Nana’s Notes:

Need to be trained to flush PEG tube – that has to stay in 8-12 weeks.

Papa ate lunch with speech therapist for observation.

Community outing after lunch.

 

My Reflections:

Today I’ve got a GNO (Girls’ Night Out).

With the DPSG (I’ll translate that one later).

Before I go on though, a little DPSG history is in order:

A number of years ago, J’s mom passed away suddenly.  It was a rough time for him, for his family, and for me.  I learned a lot about grief.  Most importantly, I learned that grief really sucks.

Then three years ago, I’m in a women’s Bible study small group, and one of the girls in my group loses her mom.

I haven’t lost a mom, but I know grief sucks, and I ask this friend out for a cup of coffee or similar.  And we get together a few times and find it encouraging to share our grief struggles and just plain life stuff in the midst of it.

And then the next year, the two of us are together in another women’s Bible study small group, and a girl in that group loses her father.  So the friend who lost her mom, and I who’ve lost my mother-in-law, invite the friend who’s lost her dad to join us for a cup of coffee or margarita or similar.

And the DPSG is born.

DPSG?…..

Dead Parent Support Group

A bit morbid sounding, yes, but coined from our friend who lost her mom, who’s got an endearing sense of humor and dry wit about her; no need to sugar-coat this dead parent business.  And we do indeed need all the support we can get.

To be honest though, I always felt a bit like an un-official member of this little group, a bit of a fraud.  After all, as dear as she was to me and as close as I felt to her, I lost an in-law, not an actual parent.  But these friends (who become dearer with each random, completely-informal, grief-wading-through night out) certainly don’t make me feel any less of a full-fledged member because of it.

And that brings us back to tonight,  at our usual spot, over chips and guac and margaritas to talk grief and life and such.

But this time it’s different.

This time I’m talking about my dad.  My parent.  And terminal brain cancer.  And pretty grim treatment options.

This time I’m not the one offering up support.  I’m the one being supported.  Cause these two friends sitting here with me have both been through this cancer thing with the parents they’ve lost.  And I haven’t.

And it all seems so crazy, topsy-turvy, this turn of events.

And I’d be fine with just maintaining my un-official member status, please.  Maintain my role of supporter, rather than supportee.

Cause isn’t it always easier to be the one in the supporter role?

I can’t help but wonder, though, how soon I’ll be becoming a full-fledged member of this DPSG.

Not really a group anyone’s rallying to get into though.  Not a membership anyone would willingly have bestowed upon themselves.

But a group that I appreciate being a part of, all the same, whether it be un-officially or officially, due to the support of these two dear friends in this season, in a moment such as this.