Sometimes,
being known as someone with marginal writing talent, sucks boatloads. I had a feeling that it would come to this, but honestly, I didn't want to face the impending reality.Mom asked me today if I would write something for the funeral.
Ugh.
Thanks to a minor guilt trip she put on me by "you're the oldest grandchild, you've known him the longest," I went ahead and said I would put something together for the funeral.
Granted, the funeral isn't scheduled, but it's close. I guess this would be a good time to elaborate on my grandfather's illness. Back in the fall, we as a family learned that 67 (yes, I call my grandpa that) had cancer. Not just one type of cancer, but cancer all over everywhere. The prognosis was that the cancer would shorten his life, but by how much we didn't know. In fact, the doctors were of the mind that 67 could live as long as five more years.
They agressively treated the cancer with kemo and the like, which had what we believed to be incredible results. In fact, by December, they had decided to down the dosage to just a maintenence dose. So we believed things were good.
We were wrong.
I'm not sure when it first happened, but I noticed that gramps was horribley ill about a month ago. I just thought it was the after effects of the radiation, but a week after that, my tough-as-nails grandpa needed a cane to get around. Easter came and me moved like he had suffered a stroke. The similarities between his actions and my other grandfather's actions were eerily similar. Grandma, my uncle and my mom took him to the doctor for some type of scan and the results were not good.
I'm not sure how to describe it but the maintenence dosage didn't do the trick. In fact, the cancer reappeared everywhere including his brain. The spots on the brain were causing swelling which in turn was causing the stroke-like symptoms. His doctors recommended radiation to help the quality of life, rather than the quantity. I was lead to believe he had probably another 4-6 months. This was last Thursday. On Sunday evening, my grandma called 911 because Gramps was choking and having trouble breathing. They took him to the hospital and he stayed the night.
It was described as the "beginnings of a stroke." Now the belief we have is that once the radiation is done, things will go south fast. Our timetable has been reduced from months to most likely weeks. And I can only hope they do as bad as that sounds. But no one wants to see a loved one suffer, so if this stuff is to take him, I pray that it takes him quickly.
posted by Rusty @ 6:32 PM
Comments: 3
