November 16, 2000
 In Memoriam - Tony Douglass 1939-2000
Some of you may know, though many of you wouldn't, that my father passed away recently after a 2-year battle with Multiple Myeloma (bone marrow cancer). He was only 61 at the time and we lost him much sooner than we were expecting to.
Multiple Myeloma is a complicated form of cancer that has no known cause and no cure. Sometimes bone marrow transplants are possible but they are also an incredibly severe procedure and unless you're really healthy otherwise, often you won't live through the transplant itself. The doctors decided that Dad wasn't physically strong enough to take the procedure and instead attacked the cancer with Chemotherapy drugs and radiation. Unfortunately, they were not enough, and probably too late to prevent the damage done to his kidneys as a complication of the disease. For a year and a half he dealt with 4 hour long dialysis treatments 3 times a week to keep himself from being completely poisoned. Eventually his body couldn't tolerate the stress anymore and his heart gave out peacefully in the early morning of October 29, 2000.
The days before his death he was pretty composed about the whole thing. He didn't talk to me about it but he and Mum talked to get ready for the inevitable. We knew a week before he died that he wasn't going to last much longer and tried to get ourselves prepared for the inevitable. Many people criticized me for losing hope when I mentioned that my father was in the last stages of his cancer but I am too practical to kid myself that a miracle was going to swoop in and save him at the last minute. He was very sick and he was dying and we had to accept it. It's strange but the physical loss was not nearly as hard as the two years preceeeding it that we lost him bit by bit every day. The old, sick man in the hospital bed was not the jolly, portly, beer-drinking Dad that I had for a good, happy childhood and the years as I branched into adulthood. I lost that man two years ago with the diagnosis and subsequent sickness and I have been mourning ever since.
I haven't written anything about his struggle on the site before now because I just wasn't really comfortable sharing it with everyone. I knew he wouldn't appreciate an internet wide pity party so I kept things to myself. I feel more comfortable sharing things now since I'm talking about my experience more than his.
It is amazing that it is not the big loss that is so hard but the little things that make it so painful, like the fact that I will never again hear him call me PB (short for Possum Bub), a goofy nickname for sure but a comforting staple in my life. I am very lucky that I had a chance to say goodbye and make sure that the last thing he heard from me was that I loved him. A gentle kiss on the forehead before I left for the night... at 2 AM I got the call to head to the hospital but by the time my mum, brother, Theovis and I got there, he was already gone.
I wrote the following in his honour and shared it as a (pre-recorded) eulogy at his memorial service. It cannot even remotely convey how much I admired and loved my Da but it is my attempt to share some of my feelings and let others have a glimpse into my life with him.
My dad taught me to love learning.
He was a teacher by trade but never stopped being a student himself. He was always eager to learn more about the world, history, science, language, etcetera, and he passed on that love on information to me. He taught me never to let school get in the way of my education, a lesson I embraced during late-night homework sessions following a rehearsal for a school play or some artistic pursuit.
When I left University to get a diploma in a trade school, I think he was disappointed. But the more he learned about today's job market, the more he supported my decision. When I graduated and began my massage therapy practice, he was as proud as could be. I did promise at one point to return and finish my degree when I can and I will do this in his honor.
Dad never led me to believe that there were limits to what I could achieve. I set my goals high as I grew up believing anything was possible. Reality was a bit of a let down a few times but I'm so thankful he gave me those years to dream as high as I wanted.
Some of my most vivid special memories of my dad involved quiet time together - like sitting drinking coffee together in the early morning. Occasionally it was as I was coming home to bed at the same time he was on his way to work, but I was a night owl and he was an early riser. There was some mild parental disapproval, but chatting and laughing together quickly eased that tension.
His acceptance of even my less than ideal choices taught me that he trusted me to make my own decisions and trust my judgement. Like anyone, I made some bad choices but I learned from them and went on to make better ones. The freedom to make mistakes taught me some invaluable lessons and I thank him for that gift.
I can't possibly sum up everything he gave me in our 27 years together and I'm not even trying. I'm just so thankful for the years we had together and the caring relationship we always shared despite any minor disagreements we had. Friction in our lives always came about because we are so similar and I'm very proud to carry those parts of him as a part of me.
although I'll miss you terribly, Da, I'll take all that you taught me to help me be strong now and in the years ahead. You don't have to worry that you left your job unfinished because you equipped me well to take on anything that comes my way.
Thank you, Da. I love you.
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