Home Again, Home Again

I got back from the funeral in Memphis last night. It was great to see my family. My grandmother has the most hysterical sense of humor. We laughed for a large part of the weekend. It was definitely a Southern funeral, with more casseroles and congealed salads and desserts delivered by little old blue-haired ladies than you could count. It was great to see so many people turn out to support my grandma.

An interesting story... My grandfather, on the night before he went into the hospital, called my grandma into the bedroom from the kitchen and asked who was in the house. She replied that no one was there, as it was about 10:30 p.m. He seemed shaken, and insisted that he had seen someone in the house, but went back to sleep. In the middle of the night, he woke her up asking the same question: who was in the house? She again answered that no one was in the house -- she had checked that the doors were locked before she had gone to bed. The next morning when they woke up, before they decided to call the ambulance to take him to the hospital, he turned to my grandma and insisted that someone had been in the house the night before. In fact, he said, they had been in the bedroom. She was a little bit exasperated, and asked him what they had looked like. His response? There were two of them in bright white robes. How amazing. I'm certain that the visit from these angels made his passing much less frightening for him, and hopefully for my grandmother. Some people may think I'm crazy for believing it, but poo on them. My grandpa was a man of God, who quietly and humbly did God's will. So, I'm proud to say that my grandpa got a personal escort to heaven. Awesome.

Memphis-bound

My grandpa died Thursday morning. It was rather merciful: painless, quick, not entirely unexpected. So, I'm off to Memphis for the funeral. When I get home, I'll have one week to the day before I leave for a month to visit my pops and help him through the chemo rollercoaster. My cats aren't going to recognize me after the new year starts. Oh well. I'll feed them and they'll forgive me.

Which news would you like first -- the good or the bad?

Let's go with the good first. It's always nice to get good news. This morning the results came in regarding my dad's Philadelphia chromosome. Basically, a positive finding indicates that he's particularly resistant to the treatment for the leukemia and survival or cure rates are cut in half from an already low 30% 5-year survival rate. And it's negative! Thank God, some good news can be energizing. I had a ridiculous grin pasted on my face all day. I'm sure that people were confused as to why someone whose dad has just been diagnosed with cancer was so darn happy, but I think it's pretty awesome. I was telling some friends about it and likened it to the following: you get thrown into a coliseum with 70 bulls. You're told that there may be 15 more bulls added to the mix in a week, so get ready. Then, after the week has passed, you're let off the hook with only the original 70 bulls. Sounds like a lot of bulls, except when you compare it to 85 bulls. At least that's how I'm thinking of it.

After my incredibly productive, grin-worthy day, I made my way home to prep for a knit night I was hosting. Nothing big, but I needed to sweep and clean the bathroom. I also made a delicious vegan pumpkin pie. First one I've ever tried. Pretty yummy. And it was good that I had some baked goods on hand because, lest we forget, there was still bad news to be had.

So, my pals and I were sitting in my squishy new furniture, knitting, listening to some Yo La Tengo, just relaxing. I was sitting there thinking how lucky I am, and just kind of soaking in my blessings. When the phone rings. It's my dad. I went in my room to take the call, and it turns out that my grandfather is in the hospital in Memphis with pneumonia and sepsis and is on a respirator and sedatives. And he's not expected to make it through the week, maybe not even through the night.

What the hell? Can't a family get a break? I mean, I'm so grateful for what I have. And I don't mean just material goods, but my relationships with friends and family are amazing. I just know the most incredible people. But, really, is this fair? Sure, he's 85 or 86, and he's been sick on and off for quite a while, but couldn't it all have gone down either before my dad got sick or after he got well enough to fly so he could at least make it to the funeral? And my grandma is just going to be heartbroken. As are their daughters. This is all so much for them to go through.

But, silver lining: pie was at the ready. And I had a room full of friends to walk back into, and 2 wonderful cats to curl up with later. So, I'm thankful.

Leukemia: It's ALL in the Family

So, I found out on Tuesday, November 28, 2006, that my dad has acute leukocytic leukemia (ALL). And I figured, "Why not take up some more internet space with another woe is me story?" Or in this case, woe is my dad. So, the birth of this not-so-creatively named blog. Hopefully, someone else who needs info about this can find this and get what they need. I found great info by googling the M D Anderson Hospital site, as well as the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. There's a great free website service for families called CaringBridge that allows you to post info about your loved one and have others sign a guestbook to make communication easier. You can also post photos on it. More about me and my family later. For now, I'm praying for my dad. A lot.