The grand kids are coming over today. I try to keep a stiff upper lip because one of them has terminal cancer. Terminal, as in it is going to kill her. We are hoping that she has some quality time left. I’m not railing against the unseen enemy anymore. I just live in a condition of low grade depression. Why does God take the good ones?
We have been going down this path for five years. Our granddaughter has lived beyond her expiration date, which says a lot about the will to live. I am supposed to be thankful for this fact, but I am just plain mad. Trust me, a cancer diagnosis affects everyone in the family.
They have stopped all treatment because it didn’t help. It made my granddaughter violently ill, retching from dawn to dawn. This is not living. Now they are concentrating on comfort care, which means that eventually they will dope her up so much that she leaves this life painlessly.
So today we will laugh and pretend that everything is okay. We do this every week and will until the end.