pieceofmymindHow Can I Do This?
May 17th 2007 01:16
I decided that it might be somewhat therapeutic for me to share my feelings about this very difficult time in my life with the world. I know my situation may not be that important to those of you on the outside reading into my life, but I know that there is someone in this world who can relate. If that person is you, feel free to share your comments and feelings because this is just hard – there is really no other way to put it.
As I sit here writing this blog post my grandmother is dying from lung cancer. She was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer three years ago, so basically, I’ve known for some time now; however, the recent chain of events just make it feel like I am finding out all over again. At the point of her initial diagnosis, for some reason, we all – myself, my mother and my uncle - just “knew” that we would have a lot more time with my grandmother than the doctors had predicted. Amazingly, we were blessed enough to be right…three years ago they gave my grandmother six months to live, but again, that was three years ago. We thank God for the extra time, especially now, because suddenly, our lives have been turned upside down.
First of all, you have to understand something – my grandmother is not like most grandmothers. I am talking about a woman who left her own mother at the age of 16, and set out to find her way in this world. She was born in the year 1927, so if you know your history, you know what the conditions were like for a young, black woman at the time. Her mother was not happy about her moving from Mississippi to Chicago at such a young age, and none of her eleven brothers and sisters really expected her to make it, but she did. Ending up in Toledo, Ohio, her plan was to work to save money for hair school. To achieve this goal, she took a position at a local hospital as a dietary aide. Obviously she couldn’t have known at the time, but 27 years later, that position ended up being the longest held and last job she would ever have. She could be considered the pioneer of her family because all of her brothers and sisters, along with her parents, relocated to Toledo; many have passed away through the years, but those who are still alive are living here to this day.
She eventually got married to my grandfather, and they raised a son and daughter (my mother). My grandparents took care of me from birth because my mother gave birth to me at the ripe young age of thirteen years, but when I was eight years old (I am now 35), my grandfather passed away, leaving my grandmother to fend for herself. Throughout the years, we had good times and bad times, as all families do. Many of the bad times, and some of the funniest times, were a result of a drinking problem my grandmother developed after my grandfather’s death. Years after losing her husband, my grandmother found love again when she started dating her then boyfriend, George. He was often the brunt of her drunken outbursts. Once she slapped his dentures out of his mouth and onto the floor. That was actually hilarious, and I have to chuckle as I reflect on that because he didn’t even see it coming. Then there was the time when it was New Year’s Eve, and she was on her way out the front door to shoot her gun at midnight – this was an annual tradition in our family, and it had been for years. As she headed for the front porch, George went to reach for her, and she instantly turned, pointing the gun at him – that wasn’t so funny. My mom managed to wrestle the gun from her, but not before she pulled the trigger. Amazingly, the gun didn’t fire when she pulled the trigger; it was only a miracle that prevented it from going off – my little sister was standing right in front of her at the time…what a blessing.
Believe it or not, in the midst of all of the rampant dysfunction, there was, and still is, a lot of love. Prior to all of that, my grandparents were a happily married couple, and if they weren’t, they did a good job of presenting a united front to everyone, including us. When she lost my grandfather, I believe she lost a part of herself that could not be replaced. I am almost certain that the loss of her husband contributed to her increased drinking. After my grandfather’s death, by the grace of God, she managed to remain independent for another 22 years. A beautiful, poised, successful lady who always kept our family together; we owe her our lives. I know she loves us, but through it all, she has had a love for nicotine that she could not (or would not) shake. Her addiction to nicotine is what has brought us to this point, and now we have the very undesirable task of watching powerlessly as lung cancer becomes a bigger part of our lives than we ever anticipated.
Ironically, on this past Mother’s Day, my grandmother suddenly took a turn for the worst. She is not eating, she can barely stand up, and she honestly just looks different. Her eyes are distant, like she is not really with us. She talks to people who are not there, and says things that make no sense at all. Over the past two days, all she does is sleep, and she isn’t even taking any medication that would really make her sleep like that. She has become a different person all at once, and it is a total shock to my system. I am her first-born grandchild, and this is just so difficult for me to see. My grandmother has always been like the backbone of our family. She always taught me to strive for excellence, and tells everyone that I am genius…she told someone that today as a matter of fact, during one of those times when she almost seemed to be back to normal. That makes this even harder because she has moments where she is totally out of it, and then she has moments when it seems like she is back to normal; every time she has a moment like that, there is a ray of hope in my heart that we will go back to the way things were, but each time, I find that it is false hope. Since she has communicated to us that she absolutely does not want to leave home, we are working with hospice to make her comfortable at home during this time. I am spending my days at her house with her, from six in the morning until my mother gets off of work in the evenings, making sure that she has everything she needs; my mother lives with her, and is there at night.
My heart aches to see this, but for some reason, I am just not crying. I’ve had a couple tears here and there, but not really crying like my mother and uncle. Is it because I am “second string” and just the grand-daughter? It doesn’t seem that this is possible because I love her so much. The reality of my grandmother’s decline in health has arrived, and it is in full effect, but it is still so hard to believe. This same woman who took such good care of me throughout my whole life is now unable to even take care of herself. Considering the possibility of life without my grandmother is very difficult; but death is imminent, and I don’t know how I feel about that. I guess we will see what the following days will bring…maybe it will turn to weeks, or even months. In my heart, I don’t believe that it will be years.
As I sit here writing this blog post my grandmother is dying from lung cancer. She was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer three years ago, so basically, I’ve known for some time now; however, the recent chain of events just make it feel like I am finding out all over again. At the point of her initial diagnosis, for some reason, we all – myself, my mother and my uncle - just “knew” that we would have a lot more time with my grandmother than the doctors had predicted. Amazingly, we were blessed enough to be right…three years ago they gave my grandmother six months to live, but again, that was three years ago. We thank God for the extra time, especially now, because suddenly, our lives have been turned upside down.
First of all, you have to understand something – my grandmother is not like most grandmothers. I am talking about a woman who left her own mother at the age of 16, and set out to find her way in this world. She was born in the year 1927, so if you know your history, you know what the conditions were like for a young, black woman at the time. Her mother was not happy about her moving from Mississippi to Chicago at such a young age, and none of her eleven brothers and sisters really expected her to make it, but she did. Ending up in Toledo, Ohio, her plan was to work to save money for hair school. To achieve this goal, she took a position at a local hospital as a dietary aide. Obviously she couldn’t have known at the time, but 27 years later, that position ended up being the longest held and last job she would ever have. She could be considered the pioneer of her family because all of her brothers and sisters, along with her parents, relocated to Toledo; many have passed away through the years, but those who are still alive are living here to this day.
She eventually got married to my grandfather, and they raised a son and daughter (my mother). My grandparents took care of me from birth because my mother gave birth to me at the ripe young age of thirteen years, but when I was eight years old (I am now 35), my grandfather passed away, leaving my grandmother to fend for herself. Throughout the years, we had good times and bad times, as all families do. Many of the bad times, and some of the funniest times, were a result of a drinking problem my grandmother developed after my grandfather’s death. Years after losing her husband, my grandmother found love again when she started dating her then boyfriend, George. He was often the brunt of her drunken outbursts. Once she slapped his dentures out of his mouth and onto the floor. That was actually hilarious, and I have to chuckle as I reflect on that because he didn’t even see it coming. Then there was the time when it was New Year’s Eve, and she was on her way out the front door to shoot her gun at midnight – this was an annual tradition in our family, and it had been for years. As she headed for the front porch, George went to reach for her, and she instantly turned, pointing the gun at him – that wasn’t so funny. My mom managed to wrestle the gun from her, but not before she pulled the trigger. Amazingly, the gun didn’t fire when she pulled the trigger; it was only a miracle that prevented it from going off – my little sister was standing right in front of her at the time…what a blessing.
Believe it or not, in the midst of all of the rampant dysfunction, there was, and still is, a lot of love. Prior to all of that, my grandparents were a happily married couple, and if they weren’t, they did a good job of presenting a united front to everyone, including us. When she lost my grandfather, I believe she lost a part of herself that could not be replaced. I am almost certain that the loss of her husband contributed to her increased drinking. After my grandfather’s death, by the grace of God, she managed to remain independent for another 22 years. A beautiful, poised, successful lady who always kept our family together; we owe her our lives. I know she loves us, but through it all, she has had a love for nicotine that she could not (or would not) shake. Her addiction to nicotine is what has brought us to this point, and now we have the very undesirable task of watching powerlessly as lung cancer becomes a bigger part of our lives than we ever anticipated.
Ironically, on this past Mother’s Day, my grandmother suddenly took a turn for the worst. She is not eating, she can barely stand up, and she honestly just looks different. Her eyes are distant, like she is not really with us. She talks to people who are not there, and says things that make no sense at all. Over the past two days, all she does is sleep, and she isn’t even taking any medication that would really make her sleep like that. She has become a different person all at once, and it is a total shock to my system. I am her first-born grandchild, and this is just so difficult for me to see. My grandmother has always been like the backbone of our family. She always taught me to strive for excellence, and tells everyone that I am genius…she told someone that today as a matter of fact, during one of those times when she almost seemed to be back to normal. That makes this even harder because she has moments where she is totally out of it, and then she has moments when it seems like she is back to normal; every time she has a moment like that, there is a ray of hope in my heart that we will go back to the way things were, but each time, I find that it is false hope. Since she has communicated to us that she absolutely does not want to leave home, we are working with hospice to make her comfortable at home during this time. I am spending my days at her house with her, from six in the morning until my mother gets off of work in the evenings, making sure that she has everything she needs; my mother lives with her, and is there at night.
My heart aches to see this, but for some reason, I am just not crying. I’ve had a couple tears here and there, but not really crying like my mother and uncle. Is it because I am “second string” and just the grand-daughter? It doesn’t seem that this is possible because I love her so much. The reality of my grandmother’s decline in health has arrived, and it is in full effect, but it is still so hard to believe. This same woman who took such good care of me throughout my whole life is now unable to even take care of herself. Considering the possibility of life without my grandmother is very difficult; but death is imminent, and I don’t know how I feel about that. I guess we will see what the following days will bring…maybe it will turn to weeks, or even months. In my heart, I don’t believe that it will be years.
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