Posts tagged death
Since Pawpa died my world spun so quickly, I was certain I was going to fall off and go hurling back into that black hole of depression; the one that is always threatening to make me hate everything, especially myself; the black hole which makes me wish death would put me out of my misery once and for all.
The hole was so deep I didn’t see how I would get out of it. I was trapped there for most of August((one of my shortest, but most intense, depressive episodes)). It was triggered by all the death, the loss of my job, the instability in my romantic life, my sister’s move to the east coast, and my being on the verge of financial ruin and homelessness once again. At one point, I had decided to give up and kill myself.
One of his doctors came in and told us that Pawpa has pancreatic, stomach, and lung cancer and he is still waiting for the CT results to see if it has spread to his brain. He said the only treatment option is chemo but that it is ineffective with pancreatic cancer and the side effects are terrible. He said again that they will keep him comfortable. He said he would discharge Pawpa to go home as soon as we are ready. Granny told him we’d be ready by Saturday evening. The doctor then recommended Evergreen Hospice and said he would call them for us.
A nurse from the hospice came in about an hour or so later. She explained what hospice does and what they can do to help us take care of Pawpa at home. They’ll bring a wheelchair, hospital bed and other supplies. I couldn’t stop crying.
Mom slept most of the time. After the nurse from hospice left, Granny told me she wasn’t ready to lose Pawpa. She talked about how they grew up together. She was fifteen and he was seventeen when they got married. She also talked about how much she loves him. I know this heartbreaking for her. She said, “He told me last night he wants to go home and die with dignity.”
The only justification I can think of for all these cancers to invade my Pawpa’s body is so he doesn’t have to suffer for a long time, but still have time to say his goodbyes. Less than three weeks ago, Pawpa was fine, and then boom, terminal cancer.
There is so much bullshit going on right now I don’t know whether to scratch my watch or wind my head. I’ve been in a form of shock over my grandfather’s health. I wasn’t prepared for this. I don’t know how to handle it in a healthy way. My first instinct was to cut because I knew that seeing my blood would help me feel better and bring on the calm numbness.
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.
- related to me [↩]
After meeting my hematologist, in January, I started thinking about my health and what I need to do to make it better. He told me I have to stop smoking, start exercising, and lose weight. Smoking and all the extra weight I’m carrying increases my already high risk for stroke, blood clots, heart attack, embolus, and deep vein thrombosis. Those factors no doubt attributed to my high blood pressure and diabetes as well. I’m at a point where if I don’t do something to turn the decline of my physical health around it will kill me sooner rather than later and I won’t be able to carry a baby full-term. I can’t handle another miscarriage.
A few months after I graduated high school I embarked on a journey to lose weight. I succeeded. I lost 100 pounds in eight months, but I did it in a less than healthy way. I took prescription diet pills and I severely restricted my caloric intake. It got to the point where I would fast 3-4 days a week and on the days I would it, I wouldn’t eat more than 500 calories. I isolated myself from everyone. I was starving myself. My family was worried about me and there were rumors of me using meth to lose weight, which were untrue.