Monday, August 6, 2012

Tomorrow

I've been thinking, knowing that I needed to put something down about what is going on, but I've been fighting it like I always do. My mind runs in cycles of thinking maybe it's good to let it out, and then the thoughts that it's really not a good idea. Some people already know, some all too well, and I feel like there are times when they tire of hearing about it. Not that anyone has ever said it, but it's gone on so long...it's a cycle of sickness and health. Pain and healing. Relief and frustration. And I feel dumb for feeling like I have a reason to be so upset.

I'm not looking forward to tomorrow. Tomorrow my beautiful, sweet, strong and courageous grandmother begins chemotherapy again. I can't even tell you how many times, how many different kinds she's taken. All I know right now is that it's been a lot. A lot.

This month marks 8 years since she was first diagnosed with Ovarian Cancer. I remember how I was told, my mother beside herself screaming, "My mother has cancer!" and feeling like the world was collapsing around me. Every second of that experience is branded in my memory, and every time she starts chemo again I feel like my knees go weak, the words escape me and the tears roll. Then I become this recluse not wishing to discuss it because it makes me extremely vulnerable. This woman I absolutely adore is sick and there isn't a damn thing I can do.

A few months ago my grandmother was on a different type of chemotherapy. She was on it for several months, and then it got to the point where she could barely swallow food or drink. She had a scope done and the oncologist didn't see anything that would cause this to happen. So she and my grandfather talked about it and they decided it was time for a break from chemo. She'd been on it for so long, it really was time. When she went in for her first blood test after stopping chemo, her numbers had dropped substantially...almost 20 points. I'd begun to wonder if she'd been on the chemo so long that it was inhibiting her immune system and now it was finally rebounding. There was a little sliver of hope that things were finally going to get better, but something told me not to get my hopes up too high. It was during this time that her oncologist's office contacted her to let her know that Doxil, the kind of chemo she'd responded best to, was now accepting new names for their waiting list for the drug and recommended that she try to get on that list just in case. (Yes, there is a waiting list for this kind of chemo. Crazy huh?) She got on the waiting list, and it was a good thing because the next time they ran her blood work her numbers had jumped up and she was beginning to feel bad again. She was having pain and other symptoms that are common in Ovarian Cancer patients. She is also having more difficulty keeping food down. So she is scheduled to start chemo tomorrow. One dose per month for six months.

Since learning this I have not wanted to talk about it. Not to my husband, my sisters, my best friend. No one. Actually I still have no desire to discuss it because I'll become a sobbing, babbling idiot and it's not a great sight. I've clammed up. I didn't call her for two weeks. I don't know what to say. I'm afraid I'll start crying and then upset her. I'm afraid of the cancer. I'm so afraid that I have completely let my fear take over. It's absolutely ridiculous.

Yesterday I took Zachary over to their house to swim and I talked to her for a little bit. She was tired and looked weak. She was so small when I gave her a hug. It's so hard to see her like that. I don't want her to have to deal with this crap anymore. I wish there was something I could do that would make it better. I'm working on talking to her more. I hear all the time how lucky I am that she is so close, and they're right I am beyond blessed. I just wish I knew how to deal with this better. I seem to always shut down when she gets sick. I know I am so lucky. I have friends who have lost mothers and other family members to Ovarian Cancer in a shorter amount of time than this. Eight years is a long time to live with Ovarian Cancer. I don't negate that for one second. I know how blessed we are that she is still here with us and continuing to fight. She's the strongest 5 foot tall German I will ever know. She is amazing.


 
So I need some help. I need prayer in a big way. First, please keep my grandmother in your thoughts and prayers. Her name is Irene. Please pray for her strength and healing through this entire process. Second, please pray for my grandpa, Dean. I know this is very hard on him no matter how much strength he feigns. Last, please pray for our family. We are all dealing with this differently, some better than others, but please pray for us to be uplifting to her, and that we would be able to help her with anything she needs emotionally or otherwise. Please pray for strength in spirit because this is very emotionally taxing at times. Please pray that we can overcome our fear so that we can be fully present for her and help her in any way that she needs.  It really means the world to me.