Cancer...

Yes, I said it. Cancer, there I said it again. The c-word, the big c, the hush, the whisper, the unmentionable, the "you're not suppose to say cancer in a song", the taboo. Yet today, we talk about it more than only a generation ago. It's come out in the open, we can talk about it more now, but it makes me wonder...if we hadn't spent so much time hiding it, not talking about it and being scared of it, would we be closer to a cure? Would more research have been done? Or would we still be at the same place as today.

At some point in your life, cancer is going to effect each and every person on this plant. It may not be you yourself that has to deal with it, but it will be someone you love, and so you will be forced to confront it head on and deal with it. It might be your parents, your siblings, your in-laws, your cousin, your aunt or uncle, your grandparents, or heaven forbid your child.

In September of 2009, in fact the day after Labor Day, a Tuesday, the sun was out as bright as could be that day. I took my Grandfather to the hospital for some test results. That was the day we were told that he had lymphoma. I remember sitting there in shock, then asking the questions, what did this mean. The doctor told me, in broken English, that lymphoma was a slow-growing, non-aggressive cancer and that he could live for many years with no problems, in fact this would not effect his longevity. Relief washed over me, and we scheduled some follow-up appointments and to read the results with the doctor on September 30th.

As the weeks went on my grandfather, who had been mobile and active stopped eating, but gained a tremendous amount of weight, in fact going up more than 3 sizes in the waist, becoming wheelchair bound and having trouble with his bodily functions. I started looking online, and ever resource I found told me the opposite of the doctor, that lymphoma was fast-growing and very aggressive. I kept thinking there was no way he could be going downhill this fast, and it must be something else.

I arrived at his house Tuesday night, he lived an hour drive from me, and being floored by how bad he looked. Early Wednesday morning I got up to take him to the hospital, only three blocks away for the follow-up with the doctor. My grandmother, my mom's mom showed up at the house and offered to come with me, and I will always remember that as a gift from God. My grandfather was my dad's dad, and so there was no blood connection between these two grandparents, in fact their children had divorced and each remarried long ago, but yet they continued to be friendly and concerned about each other. As I struggled to get him into the car, I was glad to have her there to joke with me and keep it light.

We met with the doctor, and he didn't seem concerned about the drastic physical changes that had occurred but offered my grandfather the choice to do this one chemo treatment, which he said yes to and they would do it that very day, in fact it ended up starting less than half an hour later. That was the last I saw of that doctor. Never once during the chemo did he check up on my grandfather. The nurses on the other hand were angles sent by God. They allowed grandma and I to sit beside him all day, they helped me help him to the bathroom every time he had to go, they talked with me and were just concerned for me. The treatment ended up taking all day, and it was almost 6pm when we were ready to leave there. Grandpa seemed even weaker than when we had come in that morning. About 4pm, the nurses decided that they were very concerned about how weak he was and me taking him home, so they start petitioning the doctor to admit him for the night. The doctor refused, finally the nurses told me to take Grandpa straight to the ER when we left there and ask them to admit him for the night, they were afraid I couldn't handle him at home alone that night. I called my husband and he urged me to listen to the nurses, and my grandma agreed and even as strange as it felt to walk from one part of the hospital to the other I did it.

The ER took one look at Grandpa and rushed him back before I could even finish telling them what had occurred that day. They were great. They took good care of him and settled me down and got him admitted. Once they got him up to a room, he seemed to look and feel alot better. They finally talked me into going home, and so I went back to grandpa's and talked to my husband. By the time I got off the phone the hospital was calling asking me to come back. They had moved Grandpa into ICU for one-on-one nursing care and he was asking for family. I drove the mere three blocks, got upstairs and they were already trying to resuscitate him. when the ICU doctor talked to us, he explained that lymphoma was a very aggressive cancer and that he had seen people go in a week, we were lucky to get the month with Grandpa. He passed before midnight that night.

I look back and have many regrets. Regret that I didn't force him to get a second opinion on the lymphoma, regret that I didn't spend more time that month with him, that I didn't see this coming, so much. It is a huge wound that over the years has finally scab over, but things happen in life that rip the scab off and allow it to bleed anew. But I refuse to bury it inside and and not talk about it, to say that it was his heart or something else, no it was lymphoma and I didn't know enough about it, still don't.

How do I heal now? I talk about it. I refuse to let it be the thing you can't talk about. I research lymphoma and learn more about it, I support research and I keep him alive by not letting him go without a fight, by supporting research and the race for a cure. If you haven't had someone in your life fight cancer yet, you will...how will you respond to the fight? Will you keep it silent or will you fight?