My grandmother is dying of cancer.

The BBQ Pit
1

Right now as we speak she is in the hospital. The doctor is telling us that it may be weeks, it may be days, but it will be soon. My mother, through her tears, is telling me that now is the time to make my final goodbyes to her. I don’t know whether my grandmother knows that she is dying or not.

The rational person in me tells me that the death of your elders is inevitable. That may be, and right now I am in complete control of myself, but I can guarantee that when she finally does die I will be crying like a little girl. I know that, and I am steeling myself for that, but it won’t matter. I’m still going to be inconsolable when it happens. What’s worse, in a few weeks I have a trip to Kwajalein, so there’s a very good chance that I won’t be here when it happens. :frowning:

And here’s the kicker: my grandmother is the strongest woman I ever knew. Up until a few moths ago she used to clean my mother and my uncle’s houses just for something to do. She had more energy than anyone I have ever seen. She even refused to disrupt Christmas last year with the bad news. Now she will never see another Christmas.

When I went to see her the other day, all she could say was “Oh my goodness!”. She recognized me and she introduced me to the nurse and everything. But she kept saying “Oh, my goodness!” over and over again when she could catch her breath. She has to know that she’s dying even if nobody has told her as much, and my family won’t let her go, release her from her pain. I talked to her and I kissed her goodbye, and now I don’t know if I have the strength to go back again to see her.

And the worst part: she’s killing herself, little by little. It’s her body that is producing the cancer cells. It’s her body that is failing her. What kind of cruel and unmerciful God would let her die in such a horrible manner? Certainly not my God. Fuck that. Predestination? If it is, then I will have lost all faith. If it’s just God keeping His hands off and letting things go as they may, then all I feel is disgust. The least the son of a bitch could do is have mercy on her and let her die instead of making her suffer so.

I don’t know if we’ll ever find the cure for cancer. And frankly, I don’t care. Just end her suffering, please, God. Let her go.

Actualy, I haven’t even touched on the worst part: the worst part is that I have the intelligence and the ability to become a doctor, to devote my entire life to the study of saving people. I know that intuitively. And yet I am so squeamish at the sight of blood and gore that I know that I could never do it. A great mind wasted. Story of my fucking life. All because I get pukey when I see blood. I am a chickenshit waste of life. All the gifts I have been given and I won’t raise a single finger to try to save people from an agonizing death. I am such a coward.

Goodnight, all. I beg your forgiveness for what I am. I am but a worm, unworthy of the ground that my grandmother will soon be resting in. What a waste, in every respect.

2

By the way I lied. I am not in control of myself. Right now I am bawling my eyes out.

Yet another failing on my behalf.

Jesus Christ, just let her go. Let her go.

3

Oh man. :frowning:

I’m sorry, I just don’t have much else to say. I wish peace for her, for you, and for your family.

4

You are doing it in a different way. You have done it in a different way, and you will continue, as long as you are able, to do it in a different way.

There is more to making life worth living than what can be done with a scalpel. Someone must teach the doctor, someone must feed the doctor, someone must house and clothe and heat and comfort the doctor. Someone must keep the doctor safe from fire, from water, from wind and disaster and … everything. Everything.

This is a seldom-considered facet of civilized society (if it seems like I am talking down to you, I promise I am not.). The doctor, the nurse, the surgeon, the EMT - all these people must by virtue of spending their time in specialized work, rely upon the kindness of strangers, so to speak. They do not operate threshers or make their own clothing, they are usually not equipped to construct their own domiciles, etc. The majority of a civilized society keeps the medical profession (and most any profession) in existence, and they in turn keep us going.

Lastly, I hope you will appreciate the gravity of this statement (which is rescinded the very moment you can function without it:D):

Go Steelers!

5

I’m so sorry, Airman. I lost my mother to cancer 12 years ago. The pain dulls as time passes, but I’m sorry to say it never goes completely away. I wasn’t able to find comfort in God, as I had rejected that idea many years ago. Perhaps you will find that comfort eventually. At least take comfort in the kowledge that there are many of your fellow dopers who care. People are all we’ve got, my friend, but you have plenty of people who are with you in this.

6

I’m sorry to hear that, Airman. My one true love’s mother died of cancer last month, just after our wedding. Her brother died of cancer in January. It is painful thing to watch, and you can do little else but watch. When the end finally comes, there is relief along with the sadness because then the suffering is over and the loved ones can begin their process of grief.

Our hearts go out to you and yours.

7

Airman, I assure you that you are not a coward. It is inevitable that our loved ones (both young and old) will die, and always in circumstances that are beyond our control. Even if you had become a doctor, you would not be able to save your grandmother. Please realize this. Cancer is a horrible disease that even the most competent doctors and health care professionals cannot halt.

This having been said, I would encourage you and your family to look into hospice care. The nurses and doctors will not only be sure that your grandmom is not in any pain, they also will help you and your family deal with the the stress involved with losing a loved one.

I send my blessings and love to you and your entire family. It is a difficult time and I know you will continue to be strong and lead yourself and your family through this crisis.

8

I’m so sorry, Airman. The waiting is the worst part. But you shouldn’t beat yourself up about all the things you didn’t do; everyone can’t be a doctor. Becoming a doctor wouldn’t have saved her, and it’s not like we have so few doctors that people are dying from want of care. I’m sure she had the best of attention, it just that cancer is a bitch. Take care of yourself.

9

And we’ll never know, will we? It’s always the one guy that comes up with the answer. But not me, all because I’m a big pussy. Maybe I have the answer. Maybe I have the answer to all of life’s problems. But for want of some fucking guts I guess we’ll never know.

10

This week a kid died who went to the high school I teach at; he was driving, spun out on some gravel and hit a tree. Who knows, maybe better gravel-gripping tires could have saved him. Who knows, maybe I could have invented those tires. If only materials and cars didn’t bore me so much I might have become a tire engineer. Who knows. But, it doesn’t make me responsible for the kid’s death, nor does it make me negligent in some way for not pre-emptively knowing the mode of death and taking steps to prevent it.

You’ve got my thoughts, Airman.

11

Quit beating yourself up. Think rationally for a minute, if you are so horrible and so cowardly, explain how you are so lucky to have Robyn and Aaron. Please read the rest of my post. Death happens even to the families of physicians. Getting an MD does not insulate you from incurable illnesses.

12

Loss of a loved one is never easy.

Feelings are a funny thing, there is no “right” way to feel in a situation like this. Don’t be suprised if you find yourself feeling “nothing” or “angry”. It’s normal.

My aloha to you and all of yours.

13

AD: It’s always the one guy that comes up with the answer. But not me, all because I’m a big pussy. Maybe I have the answer. Maybe I have the answer to all of life’s problems. But for want of some fucking guts I guess we’ll never know.

But Airman, no matter what you did you would be missing opportunities to save somebody in a different way. Suppose you had become an MD—suppose even that you’d become a cancer researcher, suppose even that you’d actually made a breakthrough in curing or preventing cancer—and your grandmother had died after being shot by a mugger. Then you’d be tormented by the thought that if you’d only become a policeman instead, you might have taken the jerk down before he had a chance to encounter your grandmother.

You never can know what opportunities you’d actually have had if you led your life differently. That’s why you can only make your choices according to the present reality. That means making choices for yourself as you are, squeamishness about blood and all, and not wasting your time in regrets that you weren’t different.

I don’t expect that any of our arguments will make you feel better now—I don’t think anything’s going to make you feel better now—but maybe after some months or years they will help a little bit.

I’m so sorry to hear about your grandmother.

14

Airman, my grandmother, too, is dying, although not of anything nearly as specific as cancer. The problem is, she’s in Sussex, England, so I won’t get to see her before she dies. My mother’s just spent a month with her, and her main problem is she’s 90 years old. It will be a mercy if she can die in her sleep; it will also hurt like hell. I’ve known this for a couple of months now, and arranged for friends to back me up when it happens and I can’t stop crying.

When my father’s mother died several years ago, my parents were in England and Dad had seen her just a few days before. I got the call at about 4:00 in the morning and called the folks at my other grandmothers’ in England. I then, being a rational, sensible, and strong person, got up and walked a mile and a half to work. When I got to work, I realized I still couldn’t bring myself under control, and couldn’t stop crying. I finally gave up, told my boss what happened, took the rest of the day off, and called my priest, still crying. I know. It’s easier for me because I’m a woman and women are allowed to cry. Most women are, anyway; long ago I developed a policy of not crying in public. I did that day.

You’re not a coward, and you’re not weak for dreading this or for knowing you’ll burst into tears when it happens. Indeed, I’ve got a lot more respect for you having admitted this and preparing yourself to face it than I would have if you’d hidden it behind a mask. My e-mail address is in my profile. If you want a shoulder to cry on which belongs to someone who’s not a relative but a step removed, I can send you my phone number. Hell, if it comes to it, you’re not that far a drive away. If you like, I’ll even say a prayer not only for your grandmother, but for you. It’s always seemed to me that the living are far more in need of prayers from the dead.

In the meantime, please accept a hug and a shoulder to lean on and cry on from me. I am here for you if you need me.

CJ

15

A boss of mine at my last job, a cardiologist, died from cancer. And my alma mater honors a researcher who was well-known and groundbreaking in the field of cancer research. Cancer ended his life in 1994; even that Nobel prize winner in medicine couldn’t cure himself.

I know that won’t help you feel better, but I figured I’d give it a try. I’m truly sorry you’re having to go through this, and I will have you and your grandmother in my thoughts.

16

{{{Airman}}}

Hang in there. Go ahead and feel whatever you’re feeling, it’s gonna be a rollercoaster for a while.

And give Aaron a hug and think about all the stories you’ll be telling him about his greatgramma as he grows up. She’ll live on in your loving memory.

17

I’m so, so sorry, Airman. I’ve lost relatives to cancer, and it’s excruciating. My thoughts will be with you and Robyn.

Stay busy. Do what you can for your mom and her siblings. If you can, try to make sure she’s as free from pain as possible. Remember that, thankfully, mercifully, this will end.

You sound exactly like me when my grandmother was dying of cancer. Watching her die killed off the last of my faith in any kind of loving god.

18

This is never easy. Most of us accept, intellectually, that we all have to die eventually, but that doesn’t make it any easier to face it when it actually happens.

My experience is that we have an innate ability to deal with our own impending death. I can’t imagine being told that I am going to die in a few days/weeks, but most people I’ve ever told this or who have been told this before I’ve seen them have been (oddly, IMO) accepting of the idea. He or she is usually the one being strong for the other family members, who often have a much harder time.

The important thing to remember is that while her death cannot be prevented (most likely), she does not have to suffer. This is what hospice and palliative care medicine is all about, and if they are not involved yet, I would try to get them on board.

19

I am very sad to hear this, Airman Doors. My best wishes go out to you and your family.

My father died from cancer when I was 11 years old. It was excruciating, but I didn’t know how to let him go. In fact, your description of your visit with her nailed me right in a particularly painful memory of a misunderstanding that I had of one of the last things my dad tried to say to me.

I’m sorry, and I hope that you can find strength and solace in happy and warm memories of your grandmother. Just recognize that fantasies about being able to control or prevent the uncontrollable are very natural. Generally they are not very helpful, because they transfer righteous pain and anger at the circumstances erroenously to ourselves out of a false sense of responsibility.

Take good care of yourself.

20

You are weeping for her and not yourself, and that shows both love and honor. Be with her physically whenever possible and show her with words and touch the love you obviously feel for her, and in return she will stay with you forever. Memories of pain eventually leave, and the soul can heal, because the memories of joy and love are what heal it.
pax