last few months, it seems like yesterday that we learned he had cancer. Until the last two weeks, Dad was getting up, dressing himself, making coffee, and doing things around the house. I don’t believe the chemotherapy helped, but I think it was worth a try. If I could do anything over again, it would be to get hospice sooner. We only used them for about four weeks. Overall Dad was courageous, and maintained his strong faith. I always thought my Dad was wonderful, but after seeing how he handled the last few months, I will always remember him as a super hero.