Life and Death

My grandma is probably the stereotypical sweet little grandmother. She is barely 5 foot tall and walks hunched over and crooked on her walker or with a cane. Before her health started ailing, she was the grandma who made you cookies every year for your birthday and gave you $1 for Christmas (no matter how old you were). She wrote birthday and Christmas cards to everyone and would go into detail about what she ate that day and how much money she spent on gas or lunch or a loaf of bread. She’ll go on for a long time telling you about your great uncle’s niece husband who has a dog on a farm in Wisconsin- someone you’ve never met and, therefore, have no idea what she’s talking about. She’s completely naïve, and I admit that we’ve had our fair share of fun convincing her of untrue things or getting her to say or do weird things because she has no idea what it means. This includes saying, “WAAAZUUUP!” like the old popular commercials and wearing a beanie off to the side while throwing out her fingers like a gangster.


Furthermore, she’s been known to be convinced that windows in the car are closed despite them clearly being open and that there are deer flying in the sky (even though it was not specified as “reindeer” nor was it anywhere near Christmas-time). She’s a quiet and peaceful woman, known for not being affected by the big ordeals, but allowing the tiniest of worries to keep her up all night. But the big trials are starting to sneak up on her.

I received a call from my mom last night that my grandma is in the hospital AGAIN. This is probably the third or fourth time in an even fewer number of weeks.

(Disclaimer: The following information may not be 100% exact as far as the number of units of blood or the perfect timeline of how things happened. I just went according to the best of my memory.)

You see, my grandma began battling breast cancer around 5 years ago, just before her 80th birthday (if I remember right). Her breast cancer finally went into remission after chemotherapy and a mastectomy. As far as cancer goes, she’s had is fairly easily. By that, I mean that she hasn’t experienced much of the sickness that usually goes with such an awful ailment and treatment process. I’ll never forget one particular day, though, that it hit her really hard. It was Father’s Day and we were headed over to my grandpa’s house to spend time with the whole family. My grandma was very excited that all 6 of her kids (her pride and joy) were going to be there together at this one event. But, just after church, the sickness hit her and she realized that she should go home instead, forfeiting the whole event. As my mom drove her home, the nausea got the best of my grandma and she got sick in the car. As my mom helped her out, she said, “It’s times like this that it’s not so fun, huh?” My grandma’s response was, “Yeah, but if it weren’t for the times like this, I wouldn’t know how good the good times really are.” The remarkable positive attitude in such an unpleasant situation is what stands out the most in my mind. That in the midst of cancer, undergoing chemo and radiation, losing your hair and your strength, and throwing up all over yourself, you could say that it was worth it because it helped you to treasure the good things in your life even more.

Well, the breast cancer went into remission some time later, but when my grandma became anemic, it was discovered that the cancer had come back in her bone marrow. This has been ongoing for the past 3-4 years or so. She’s continued multiple forms of chemo, each working enough to keep the cancer count down, but not enough to get rid of it. Therefore, each time the treatments ended, the counts began to rise.

And, just when the numbers seemed to be low enough for remission again, it was discovered that the cancer has now spread to her bones. Bone cancer is supposed to be extremely painful, but my grandma has never expressed any discomfort. Instead, though, the cancer in her bones and marrow is causing her body to not produce blood like it is supposed to. She has been struggling to get from one room of the house to another and will oftentimes collapse on the floor, huffing and puffing and sweating. During some of these times, her speech has seemed incoherent or she seems non-responsive. So, in these episodes, my uncle has called the ambulance to come pick her up and take her to the hospital. The first time (in the recent weeks) that this occurred, the doctor said that her blood count was only a 5. A normal number would be between 12-15 and they would do a blood transfusion for anything under 9. He said that a 5 would cause him to be passed out on the floor so he was surprised that she was even functioning. She had to have 4 units of blood in a transfusion before she could be sent home. Then just a week ago, she had to have another 4 units put in. And then last night my mom called me and said that they took her to the hospital again that day. Her heart rate was elevated and her kidneys were not functioning properly. But then they determined that this was because of her low blood count, now only 7. So she would need another 4 units of blood. Four units is a lot by any means and it’s shocking that her blood count is so low when she just had a transfusion a week ago. This means that her body is REALLY not producing blood like it’s supposed to.

So, as I was talking to my mom last night, she said that my aunt brought up the idea that my grandma discontinues her chemotherapy. I think that most people would agree that the quality of life that it is giving her isn’t worth it. Are all of the chemo treatments and blood transfusions and fatigue and hospital stays worth it if she’s not even able to function properly or attend family events or church or anything? But no one knows how much it is holding off her death. If she discontinued chemo and just had blood transfusions, would it be enough to give her a good quality of life while she’s still here? Would it cause her to die suddenly? Or would it still be a slow progression?

And the truth is that my grandma is not ready to die. When my mom got to the hospital, she was telling my grandma that she needed to calm down and relax. My grandma said, “I don’t want to die.” My mom just responded, “You’re not going to die one single minute before it’s your time. And you’ll be ready to go when God’s ready to take you.” It’s not that she’s fearful of death, I don’t think. Instead, I think she just isn’t ready to miss out on everything here. And, while everyone agrees that she’s lived a long and full life, and even agrees that she would have a brand new healthy body in Heaven, I think losing her will hit my family REALLY hard. She’s always been the strong matriarchal figure of the family, not in her will power, but in her steadfast love and peace. She’s always been there, and everyone has a mutual love and respect for her. So, losing her, I think, would make it feel like there’s a piece missing to our ever-growing puzzle.

On top of this, my grandpa recently discovered that he has a tumor behind his eye. At this point, there isn’t much known about its severity, but it’s one more physical ailment on top of the many heart problems (including heart attacks and pacemakers) that he has already had. In fact, his previous health conditions make him a bad candidate for surgery so they are discussing a gamma knife procedure instead.

As my mom and aunts were talking, they realized that it is a very real possibility that they may lose both of their parents in the same year. It’s kind of overwhelming to face this possibility, but the reality of it hits closer and closer each time my grandma faces the hospital again. My mom was feeling pretty strongly that my grandma won’t make it past 6 more months. My aunt felt more certainly that she wouldn’t even live past the end of February. If either of these is true, time is closing in quickly.

When I discovered that I am pregnant, I felt certain that my grandma won’t be around to see my baby be born, but I was glad that she got to see God answer my prayer. It’ll probably be the last great-grandchild she ever knows of. And, I had the idea Sunday that if she is still alive, I want her to be in the room when I give birth. The neat thing behind this is that she was obviously there for her own birth and the births of all 6 of her children. But of all 21 of her grandchildren, I am the only one that she saw be born. And she has never seen any of her 30 great-grandchildren be born. So, my child would be the only great-grandchild whose birth she’s witnessed and it’d be 4 generations of births in a row. I still don’t think she’ll make it that far, but if she does, I want to give her the opportunity to be there.

I find myself at a loss about how to feel about her impending death, though. I have been fortunate enough to have NEVER lost anyone that close to me. All of the people I know who have died have been more distant from me, either someone I never knew very well or people who I haven’t been in touch with in many years. But realizing that I may lose my grandma really soon has started to hit me harder. Just after Thanksgiving, my brother shared in our small Sunday evening group that he was thankful for my grandma being there that holiday. As he choked up, fighting back the tears, he added that he didn’t know if she’d be there the next Thanksgiving. I just started weeping. I think it was the first time I realized that notion and it hit me harder seeing how my brother was so affected by it; for he’s a guy who rarely expresses such emotions. And when my mom called me last night, I absorbed in all of the information easily, but when I relayed it back to Jesse, I couldn’t make it through the words without breaking down in tears.

I think that it makes it a bit easier for all of us knowing that at the same time we might lose someone very dear to us, we are also going to be able to celebrate a new life in our family. It’s bittersweet on both ends, but we trust in God’s timing of it all, knowing that He destined the number of days for both long before the world even began.

So, I ask for prayers over my family, although not necessarily for the healing of my grandma. I don’t expect her to be around forever. But I pray for God’s peace throughout the entire situation and for the wisdom to know which direction to proceed in treatment, when to stop treatment, and also how to make arrangements for after her death.