Trying to survive Cancer when you don't have the disease.
5:00 AM, Saturday, April 5, 2008
The rain is coming down pretty hard outside. The meteorologists warned of light storms overnight. Must be nice to be able to predict things and be prepared for them... unlike the storms that have taken over our lives. The Unknown Lymphoma storm of '04 (Baby Bro). The Brain Tumor/Paralysis storm of '05 (Daddy). The Multiple Myeloma storm of '06 (Mama). And now--after the brain tumor has been vanquished, the lymphoma tamed, the myeloma sent packing with its tail between its legs--the lymphoma has found a new port of call. Baby Bro's brain. And it is mad as hell.
Just when I thought it was safe to breathe.
I had to sit down with my sister-in-law today and listen to my brother's doctor explain that this could be Barry's last hurrah. Dr. Z isn't giving up by any means--Barry has consistently pulled miracle after miracle out of his ass for the past four years, so with him, there's always hope. But now that it's in the brain, IT IS NOT PLAYING. We have to be prepared, in case.
I have to hold everything in. If I crack, everyone else will too. Gotta love that kind of pressure. If Mama wasn't in partial remission, and Daddy fully recovered... I would honestly think about cashing in my chips and waiting for everybody on The Other Side. Does that make me a coward?
I don't want to escape responsibility. I just want the pain to stop.
The rain is coming down pretty hard outside. The meteorologists warned of light storms overnight. Must be nice to be able to predict things and be prepared for them... unlike the storms that have taken over our lives. The Unknown Lymphoma storm of '04 (Baby Bro). The Brain Tumor/Paralysis storm of '05 (Daddy). The Multiple Myeloma storm of '06 (Mama). And now--after the brain tumor has been vanquished, the lymphoma tamed, the myeloma sent packing with its tail between its legs--the lymphoma has found a new port of call. Baby Bro's brain. And it is mad as hell.
Just when I thought it was safe to breathe.
I had to sit down with my sister-in-law today and listen to my brother's doctor explain that this could be Barry's last hurrah. Dr. Z isn't giving up by any means--Barry has consistently pulled miracle after miracle out of his ass for the past four years, so with him, there's always hope. But now that it's in the brain, IT IS NOT PLAYING. We have to be prepared, in case.
I have to hold everything in. If I crack, everyone else will too. Gotta love that kind of pressure. If Mama wasn't in partial remission, and Daddy fully recovered... I would honestly think about cashing in my chips and waiting for everybody on The Other Side. Does that make me a coward?
I don't want to escape responsibility. I just want the pain to stop.