Treasuring every Moment

The alarm clock jolted us awake last Monday, November 29th, at 4:45am.  We had made the trip up to Grandma and Grandpa Keefer's the night before, in Halifax, PA, to go hunting on opening day.  Pop had been feeling well enough to make the trip, and he was excited for getting out into the woods.  As we made our way into the kitchen to start preparing breakfast, a faint snore could be heard from the living room couch.  We poked our heads in, and slowly crept over to where Pop was sleeping.  He heard the floor squeak as we neared, and opened his eyes. "Hunting time already?" he whispered with a grin on his face.  We talked for a minute, and Pop decided that he'd come outside at sunrise with Mom helping him.  So, sure enough, as the sun rose over the far mountains, Pop slowly made his way out to his spot on the side of a hill.  Mom sat with him, and they had opportunity to simply be in each other's company with no distractions.  They sat there for several hours until it was nearing lunchtime.  With a warm house calling, the two of them made their way back inside for some lunch.  As the sun continued to bring it's warmth throughout the day, Pop decided that he'd like to go back out for the last several hours of the day.  Megan, who had come up for the adventure along with Emma (our evening entertainment), decided she'd like to take Pop out and sit with him in the afternoon.  They picked a new spot to park themselves for the remainder of the day, and waited patiently for the deer to move through their area.  As the light began to fade on opening day, we all met-up where Pop and Meg were sitting.  We recounted the various deer we saw throughout the day, and laughed about some people's legs going numb from sitting so long.  In the waning light of evening, as we stood there talking and laughing, four deer appeared on the far horizon.  Silhouetted against the amber sky it was a beautiful picture, and a great ending to the day.
On Thursday and Saturday of last week, we had the opportunity to get Pop out into the woods again for a few hours.  Although we didn't bag anything, we had a great time slowing down a bit and spending some fun time together.  They are memories that we will all carry with us.
Part of why the time was so valuable, was the fact that Thursday morning, and most of the day on Friday, were spent in testing for Pop.  He received another full body PET scan, as well as CAT scans.  He always jokes that these are his favorite tests since he gets lectured for not laying still enough.  "I can't lay without moving for that long.  I mean, I almost start twitching," he laughs.  The results were sent off to the oncologist, and a meeting was schedule for yesterday morning.
In the cold morning air, Pop zipped his jacket up tight against his neck, as he slowly made his way out of the car and into the Cancer Center.  He was leaning hard on Joel, and was visibly uncomfortable.  We checked in with the receptionists, and they sent us back to have his blood work started.  Pop sat down in one of chairs in the blood work room, and let out a sigh.  He closed his eyes, and tightened his lips.  "You okay Pop," I asked as I leaned down.  He slowly shook his head, "Just give me a second."  That morning he had woken up at 3:30am with a sharp pain in several areas of his body.  After Mom gave him a few of the pain medications that he has been prescribed, the pain dulled but wouldn't subside.  Just then Emma came into the room tucked in Joel's arms.  Emma outstretched her arm and pointed at Pop.  "Pop-pop," she yelled and got a big smile on her face.  Opening his eyes, Pop got a grin on his face and whispered, "Well, good morning beautiful."  After they ran his blood work and gave him his card, we were shown to our room where we'd meet with the doctor.  Emma was in rare form, and easily kept us distracted as she ran around the room and refused to sit on any one's lap.  We laughed as she pushed the doctor's rolling chair around the room.  When the doctor entered the room, suddenly she was ready to sit on Mommy's lap.  The doctor hugged each person in the room as he always does, and took a seat.  "So, how are you feeling Ken?" he asked.  Pop responded with his typical, canned answer, "About the same I guess.  I probably have a little less energy than before, but, you know, that's probably normal."  We looked around at each other, and just smiled.  Mom, right on que, spoke up.  "A lot has changed since we last saw you," she started off, "he has been experiencing a lot more pain, and his walking is very difficult.  His energy is down considerably, and there has just been a number of changes in the last 2-3 weeks."  She tried to be strong, but the frog in her throat grew as she talked.  "I guess are just wondering what is going on," she said as her eyes filled with tears.  The doctor sighed, and turned around to open Pop's file.  You could hear a pin drop, as we collectively held our breath.  Finally the doctor spoke, "Well, the cancer has progressed, and...well, the progression is significant.  There are several additional tumors growing in your brain Ken, which would explain the difficulty in walking and numbness in the legs.  Also, your liver is enveloped in lesions, and it is in the lymph nodes all around the area, including spots on your diaphragm."  He took a breath, then paused and looked straight at Pop, "I'm sorry Ken.  I'm so sorry."  Pop stoically sat in his chair and nodded, "Hey, you don't need to apologize. We tried.  We did our best, and that's all we can do."  Misty eyed, the doctor shook his head, "I'm still sorry.  I wish I had different news."  He proceeded to talk about the various options moving forward, but he sounded like a far off voice.  We each sat somewhat stuck in the moment.  Reality is a strange visitor that I'm not sure that we can ever fully prepare ourselves for.  We had talked so many times about the progression of Pop's symptoms, and the expectations of what this visit could bring; yet, hearing the doctor confirm our suspicions still came as somewhat of a shock in the moment.  Mom finally spoke up when the doctor paused.  Looking down at Pop she began, "We have talked about this as a family, and we'd really like for whatever time we have left..."  Hearing the words come out of her own mouth, she paused and began to cry.  Pop patted her knee, and continued, "We'd like to contact Hospice so that they can be involved at home."  A few details were talked about, and Hospice was called.  No more treatments were scheduled. No more tests were put on the calendar.  We simply hugged the doctor said that we'd be in touch.
Back at home, Pop was finally getting sleepy and his pain was under control.  We took him in and laid him on the couch.  Mom knelt beside him to pull the blankets high around his neck.  She kissed him on the forehead and whispered in his ear, "This is quite the journey, huh honey?"  Closing his eyes, he rested his head on the pillow and sighed, "I believe it's the last leg of the journey."  A tear slipped from the corner of his eye and slid down his red cheek, disappearing into the pillow.