My grandfather finally got the results of the needle biopsy back yesterday: lung cancer. And yesterday finally got the tumors on his elbow/arm biopsied: metastasized lung cancer. He'd had x-rays, sono, all kinds of stuff, and had been told those additional tumors were just hematomas from sitting in his chair. I don't think so--his elbow had been double its normal size, and he doesn't sit that still. I think we've all known where this was headed when he started coughing up blood and had a spot on his lung. He's already developed a new spot on his head.
So he's been told he has about two months to live. He's been told he will have to move into a nursing home because of the care required, but none of us, not one, want that to happen and are trying to find out more information about getting hospice care at home. A lot can be done by all of us in shifts, though we can't administer IV medication when that time comes and stronger family members will have to help with restroom needs.
I don't like any of this and am in a probably immature "why do people have to die?" frame of mind. My dad disowned me when I was in college; he was so violent that I had to call the police and was afraid he would kill me. My grandparents acted as my parents for many years, and I feel very close to them. They gave me a lot of support, came to visit me in college and graduate school, gave me a lot of encouragement, invited me over for to visit them during the holidays when my own parents wouldn't, celebrated my birthday when no one else did, welcomed my daughter--on my grandmother's birthday, no less. I don't know what else to say except I am not sure how I would have continued living at times without their support.
I'm trying to shore up for what's to come. And realizing that I've got to keep things as normal as possible while balancing that with not shielding my children or making them afraid. My son has 2 grades that are 89's on his progress report, but I think that would have been higher without all the shuttling around after school and me being gone some in the evenings or weekends. This is quite a different problem from first grade, where he was failing classes. I had been tutoring him in math, and his average is now a 99 there. He's picked up violin this year too at school but it's hard to get him to practice when something is unfamiliar. At first the positioning and plucking were difficult but he practiced readily once he got that down; now he's working with the bow rather than just plucking. I think he's such a perfectionist he doesn't like mistake after mistake as he learns. It is neat to see him master this, though, getting better after 15 minutes of trying.
I am feeling sick at my stomach about the job issue. The interviews did not pan out, though it really looked like one would. He was told they would call back for one more interview, and that one had gone well--but they never did. Now there are very few jobs for him to apply to, though there was a wave of them about six to eight weeks ago.
I hope everything improves soon.