It's official. My grandmother has level 3 pancreatic cancer. She's too far along for any kind of surgery to remove the tumor, so she's going to start chemotherapy next week. I guess it's a gentler form of chemo since it's more to decrease the size of the tumor than to completely get rid of it. A quality of life issue. The doctors have also prescribed morphine for my grandma to lessen the pain which, in turn, should make it easier for her to eat.
I feel oddly calm about the whole situation. I guess after going through the whole she-has-it-or-does-she? routine for the past two months you get used to the idea that time is limited and precious. At least we were able to celebrate what might be our last Christmas with her. I'm hoping she can make it to her 77th birthday in March now. Mostly because it would be another "Take that!" to the history in her family of people dying before age 70.
Last week, my mom mentioned that if my grandma was strong enough that my parents wanted to take her on a trip to New England this summer since she really likes that area. I said that Matt and I would definitely come and that we should rent a mini-van, so that we could all be together for the trip. It's truly optimistic, but something to shoot for hopefully.
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3 comments:
been thinking about you....*hugs*
~Maurice writes:
"I feel oddly calm about the whole situation." I understand exactly what you mean by that, having just lost my father who was about a year older than your grandmother. I distinctly remember the day we were told that it was a "quality of life" issue from there onwards. Profound sadness and calm resignation, combined with some hope that the odds would be defined, characterized my family's feelings.
I'm terribly sorry, but keep celebrating your grandmother's spunky and "life of the party" nature. My thoughts are with you.
J --
So sorry to hear this news... I'll light a candle for you and your family.
-- skbi
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