I've known for a while how bad off my granpa is but it still is painful to hear the experts at the Cross Cancer Institute tell him there's no hope and that he has weeks, if a month, to live.
When I heard the news, I was eerily calm. I asked questions, tried to keep my granpa from being upset, and generally kept it together.
I even explained things to Big Daddy, repeated what the doctor said, and was fine.
There were no tears, just a calm rationalization that this was to be expected.
But now, I'm sitting here, trying to keep myself from hyperventalating and breaking down.
Cancer. Fucking. Sucks.
The doctor said his official diagnosis was that the primary source is unknown and that they could treat it with an aggressive IV Chemotherapy but that he is too frail and weak to take the treatment.
"Ultimately," the doctor said, "(having the treatment) could be the end of you."
My granpa, however, took that to mean there was hope.
"Well," he said, "let's do it."
The doctor looked at me and said, "No. I've treated 70-year-olds who have been able to walk in here on their own and you, well..." he didn't have to finish. My granpa is 6'2" and weighs 130lbs. He can barely wheel himself in his wheelchair let alone walk on his own.
He said the best they could do was make him comfortable.
Hearing you're going to die sooner than later is always a kick in the nuts.
When the doctor excused himself, wishing my granpa the best, I stood there not really knowing what to say.
So, I said nothing. And then we I talked to the doctor and he was really straightforward, telling me he thought my grandfather would be lucky to make it to 2 months, and that I should enjoy every moment with him.
And yet, I didn't flinch. Because I knew this was coming.
My granpa, however, was agitated and anxious to get out of there, the same way he was when he discharged himself from the hospital a few weeks ago.
Now, I am only trying to cope. I have always looked to writing as the ultimate therapy, so humour me if I tend to blog a LOT over the course of the next few weeks. I'm not looking for sympathy, I swear, I am using this as an outlet. I find it much more calming than any yoga or kickboxing class could ever be.
It's funny. I started this blog a blubbering mess yet I am finishing it feeling like it's going to be OK.
A couple of weeks... yah. Guess I better make sure that damn prozac prescrip is filled!!
Either that or my wine cabinet better damn well be stocked!
xoxo
t.
Seriously....embrace the CCI. they have such amazing programs, not just for the patients, but for their families.
ReplyDeleteI was blown away by their programs when my dad got his prognosis, and he went straight from the tests to palliative care, meaning I barely got to finish reading the brochure. What better advocate for people who need their services, than a woman who has inspired, and empowered more woman than you?