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Jul. 7th, 2005 09:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cabbitzillaYesterday's post created some confusion in at least one person, who sent me an amazingly touching email thinking that the cancer diagnosis was for me. I sat and cried for a while, thinking how much simpler this would be were it truly me... it's for my maternal grandmother, who was pretty much the only reason I managed to get out of high school without offing myself.
'A couple of weeks to a few months... it's really hard to tell when the cancer is as advanced as this...'
Such were the words of the oncologist.
I'm going to resume what's become my pattern... I'm going to go hide somewhere online and not think. And then I'll do jigsaw puzzles until I can't see, and then go cry myself to sleep. Leah's handling this much better than Mom and I, thankfully. And Mom herself has yet to actually see me crack; she and I are the betas in the family, both of us taking the support roles almost without thinking. She's supporting Grandma... I'm supporting Mom.
The 130 mile daily round trip to the hospital is eating fuel at a prodigious rate; each day burns a quarter tank of fuel, which is $10-$12 to replace at the pump. And that's AFTER I tweaked the fuel mix and injector settings to boost the mileage from 20/gallon to 23/gallon. Not a huge jump, but anything that helps blunt the edge is a good thing. Several folk have already stepped up and poured money into my PayPal account; every penny of it is going for unleaded for the truck and Sprite/Sierra Mist for me to keep us both rolling. I'm trying to set up another loan from Crys... and I haven't a clue why she puts up with the financial black hole I've become. I just know that I'm desperate; there's 1/8 tank of fuel left in the truck at the moment.
I'm canceling commitments right and left, paring my schedule down to mandatory doctor visits to leave room for the visits. There isn't much time left at all. With a final diagnosis in place, there's nothing to keep the more .... difficult... family members away, and Mom doesn't have the force of personality to keep them from swarming. I -have- to be there. I've got a horrible certainty that one of my uncles is going to roll in and take over like he attempted when Grandma broke her hip three years ago. His snarky comments (and unfair, untrue, and damned uncalled for) at Mom about the 'lack of quality of care' she offered my grandmother left her sobbing. I hauled him bodily out of the room and dragged him out to the parking lot, where I offered to feed him his intestines if he EVER did something like that again. The resulting faceoff ended with him backing down... but I know damned well that he'll do it again if I'm not there.
If he tries it, we'll be burying him -before- Grandma goes; my tolerance for bullshit is at an all time low, and I'll not permit a two-timing backstabbing snake shatter mom's composure.
*sigh* I'm babbling and quasi-ranting. I'll leave it intact, so that certain folk who've been vocal about my tendencies to clam up and say nothing at least will understand where I'm at. I'm going to go find something to occupy myself now.
'A couple of weeks to a few months... it's really hard to tell when the cancer is as advanced as this...'
Such were the words of the oncologist.
I'm going to resume what's become my pattern... I'm going to go hide somewhere online and not think. And then I'll do jigsaw puzzles until I can't see, and then go cry myself to sleep. Leah's handling this much better than Mom and I, thankfully. And Mom herself has yet to actually see me crack; she and I are the betas in the family, both of us taking the support roles almost without thinking. She's supporting Grandma... I'm supporting Mom.
The 130 mile daily round trip to the hospital is eating fuel at a prodigious rate; each day burns a quarter tank of fuel, which is $10-$12 to replace at the pump. And that's AFTER I tweaked the fuel mix and injector settings to boost the mileage from 20/gallon to 23/gallon. Not a huge jump, but anything that helps blunt the edge is a good thing. Several folk have already stepped up and poured money into my PayPal account; every penny of it is going for unleaded for the truck and Sprite/Sierra Mist for me to keep us both rolling. I'm trying to set up another loan from Crys... and I haven't a clue why she puts up with the financial black hole I've become. I just know that I'm desperate; there's 1/8 tank of fuel left in the truck at the moment.
I'm canceling commitments right and left, paring my schedule down to mandatory doctor visits to leave room for the visits. There isn't much time left at all. With a final diagnosis in place, there's nothing to keep the more .... difficult... family members away, and Mom doesn't have the force of personality to keep them from swarming. I -have- to be there. I've got a horrible certainty that one of my uncles is going to roll in and take over like he attempted when Grandma broke her hip three years ago. His snarky comments (and unfair, untrue, and damned uncalled for) at Mom about the 'lack of quality of care' she offered my grandmother left her sobbing. I hauled him bodily out of the room and dragged him out to the parking lot, where I offered to feed him his intestines if he EVER did something like that again. The resulting faceoff ended with him backing down... but I know damned well that he'll do it again if I'm not there.
If he tries it, we'll be burying him -before- Grandma goes; my tolerance for bullshit is at an all time low, and I'll not permit a two-timing backstabbing snake shatter mom's composure.
*sigh* I'm babbling and quasi-ranting. I'll leave it intact, so that certain folk who've been vocal about my tendencies to clam up and say nothing at least will understand where I'm at. I'm going to go find something to occupy myself now.
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Date: 2005-07-08 02:24 am (UTC)Keeping yourself occupied is probably the best thing. And, hey, think about the stress relief if the uncle does something deserving a beating.