Day 18

Text: (from me to a friend)

Thanks. Not seeing much improvement… But a little. Supposed to go to rehab tomorrow, but I’m doubtful he’s strong enough for that yet. He says he’s just ready to go to heaven. We’re not ready for that yet!

…..[Haven’t gotten] the complete [pathology] report yet, they sent it to Johns Hopkins to find out the type of spindle cells to determine specific treatment. They did tell us it’s Anaplastic astrocytoma, stage 3 or 4 [we’d later learn brain cancer doesn’t have stages, but rather grades, with Papa’s being grade 3]. Not the worst type of brain cancer, but not the best. Reading up on it didn’t offer much encouragement. Just tough to see him suffer presently & then have future diagnosis not so great either. Trying to be grateful for the “now” with him… It’s just tough… You know how it goes.

My Reflections:

J & I take the boys to visit Papa & Nana in the hospital. Nana watches Little M in the lobby while the big boys come along with J & me to Papa’s room.

I forget the contrast in Papa since the last time J saw him right after surgery. Papa isn’t doing well today, and the boys look on, a bit wide-eyed, as Papa moans and groans uncomfortably, desperately calling out, “Oh my God!, Oh my God!” This isn’t a phrase Papa normally says, and not one we use in our house either. The boys know this and are most likely shocked to hear Papa throw around God’s name like this. I don’t believe Papa’s throwing around God’s name casually though, but more likely crying out to Him in his current state of misery. It’s been rough for me to see Papa so miserable, but today is especially hard and J and I regret bringing the boys along – they shouldn’t have to see their Papa like this.

J and the boys soon join Nana & Little M in the lobby while I stay a bit longer with Papa. While I’m still there, neighbors of Nana & Papa’s come to visit…. while Papa is still moaning and groaning in his bed. This is the first time I’ve ever met this sweet, reserved couple. And they’ve been so nice to stop by to see Papa. We sit there by Papa’s bed and exchange pleasantries, but the scene is altogether awkward, to say the least. Papa would usually be the one making the introductions, asking the questions, and helping us strangers feel more at ease, but he’s obviously in no frame of mind for that today. So there we sit, with long pauses between the small talk (of I-have-no-clue-about-what), kind of just looking at one another uncomfortably as Papa continues to call out “Oh my God!, Oh my God!”

So it is with more than a bit of welcome relief, when Nana returns to the room and I can say my goodbyes. And J, the boys, and I are soon on our way back home (HOME!) once again.

As soon as we pull up in front of our house, I tell J I need to trim some bushes. He doesn’t argue. Perhaps he gets it. I need to chop at something. Do SOMETHING. My sights are set on some hedges that have grown quite tall under our front window. And I set to work.

An hour or two later my “trimming” is complete.

Right down to the ground: