Thank You
I'm starting to forget what it was like not to be going through something horrible. That makes me extremely sad, but I suppose, it really has no choice but to get better soon :P.
All in all, at the moment, I'm handling it not-too-bad, given the circumstances. At least, I'm doing better now than I was a week ago. I'm trying to be more relaxed and realize that the only things within my control are to make sure that I get what I need and that the people around me who I care about get what they need. That can be done. I think. I mean, other than like a week off or something silly like that, it can be done.
It looks like my employer is going to give us the option to take the entire week off between Christmas and New Year. If they do, I think I'll take it and try to spend my days somewhere in between my Gram's house and my Grandpa Lingo's house. It's really sad. Not so much scary, just sad. I know the process of death, the grieving process, the process that the patient goes through. I know what the cancer looks like. I understand what the doctor is saying before he says it and I know what's coming next. In some respects, i've done this before, but it's still so sad.
I can't say that i'm reminded of how fragile life is, watching my Great-Grandmother hooked up to 11 or so tubes to help her live, because i've always known how fragile life is. I've watched it fall apart before in children.
You know, a lot of people say that as their parents and grandparents age they begin to see them as children, feeble and weak. Sitting in that hospitol last night, I couldn't see her as feeble or weak, even as she couldn't lift her leg to free her toes from the blanket or even her hand to sign the waivers. I was looking at the same woman that i've been looking at since I was born. She's older now. Her skin feels more like a fine leather. But at the core, she's stronger now than I've ever known her. She looked a doctor in the eye, a doctor who basically told her she was dying - that it was going to be quick and there wasn't anything he could do for her to make it stop, and she told him she wasn't going anywhere before Christmas. When he looked back at her, he believed her.
I've lived my entire life with a great woman. She wasn't rich. She wasn't always nice. She wasn't always kind or friendly. She wasn't a great humanitarian. She didn't cure the common cold. But she taught me lessons, inadvertant as they may have been, that I'll never forget. Most of all, she taught me to fight for what you believe in and never let it go 'til you're ready.
I love you Gram, but you don't have to stick around for us. You raised us. We'll come out fine.
All in all, at the moment, I'm handling it not-too-bad, given the circumstances. At least, I'm doing better now than I was a week ago. I'm trying to be more relaxed and realize that the only things within my control are to make sure that I get what I need and that the people around me who I care about get what they need. That can be done. I think. I mean, other than like a week off or something silly like that, it can be done.
It looks like my employer is going to give us the option to take the entire week off between Christmas and New Year. If they do, I think I'll take it and try to spend my days somewhere in between my Gram's house and my Grandpa Lingo's house. It's really sad. Not so much scary, just sad. I know the process of death, the grieving process, the process that the patient goes through. I know what the cancer looks like. I understand what the doctor is saying before he says it and I know what's coming next. In some respects, i've done this before, but it's still so sad.
I can't say that i'm reminded of how fragile life is, watching my Great-Grandmother hooked up to 11 or so tubes to help her live, because i've always known how fragile life is. I've watched it fall apart before in children.
You know, a lot of people say that as their parents and grandparents age they begin to see them as children, feeble and weak. Sitting in that hospitol last night, I couldn't see her as feeble or weak, even as she couldn't lift her leg to free her toes from the blanket or even her hand to sign the waivers. I was looking at the same woman that i've been looking at since I was born. She's older now. Her skin feels more like a fine leather. But at the core, she's stronger now than I've ever known her. She looked a doctor in the eye, a doctor who basically told her she was dying - that it was going to be quick and there wasn't anything he could do for her to make it stop, and she told him she wasn't going anywhere before Christmas. When he looked back at her, he believed her.
I've lived my entire life with a great woman. She wasn't rich. She wasn't always nice. She wasn't always kind or friendly. She wasn't a great humanitarian. She didn't cure the common cold. But she taught me lessons, inadvertant as they may have been, that I'll never forget. Most of all, she taught me to fight for what you believe in and never let it go 'til you're ready.
I love you Gram, but you don't have to stick around for us. You raised us. We'll come out fine.
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