A thing happened today. I almost lost my s***. With a parent. One of my parents and not some random parent.

One of my parents has cancer. Which sucks. Of course it does. We're hoping the treatments have helped but it's too early to tell.

He is losing a lot of weight. A lot. The doctors are worried. The nurses are worried. The dieticians are worries. I'm worried. He is worried. We're all worried. ... But he is not worried enough. He is not worried enough to accept tube feeding. The pain is preventing eating and drinking. But losing this amount of weight is apparently better than accepting tube feeding for a week. One week. ... And there is nothing anyone can do about it.

I'm not saying that he should be force fed. He is a grown man. It IS his choice. And I can respect that. Mostly. I do find it difficult sometimes, and this is one of those times. I get to see him wither away – not because of the cancer but because of the side effects of the treatments. Or, to be more precise, because of his pride and fear AND side effects. And I hate that. I don't want to look away to shield myself from his pain. That is my choice. It is, in a weird way, a privilege to be allowed to take part in this part of his life. He doesn't owe me to accept tube feeding. I don't want to be angry or impatient with him. It's not my place to scold him, and I don't have the right to decide anything on his behalf. I want to be present. I want to do all the things I already do, and not take my frustration out on him. To be fair – I'm not the one with cancer ... or the one in pain or fear.

Having two ill parents, I've gotten used to seing them scared and angry. I've seen them cry and shout, and I've been yelled at and blaimed and scolded, and hugged and thanked and kissed, and I am mostly fine with all of it. I have cared for them physically and psychologically and I still do ... but this is one of those times where I just have to accept that it is out of my hands. Where the only thing I can do is to find a way to accept it. I find it very difficult this time because this weightloss problem could be temporarily solved with tube feeding for a short period of time. Medically speaking, this is a small thing compared to chemo and radiation and surgery ect. But to him, it's the worst one. And I'm at a loss when it comes to understanding this. I would ask him, but aside from currently not being able to speak much, he isn't a man who can express such things. Or wants to. He has made it very clear that he doesn't want tube feeding no matter the consequences. He also doesn't want help with transportation which also sucks. He is sufficiently underfed for me to worry about wether it is safe (enough) to let him transport himself to and from the hospital. He could get hurt but he could also hurt someone else ... I don't even know who to ask about this ... But I think I know where to ask, and that counts, I guess.

I've asked him to consider when enough is enough when it comes to the weight loss. I don't think he has thought about it. I think that maybe his fear (and hate and disgust ect.) of the tube has blurred the lines of common sense for him (and maybe also for me). It would make sense. It also makes sense that he doesn't want to be “that ill” or want to accept needing the treatment. I get that I don't understand what it's like to have cancer. I don't understand the depth. I get that it's scary to accept a tube. But that scary? I haven't asked him what he thinks about it. Just to think about it. I guess I have to think about it too ...

I almost lost my s*** with a parent today. One of my parents and not some random parent. Because he isn't doing what I think he should do. And I should know better. I understand that I don't understand. It's my “job” as a relative to make room when he needs it. To accept that I don't understand what is going on and to NOT act like I know better. Even when I think I do. That his body is his and that he is the master of it. That he is the one going through all of this and that I am a bystander. I want to accept that the tube may be a symbol or a turning point for the worse (in his mind) and most impotantly, I want to accept that it's not up to me. Not just understand it but accept it. I think he deserves that ...