I need to stop smoking. It’s getting too expensive, my job has made it harder to smoke during work hours, even on break, and the biggest reason of all: I just found out the best man1 I’ve ever known, my Pawpa, has lung cancer.
He was rushed to the hospital last week with chest pain. He had been tired and lethargic all week and my Granny thought he might have been having another heart attack. Turns out he was severely anemic and had to have a few blood transfusions. The doctors ran more tests and found an enlarged, hemorrhaging mass in his lungs. They admitted him for several days and did a biopsy.
The results came back and while I was visiting last night, Granny broke the news to me. Pawpa has lung cancer. We don’t know what stage it’s in or what treatment options there are yet. His doctor is referring him to an oncologist. Granny says Pawpa is depressed and she has had him on her version of suicide watch since he was diagnosed. He is so depressed; he doesn’t even want to fight it.
I’m scared. I wanted to break down and cry and hug him and tell him how much I love him, but he needs us to be strong for him. So I swallowed my tears and played the role of the optimist. After I left my grandparents house, I burst into tears while driving the twenty miles back home.
I relived all the loss from last year and I had a notion that broke my heart to even consider: what if all that loss was partly meant to prepare me for the death of my Pawpa?
I thought about how Granny’s health has finally improved and now my Pawpa is in for the fight of his life with cancer. It’s not fair. I want nothing more in this world than both of them to be in excellent health and live many, many more years.
One of the main reasons I’m trying to get healthy is so I can have a successful pregnancy. What if my beloved Pawpa is not here to see me have a child? What if my child never knows what a wonderful man my Pawpa is? How can our family survive without him?
I never was a momma’s girl because I was too busy being her mother. I was never a daddy’s girl because he was never there. I was always a Pawpa’s girl, hell, I still am. He even has a goofy nickname for me that I’ve never liked, but the possibility that he may not be around much longer to annoy me with it is devastating.
I’m also terribly worried for my Granny. She just lost her sister and a brother and her other brother is very ill himself. Now, her husband of 56+ years has cancer and may not survive it. She has her strong face on, per usual, but inside, I know she is hurting even more than I am. They bicker and annoy the hell out of each other sometimes, but they also love each other so much.
I cried myself to sleep when I got home and I’ve spent all day in bed, mostly crying. The last three Februarys have had at least one tragedy and I can officially say I hate February. I wish this was just a bad dream.
On this day..
- Untitled - 2007
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About BipolarChick (599 posts)
I’m a thirty-something bipolar woman, an advanced tech agent with a pay tv provider, tax preparer for a local charity, current Tulsa inhabitant, and I’m one credit shy of an Associate Degree in Liberal Arts. I’m working on recovery from self-injury and working toward stabilizing my bipolar symptoms. Recovery is very important to me. I’ve been mostly single the past few years and plagued by a seemingly never-ending series of jackasses, assholes, and married men. I have no children of my own, but I have lots of nieces and nephews I love to spoil.