James's Weblog

My dad passed away yesterday morning. He was 58 years old.

Almost exactly one month ago, coincidentally when I had surgery for my broken fibula, my dad felt unusually weak and checked himself in to Washington Hospital in Fremont. After spending a week there and another week at Stanford Hospital, doctors diagnosed him with advanced liver cancer.

They speculated that the tumor in his liver had been developing for two years, and whatever symptoms he had went by unnoticed or were misattributed to stress, to overwork, or to simply getting older. This past year was particularly rough for him; his father’s brother passed away from brain cancer early in the year, his own father died in July, and his mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.

The doctors said my dad’s cancer was untreatable and sent him home, where he wanted to be. He spent the past two weeks in his bed, too weak to stand on his own. All of my uncles and aunts flew in from the east coast to help take care of him as he grew progressively weaker with each passing day. He spent the past several days drifting in and out of consciousness. On Thursday evening, he went into a deep sleep, and when I when I awoke Friday morning, his breathing had become rapid and shallow. I left his room for several minutes, and by the time I returned, his breathing had stopped.

It all happened in such a short amount of time, and it all feels very surreal.

I miss him a lot.