Good Days, Bad Days

Today was the final day of the chemo cycle #2. Well, mom has to have "the devil shot" tomorrow. But we will just walk in, get it, and walk out. The Neulasta shot, if I understand correctly, encourages the bones to create more white blood cells. I don't really know alot of medical or drug facts. All I know is that mom named it "the devil shot" for a reason. After taking it her first (and only) time, she experienced excruciating aches in her bones throughout her body. Her legs and back seem to be targeted more than any other area. Last time, it lasted a few days. She found herself on the floor trying to arch her back (reminiscent of a cat) just to find a little relief. How can something so painful be good for you ? BAD DAYS.


Tomorrow would be pretty cut and dry, but we have yet another tragedy in our family. Through these posts, I have failed to really talk about an important man in my life, my grandfather. He is my mom's dad. The week before my mom was diagnosed, my grandfather fell victim to a stroke that left him mentally and physically unable to care for himself. 3 hospitals and many tests later, they have concluded that there is nothing more they can do for him except keep him comfortable. Tomorrow, after "the devil shot" we are going to see him.

A weekly outing for my mom and I (for several years now) was to drive to Taylorsville and spend some time with my Papaw. This tradition remained in tact and actually strengthened when my children came along. It was such a fun day. We picked mom up after nap time and headed out. We would stop to get us a drink because he usually only had flat sprite on hand (yuck!). When we arrived at his house, (weather permitting) he and mom would sit on the porch while the girls and I played in the yard. GOOD DAYS. It sounds so simple. But this is another example of a norm in our life that has ended. Oh, how he worships my girls. It is a wonderful thing to see a great grandparent bond with your children. The girls warmly refer to him as "Papaw The Great". He keeps his freezer stocked full of ice cream and popsicles and yummy snacks. He almost seems to count down the days until our next visit. Looking back, once a week seems not enough. Though he is still with us, I miss him so much. Our last conversation was about a month ago. He is a typical old guy. He talks about the weather and tells me the same story 2-3 times in one conversation. But there is something I have always found so comforting in talking to him. Though there is always that part of you with high hopes, I fear that I have had my last conversation with him.

There has been an eerie calmness about my mom recently. I mean, she still has crying days (just about everyday) but considering the bad news bombs that have been dropped on her all at once, she is handling it all so beautifully. She harbors guilt because she is unable to help her siblings as they have been making decisions and sharing the responsibilities regarding Papaw's care. She has still somehow, through the discomfort of her illness and medicine, found a way to see him several times a week. If she wasn't sick, I can assure you she would have taken up residence at those hospitals right beside him.

 The strength of this woman physically and emotionally never ceases to amaze me. Perhaps it is her willingness to accept the good days with the bad days. Perhaps, one cant exist without the other.