When it rains…


It pours. The man pictured above is one of a few people who can be credited with raising me to be the woman I am today. He is my grandpa, and even though he had his faults, he was there for me and my mom when we needed him the most. He helped my mom and I out of a dangerous situation when I was very young and then helped support us until my mom could get on her own two feet again. If not for him and my grandma, I wouldn’t be here today, I can guarantee it.

And I’ll more than likely never see him alive again. The last time I saw him he was lying in a hospital bed hooked up to more tubes and machines than I can even begin to count. His heart is failing, and considering its been functioning with just one working artery for the last 7 years, it’s a miracle he made it this far. And even if they were able to repair his heart, he has lung cancer for the third time, and his spine is so twisted that he’ll be completely paralyzed from the waist down in six months if they don’t do surgery to fix it, which they won’t do unless his heart is strong enough, which it most definitely is not.

So now we wait. He’s signed a DNR and has made it clear he doesn’t want to die in a hospital, so all we can do is wait for either his heart to fail or the cancer to take him. He’ll be 86 in 10 days, and I’ve made him promise that I’ll see him on father’s day this year. The really cruel part of this all? It’s entirely possible his heart will hold out long enough for him to die of lung cancer, which I wouldn’t wish on my worst fucking enemy. I’ve had to watch my once indestructable grandpa become weaker and weaker, to the point that he can’t even walk anymore and is reliant on my grandmother to feed him because his arms aren’t strong enough to lift a spoon with food on it to his mouth.

My HCG has finally gone down to zero, so now begins the rather long process of figuring out why I keep miscarrying, which will involve more needles and tests and god knows what else. And in the mean time, I have to refrain from the one thing that could take my mind off everything that is wrong with my life, at least for a little while. It’s about to be a very long summer.

I’ve started running, I’m doing the couch to 5k program. I need a distraction, and focusing on one of the few things I do have control over has helped tremendously. I’m trying to stay away from taking my bipolar and anxiety medication, but I don’t know how long that is going to last. Once we start trying to have a baby I’m going to need to go off it again, so it’s not like I’ll be able to take it for very long anyways. And frankly, I don’t like who I become when I’m on it, so I’d rather not take it if I can avoid it.

I’m just done. If it’s not one thing, it’s another, and this whole year has just been one heartbreak or struggle after another. I feel like I’m barely treading water, and I just feel like there is a giant storm headed my way. I can’t explain it, but I just have this overwhelming sense of foreboding that the first half of this year was nothing compared to what the rest of the year has in store for me, and I just don’t know how I’m going to get through everything.

I know people die all the time, and my grandpa has had a good, long life. I’m incredibly thankful that he has lived this long, I know not everyone is that lucky. I’ve lost enough young people close to me to know he is one of the lucky ones. It doesn’t make this suck any less. He has always been my rock, the one person I can count on to keep me up when the whole world seems to be crashing down around me. And pretty soon, I’m not going to have that anymore. And I hate watching him go from the grandpa I could always count on, to the man who can’t lift a spoon, let alone anything else. I was young enough when my grandma died that I didn’t realize just how much pain she was in, and my aunt died so quickly that I never even saw her in pain.

But I watched what happened when my uncle was diagnosed with cancer. He was either so high on morphine that he didn’t recognize us, or he was in so much pain that he couldn’t give us a hug without crying. He ended up dying by choking on the blood that was filling his lungs. His last moments were spent in terror, after a terrifying and painful fight against a disease he didn’t stand a chance of beating. And now my grandpa, the one person who doesn’t deserve that kind of pain, is dying of the exact same fucking disease. Part of me wishes his mind would go first so that he doesn’t realize how much pain he is in, but the selfish part of me couldn’t handle him not recognizing me when I come to visit. I realize how incredibly selfish that makes me.

Sorry for the brain dump, I just needed to get this off my chest.


5 thoughts on “When it rains…

  1. At times, we all require a brain dump. There’s no reason to offer an apology for this, sweetheart.

    I’m very sorry to learn of your grandfather. Such a terrible experience, the loss of a grandparent, and perhaps worse… the waiting for the news of that loss when you know it’s only a matter of when. {{{hugs}}}

    I will be keeping you in my heart and thoughts are you undergo testing. I do so very much hope that it’s a simple problem that can be addressed quickly. Sometimes, things really are simple, which is the case my heart pleads for you.

    I’m so proud of you and the strength of your spirit. What you have been through has been no breezy stroll, but you still carry yourself with a grace and elegance that reflects your inner courage. It may be strangled, a small whisper, in the times of these greatly upsetting events, but it is still there.

    It is not selfish to wish for comforting things. You are viewing from both sides of the same terrible abyss—one side of the gaping crevice is the ultimate and desperate want for him to forget being riddled with pain, while on the other, your heart (overflowing with love, memories and good intent) wishes the recognition dawn in his eyes, for him to see his granddaughter and share in those moments of memories. No, it is not selfish. It is human to be torn. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  2. *hugs* I’m sorry that all of this is happening at once.

    I have this memory of my grandfather that I’ll hang on to forever; he was standing outside of my grandparents’ properties and had just finished moving these massive railroad ties to help mark off the drive way from the drain ditch on either side. He feigned a Russian accent and slapped his left bicep, “Strong! Like bull!” Eleven years later, Parkinson’s and pneumonia took him from us at 72. The last time that I saw him was in hospice, unable to speak or fully sit up. I still miss him greatly and that was now 7 years ago; it kills me that he didn’t get to see Megan and he won’t get to meet Sage.

    I haven’t been taking my Zoloft lately. I wanted to see if I would do better now that we’re moved away from the Illinois crazy, I can feel the baby move regularly, and things have settled down. It can also mess with your milk production for the first week or so after delivery and I remember the first week of nursing a new baby being hellish to start with. I don’t want to make it harder. So far, I’ve been doing okay. I’ve had a few panic attacks here and there and some “low” moments, but overall…I think I can stay off of it and be okay…at least for the foreseeable future.

    I’m jealous of your couch-to-5k program! I’m giving my body a month after Sage and then I’m figuring something out. I hate feeling so out of shape. I also hate that the last doctor I saw in Illinois seemed to be of the mind that my general weakness that I was feeling was in my head. it’s always great having someone who is a size zero stand in front of your and go, “You need to go to the gym. Sometimes you just have to make yourself.” and not hear you say, “I get dizzy and feel like I can’t breathe at anything over a moderate pace.” In any case, if you need a cheerleader (who sits on her butt and waves the pom poms no higher than chest level :-P), I’m here. I hope the impending doom feeling is wrong. *hugs*

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’ve never seen someone close to me get Parkinson’s, but I imagine watching someone die from that is horrible. I’m sorry you had to go through that, but it is comforting to know you’re able to remember the good times along with the bad. The last three decades have provided plenty of good memories, so I’m hoping I’ll be able to hang onto those if/when he gets really bad.

      I’ve had a couple of panic attacks in the last few weeks, which have been pretty severe. I broke down and took one of those particular pills yesterday because I couldn’t handle it anymore. Both fortunately and unfortunately, I’ve been so stressed over everything that I haven’t really had time to slow down and take stock of just how bad everything else is, at least mentally speaking. I’m sure it will catch up with me eventually, I’m just not equipped to deal with it right now. My therapist says that isn’t healthy, but right now I need to function and if I give into it, I’ll be comatose for days.

      I have to go pick Joe up from work, so I’ll come back and finish commenting on your other points.


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