My PawPaw
My PawPaw is an awesome man.
My Aunt Janet may think he's bitter and cranky and a jerk, but those who know him think he's amazing. He's hilarious and an absolute joy to be around, even if his sense of humor is a little dark and he has a slightly pessimistic attitude about people.
My PawPaw is also dying.
And we have reason to believe that he has known this for months and not said anything. He is diabetic and in September his medication was changed and he started asking my Nanny a lot of questions--she had thyroid trouble and he asked if it was cancerous, which it wasn't. During that conversation he made several references to his 'cancer', and when she asked him about it, he said he meant his diabetes. The next week we had a family gathering and he gave her and I hugs goodbye. My PawPaw is NOT an affectionate man. I can count on my hand how many hugs I've gotten from him and even less the amount of times he's told me he loved me. After this, he started coming around more. He's losing weight. A LOT of weight. 70 pounds in 2010. His appetite took a nose dive in March after this stomach bug that went around, and it never came back. This weekend, at Christmas, he only ate a spoonful of each dish and skipped dessert. He has had several growths on his body removed, two of which were cancerous. He downplayed that, and when he said things like 'my cancer', I assumed he was talking about the growths on his nose and head. They were very small, and it didn't seem like a big deal because he said that it was fixed by removal.
He's also been talking a lot about my MawMaw, who died when I was 4 years old. Telling a lot of stories about her, saying how much he loved her and misses her...
He is also very ok with hearing he has cancer. I guess that was red flag number one. No denial. No second opinions. Just nodding and asking what they should do next.
Friday night we all had Christmas Eve together. Well, no, not ALL of us. Uncle Butch and Lena couldn't make it down from Washington, Uncle Steve and Cassandra didn't come in from Houston. Aunt Janet lives 20 minutes away but said she was going to go visit my cousin in Baton Rouge. I'm not sure if she was lying or not--I have reason to believe she does shit like this because she doesn't like PawPaw and feels the need to make everything about her. Anyway, the REST of us got together, and it was nice to see my Nanny, Parrain and Natalie, especially since Natalie is leaving on Jan. 10th to go work at Disney for a semester. PawPaw arrived at the same time I did, and he looked really yellow to me, but I didn't really think much of it other than it registered in my mind--after all, he is being seen by doctors for his diabetes and whatnot, and he is insured so there's no reason for him not to go, right? Well, when Nanny arrived, she thought the same thing and she brought it up with him, asked if he was feeling ok and told him he looked jaundiced. We tried to bully him into going to the after hours clinic, but he said no and that he'd go in on Monday. He insisted that he wasn't going to do this on Christmas and he was tired and wanted to go to bed--PawPaw usually wakes up before the sun and goes to bed by 6 pm. At this point, it was 7:30. So she said that after she went to her in-laws for Christmas dinner, she was going to bring him to the after hours clinic, which normally opens at 3, knowing it would be closed on Christmas.
Christmas Day he was jaundiced still and hardly eating and not talking much. When I gave him a hug, he smelled. Not like a BO smell, but just different than I know he normally smells. I called Nanny and brought it up to her, and we all watched him closely. He was the first to leave, right after lunch was over. Nanny brought him to the ER that afternoon, and when they got to triage at Lourdes they didn't even make him sit in the waiting room, they brought him right back to be checked out. The doctor felt a lump on his liver and they took him back for scans (CT? MRI? Dunno.) and when the results were in, the doctor said he didn't have any good news, that he has a large mass on the head of the pancreas and the liver, that he has pancreatic cancer.
Yesterday, they put a stint to help drain bile, which will clear the jaundice. It lasts from 3-5 months, they don't think they'll need to change it. :/ While in there, they found several more masses on his liver and pancreas. They're saying 6 months is what we can expect. He is meeting with an oncologist this week to discuss chemo, although that would only prolong life expectancy to a year, if that.
He wants to fight, which is good, since the road ahead will be tough. I'm hoping they'll let him out of the hospital, since he is unhappy there. When I was visiting on Sunday, Aunt Janet showed up and immediately broke PawPaw's 'no crying' rule. And proceeded to make everything about her. Bitch. And Uncle Steve and Stevie arrived yesterday and are sitting with him this morning so Nanny can get some work done.
It all seems surreal--he was visiting with me a week ago and seemed perfectly fine, telling stories and complaining about some email scam he got. And now he's dying. I go from moments where I am at peace with it to moments where I just can't stop crying. I love my PawPaw so much and I don't want him to die. :(
For as long as I can remember, Natalie has been joking about getting PawPaw's car when he dies, and I always add that I want his cell phone (he always has the newest gadgets) and now that joke just doesn't seem funny anymore. None of the jokes about our family are funny anymore. Nanny said on Christmas Eve, when PawPaw looked so yellow, that Aunt Janet better not be lying about being with Ryan or else she may miss her last Christmas with PawPaw...at the time, I thought she was being melodramatic, but no truer words were spoken this Christmas.
There's so much I don't know about him. I know he was the second oldest, with 6 sisters, and that he grew up on St. Antoine street when it was white, and that as a schoolboy he used to eat meals in the church because his parents couldn't afford lunches for the kids. I know that they added 12th grade to the cirriculum when he was in 11th grade and he dropped out because of it. I know that he joined the army when he was 17 in 1949. I know he was stationed in Paris, Belgium, Germany and Korea and retired from the Army without ever seeing combat. I know when people were being shipped in droves to Korea, they scheduled him for a second round in Paris. I know that when in Germany, he used to take leave one weekend a month and go into the moutains with my MawMaw and they'd drink their asses off and ski. I know that his mortgage payment was only $29/month when he got back home. I know that he arrived in New York, bought a car with cash and drove it home. He lived next door to his parents and when he was deployed overseas again, his parents would help MawMaw out with the kids. I know he strong-armed my MawMaw into having one last child, so my Uncle Butch could have a brother. I know that he drank. A lot. And that he felt a wife's duty was in the kitchen and home with the kids. I know he loved her very, very much and that he was devastated when she died. I know that he was afraid of being thrown overboard when he was travelling via boat to Europe and while on KP he used the wrong cleaning agent on the tabletops and caused them all to change from green to splotchy brown. I know that he is not close to his sisters, even though they live nearby, and he regrets only seeing them at funerals. I know he can't swim, nor could my MawMaw, but they had a pool in their backyard for years. I know he is a Republican. I know he is a Christian. I know that one snowy winter in Germany, they had snow so deep that he could barely drive his army vehicle through it, and he nearly froze with the windows all out. I know that once it snowed several feet in France, and he and those he worked with had to shovel the parking lot instead of play in it. I know that my Aunt was born in Paris, my Mom in Belgium, my Nanny in Mobile, AL, and my two uncles in Lafayette, LA. I know that my Mom's birth cost 10 cents, because of a phone call he made to let those know she arrived. I know that he installed most of the wiring, television, intercoms for Lourdes, Lafayette General, and Womens and Childrens (and probably any business you can name, he will claim, haha) and that he thinks my biological father is an idiot. I knew before my Nanny told me that when he was being examined by the doctor at Lourdes, that he mentioned that he has crawled up in the ceilings there at least once. I know that one of his coworkers and him went to the top floor of Lourdes, in their storage area, to run wire once and there were like 100 wasps nests and he refused to go back in there---I wonder if he is thinking of that while he is laying in bed, strapped to an IV and wondering when he'll die.
He doesn't know he's dying. My Nanny didn't tell him, and I don't blame her. She's going to let that be the Oncologist's job, if he doesn't already know--she broke the news to him yesterday that the tumors are inoperable, and when he asked what they were going to do, she only told him they were going to try chemo next. How do you tell your father that he's going to die, you know?
I think he'll be ok with it--he told me that he's escaped death many times, twice he could have been shipped into war and went to Paris and Germany instead. His wife has been gone for many years and he's lonely in his house alone. He's lived a long life, full of ups and downs. He is taking everything well so far, and while I'm sure he doesn't want to die, I don't think he's afraid to die. I don't particularly want him to die...obviously...but we all decided that we'll stand behind him. If he wants to fight, we'll fight with him. If he doesn't want to fight, we'll support his decision. Right now, he's going down swinging, and I am thankful for that, just as I am thankful for each and every moment left that I get to spend with him. There are a LOT of stories that I haven't heard before, and I plan on knowing more about this man than I know about myself before he goes. And maybe he'll live long enough to meet the last great-grandchild we'll produce for him, if my body will cooperate with me.
My Aunt Janet may think he's bitter and cranky and a jerk, but those who know him think he's amazing. He's hilarious and an absolute joy to be around, even if his sense of humor is a little dark and he has a slightly pessimistic attitude about people.
My PawPaw is also dying.
And we have reason to believe that he has known this for months and not said anything. He is diabetic and in September his medication was changed and he started asking my Nanny a lot of questions--she had thyroid trouble and he asked if it was cancerous, which it wasn't. During that conversation he made several references to his 'cancer', and when she asked him about it, he said he meant his diabetes. The next week we had a family gathering and he gave her and I hugs goodbye. My PawPaw is NOT an affectionate man. I can count on my hand how many hugs I've gotten from him and even less the amount of times he's told me he loved me. After this, he started coming around more. He's losing weight. A LOT of weight. 70 pounds in 2010. His appetite took a nose dive in March after this stomach bug that went around, and it never came back. This weekend, at Christmas, he only ate a spoonful of each dish and skipped dessert. He has had several growths on his body removed, two of which were cancerous. He downplayed that, and when he said things like 'my cancer', I assumed he was talking about the growths on his nose and head. They were very small, and it didn't seem like a big deal because he said that it was fixed by removal.
He's also been talking a lot about my MawMaw, who died when I was 4 years old. Telling a lot of stories about her, saying how much he loved her and misses her...
He is also very ok with hearing he has cancer. I guess that was red flag number one. No denial. No second opinions. Just nodding and asking what they should do next.
Friday night we all had Christmas Eve together. Well, no, not ALL of us. Uncle Butch and Lena couldn't make it down from Washington, Uncle Steve and Cassandra didn't come in from Houston. Aunt Janet lives 20 minutes away but said she was going to go visit my cousin in Baton Rouge. I'm not sure if she was lying or not--I have reason to believe she does shit like this because she doesn't like PawPaw and feels the need to make everything about her. Anyway, the REST of us got together, and it was nice to see my Nanny, Parrain and Natalie, especially since Natalie is leaving on Jan. 10th to go work at Disney for a semester. PawPaw arrived at the same time I did, and he looked really yellow to me, but I didn't really think much of it other than it registered in my mind--after all, he is being seen by doctors for his diabetes and whatnot, and he is insured so there's no reason for him not to go, right? Well, when Nanny arrived, she thought the same thing and she brought it up with him, asked if he was feeling ok and told him he looked jaundiced. We tried to bully him into going to the after hours clinic, but he said no and that he'd go in on Monday. He insisted that he wasn't going to do this on Christmas and he was tired and wanted to go to bed--PawPaw usually wakes up before the sun and goes to bed by 6 pm. At this point, it was 7:30. So she said that after she went to her in-laws for Christmas dinner, she was going to bring him to the after hours clinic, which normally opens at 3, knowing it would be closed on Christmas.
Christmas Day he was jaundiced still and hardly eating and not talking much. When I gave him a hug, he smelled. Not like a BO smell, but just different than I know he normally smells. I called Nanny and brought it up to her, and we all watched him closely. He was the first to leave, right after lunch was over. Nanny brought him to the ER that afternoon, and when they got to triage at Lourdes they didn't even make him sit in the waiting room, they brought him right back to be checked out. The doctor felt a lump on his liver and they took him back for scans (CT? MRI? Dunno.) and when the results were in, the doctor said he didn't have any good news, that he has a large mass on the head of the pancreas and the liver, that he has pancreatic cancer.
Yesterday, they put a stint to help drain bile, which will clear the jaundice. It lasts from 3-5 months, they don't think they'll need to change it. :/ While in there, they found several more masses on his liver and pancreas. They're saying 6 months is what we can expect. He is meeting with an oncologist this week to discuss chemo, although that would only prolong life expectancy to a year, if that.
He wants to fight, which is good, since the road ahead will be tough. I'm hoping they'll let him out of the hospital, since he is unhappy there. When I was visiting on Sunday, Aunt Janet showed up and immediately broke PawPaw's 'no crying' rule. And proceeded to make everything about her. Bitch. And Uncle Steve and Stevie arrived yesterday and are sitting with him this morning so Nanny can get some work done.
It all seems surreal--he was visiting with me a week ago and seemed perfectly fine, telling stories and complaining about some email scam he got. And now he's dying. I go from moments where I am at peace with it to moments where I just can't stop crying. I love my PawPaw so much and I don't want him to die. :(
For as long as I can remember, Natalie has been joking about getting PawPaw's car when he dies, and I always add that I want his cell phone (he always has the newest gadgets) and now that joke just doesn't seem funny anymore. None of the jokes about our family are funny anymore. Nanny said on Christmas Eve, when PawPaw looked so yellow, that Aunt Janet better not be lying about being with Ryan or else she may miss her last Christmas with PawPaw...at the time, I thought she was being melodramatic, but no truer words were spoken this Christmas.
There's so much I don't know about him. I know he was the second oldest, with 6 sisters, and that he grew up on St. Antoine street when it was white, and that as a schoolboy he used to eat meals in the church because his parents couldn't afford lunches for the kids. I know that they added 12th grade to the cirriculum when he was in 11th grade and he dropped out because of it. I know that he joined the army when he was 17 in 1949. I know he was stationed in Paris, Belgium, Germany and Korea and retired from the Army without ever seeing combat. I know when people were being shipped in droves to Korea, they scheduled him for a second round in Paris. I know that when in Germany, he used to take leave one weekend a month and go into the moutains with my MawMaw and they'd drink their asses off and ski. I know that his mortgage payment was only $29/month when he got back home. I know that he arrived in New York, bought a car with cash and drove it home. He lived next door to his parents and when he was deployed overseas again, his parents would help MawMaw out with the kids. I know he strong-armed my MawMaw into having one last child, so my Uncle Butch could have a brother. I know that he drank. A lot. And that he felt a wife's duty was in the kitchen and home with the kids. I know he loved her very, very much and that he was devastated when she died. I know that he was afraid of being thrown overboard when he was travelling via boat to Europe and while on KP he used the wrong cleaning agent on the tabletops and caused them all to change from green to splotchy brown. I know that he is not close to his sisters, even though they live nearby, and he regrets only seeing them at funerals. I know he can't swim, nor could my MawMaw, but they had a pool in their backyard for years. I know he is a Republican. I know he is a Christian. I know that one snowy winter in Germany, they had snow so deep that he could barely drive his army vehicle through it, and he nearly froze with the windows all out. I know that once it snowed several feet in France, and he and those he worked with had to shovel the parking lot instead of play in it. I know that my Aunt was born in Paris, my Mom in Belgium, my Nanny in Mobile, AL, and my two uncles in Lafayette, LA. I know that my Mom's birth cost 10 cents, because of a phone call he made to let those know she arrived. I know that he installed most of the wiring, television, intercoms for Lourdes, Lafayette General, and Womens and Childrens (and probably any business you can name, he will claim, haha) and that he thinks my biological father is an idiot. I knew before my Nanny told me that when he was being examined by the doctor at Lourdes, that he mentioned that he has crawled up in the ceilings there at least once. I know that one of his coworkers and him went to the top floor of Lourdes, in their storage area, to run wire once and there were like 100 wasps nests and he refused to go back in there---I wonder if he is thinking of that while he is laying in bed, strapped to an IV and wondering when he'll die.
He doesn't know he's dying. My Nanny didn't tell him, and I don't blame her. She's going to let that be the Oncologist's job, if he doesn't already know--she broke the news to him yesterday that the tumors are inoperable, and when he asked what they were going to do, she only told him they were going to try chemo next. How do you tell your father that he's going to die, you know?
I think he'll be ok with it--he told me that he's escaped death many times, twice he could have been shipped into war and went to Paris and Germany instead. His wife has been gone for many years and he's lonely in his house alone. He's lived a long life, full of ups and downs. He is taking everything well so far, and while I'm sure he doesn't want to die, I don't think he's afraid to die. I don't particularly want him to die...obviously...but we all decided that we'll stand behind him. If he wants to fight, we'll fight with him. If he doesn't want to fight, we'll support his decision. Right now, he's going down swinging, and I am thankful for that, just as I am thankful for each and every moment left that I get to spend with him. There are a LOT of stories that I haven't heard before, and I plan on knowing more about this man than I know about myself before he goes. And maybe he'll live long enough to meet the last great-grandchild we'll produce for him, if my body will cooperate with me.