In Memory of Tracy Allen
My dad, Tracy Allen, was diagnosed with a primary stage IV glioblastoma on October 10, 2015. It was invading the left parietal side of his brain and his motor function of his right side was affected with occasional numbness. He could not see out of his right eye nor could he write words and sometimes his speech was incomprehensible. On October 8, 2015, tumor removal was a success; most of the tumor was removed and it was sent to pathology. After my dad's diagnosis, he agreed to 6 weeks of oral chemo/radiation. At week 4, my dad declined mentally and physically so my dad, my sister, and myself decided it would be better if he stopped treatment. His oncologist gave him weeks to months to live. We had a good Thanksgiving and Christmas, thankfully, but we could tell that dad was declining and sleeping most of the days. The morning of January 12th, 2016, my sister called me and said that dad had fallen in the floor off the couch (up to this point, he was still shuffling/walking and going to the restroom on his own) and had defecated all over himself and the floor. Ambulance drivers had to be called to get him out of the floor; his hospice nurse arrived a couple hours later. We were told about skin mottling and the body shutting down. My dad never came to after that. He was ambulanced to Hospice of Chattanooga where he remained unresponsive. I left that evening around 7 pm. The hospice nurse called at 5 am on the 13th and stated that dad's body had turned purple and he was screaming that he was ready to go. At 530 am, he passed away. I wouldn't wish a glioblastoma on my worst enemy. My dad was always a very strong willed, independent, stubborn man and this demon destroyed him and about broke my family. My sister and I have never dealt with loss until now and it has been very difficult. It still seems unreal; I feel like I will come home one day and he will be there sitting and he will ask me what took so long and can he have a beer. I wish I could hug him one more time.