(no subject)
Someone's LJ name is "The Leering Subconsicous." (I know I can't spell that.) This cracks me up. *waves*
Well, Uncle Mark is doing good. He's started meditating again, because he was going through his records and noticed that the times when his calcitonin levels went down was when he was meditating. Interesting, no? All you other people-with-cancer, take note.
My grandparents are falling apart. My grandmother, Memo, is in third stage Alzhiemer's. (that would be the last stage.) She's exhausting to be around (though pretty entertaining at times), though she seems very happy. We're all her childhood friends, which can get interesting. Playing someone real can get tricky. She has a bone infection in her toe that they can't treat without putting her on IV, and in order to do that they'd have to move her out of the home that she's in (demolishing what little memories she has left and making her frightened, miserable, and unhappy) *and* they'd have to strap her down to a bed so she couldn't move. But her toe doesn't hurt, so we've got her on maintanence anti-whatevers and that'll slow the infection. There was talk of amputating her toe, but the circulation is so bad that the doc said once they started that, they'd have to keep amputating bits at a time clear up to her hip before it would heal. So we're just leaving it, and when she starts to hurt we'll give her something to stop hurting. She also has a heart arythmia (sp?), so . . . well, it's very, VERY unlikely that she'll be around next Christmas. Or next July.
On the one hand, I've done most of my grieving. On the other, 'most' doesn't mean 'all.' On the magical third hand, the logical side of my brain goes, "Good news! This is one of the easier types of grief, because you know it's coming and you know she's so far gone that death won't be a bad thing, and you will feel some relief because this child masquarading in your grandmother's body will no longer need care!" But, y'know, that doesn't really help much.
(The grief also hasn't hit really, yet. I'm sure it will at some point.)
Grandpa went into the doc, who told him that he had to have prostate surgery, but before they could do that they had to fix... I forget what it's called. WHere a bit of the artery wall thins (and eventually bursts, killing you) first. But he can't have either surgery because he's on cumidin.
My grandpa brightened right up and said, "I'm not doign that again! (He had heart surgery once before.) I'm going to go out and buy myself a cantelope, and we're not doing any surgeries! I'm ready to go!" *laughs* I suppose it's good. He's kinda been ready to die for a while, and he's so much happier now that it's hard to be upset about it. (Not upset that he would make that desicion, but upset that he'll be dying soon, too.) He has emphasima and can't hardly to anything anymore, so this may be a blessing in disguise. Still.
Bleh.
In good news (which, btw, I am CLINGING to) I get to go up to TO on Sunday, and see D on Monday, and bring him home on Thursday. Poor pup is going to help me deal with Christmas. ;)
Speaking of which... TANGERINE! Dude! Woman! Do you NEVER answer your e-mail? Don't make me get off my lazy ass and CALL you! How horrific would that be? Are you still working afternoons/evenings? Are you aware that it's three hours earlier here? Calling you would make me wake up at a reasonable hour! The horror! Anyway, let me know when I can see you Tuesday or Wednesday. I miss ya, lady. :) (Also, do you want action figures?)
I have got the nastiest taste in my mouth. Naaaasty. I should go brush my teeth, and maybe work on Senbon Santas, and then bed.
Oh, and I remembered to eat today. Two meals and several snacks. WOO! Go me!
J
My grandf
Well, Uncle Mark is doing good. He's started meditating again, because he was going through his records and noticed that the times when his calcitonin levels went down was when he was meditating. Interesting, no? All you other people-with-cancer, take note.
My grandparents are falling apart. My grandmother, Memo, is in third stage Alzhiemer's. (that would be the last stage.) She's exhausting to be around (though pretty entertaining at times), though she seems very happy. We're all her childhood friends, which can get interesting. Playing someone real can get tricky. She has a bone infection in her toe that they can't treat without putting her on IV, and in order to do that they'd have to move her out of the home that she's in (demolishing what little memories she has left and making her frightened, miserable, and unhappy) *and* they'd have to strap her down to a bed so she couldn't move. But her toe doesn't hurt, so we've got her on maintanence anti-whatevers and that'll slow the infection. There was talk of amputating her toe, but the circulation is so bad that the doc said once they started that, they'd have to keep amputating bits at a time clear up to her hip before it would heal. So we're just leaving it, and when she starts to hurt we'll give her something to stop hurting. She also has a heart arythmia (sp?), so . . . well, it's very, VERY unlikely that she'll be around next Christmas. Or next July.
On the one hand, I've done most of my grieving. On the other, 'most' doesn't mean 'all.' On the magical third hand, the logical side of my brain goes, "Good news! This is one of the easier types of grief, because you know it's coming and you know she's so far gone that death won't be a bad thing, and you will feel some relief because this child masquarading in your grandmother's body will no longer need care!" But, y'know, that doesn't really help much.
(The grief also hasn't hit really, yet. I'm sure it will at some point.)
Grandpa went into the doc, who told him that he had to have prostate surgery, but before they could do that they had to fix... I forget what it's called. WHere a bit of the artery wall thins (and eventually bursts, killing you) first. But he can't have either surgery because he's on cumidin.
My grandpa brightened right up and said, "I'm not doign that again! (He had heart surgery once before.) I'm going to go out and buy myself a cantelope, and we're not doing any surgeries! I'm ready to go!" *laughs* I suppose it's good. He's kinda been ready to die for a while, and he's so much happier now that it's hard to be upset about it. (Not upset that he would make that desicion, but upset that he'll be dying soon, too.) He has emphasima and can't hardly to anything anymore, so this may be a blessing in disguise. Still.
Bleh.
In good news (which, btw, I am CLINGING to) I get to go up to TO on Sunday, and see D on Monday, and bring him home on Thursday. Poor pup is going to help me deal with Christmas. ;)
Speaking of which... TANGERINE! Dude! Woman! Do you NEVER answer your e-mail? Don't make me get off my lazy ass and CALL you! How horrific would that be? Are you still working afternoons/evenings? Are you aware that it's three hours earlier here? Calling you would make me wake up at a reasonable hour! The horror! Anyway, let me know when I can see you Tuesday or Wednesday. I miss ya, lady. :) (Also, do you want action figures?)
I have got the nastiest taste in my mouth. Naaaasty. I should go brush my teeth, and maybe work on Senbon Santas, and then bed.
Oh, and I remembered to eat today. Two meals and several snacks. WOO! Go me!
J
My grandf