It's December 31st. It's 10:28 PM. The roads are filled with ice, snow, and drunk drivers. Web sites and TV shows are filled with Top Ten lists. Will and I just finished killing 2087 zombies in the game "Left 4 Dead 2". The ABC coverage of New Year's at Times Square is filled with a bunch of gag-inducing, masses-pandering, self-fellatio garbage. Sheesh!
As has been the case over the last few days regarding Granny, news only got worse. The radiologist took a better look at her scans and her body is riddled with cancer. It's made its way well past where we initially thought. And the spot on her lungs is many spots. At this point there is no treating it. She is going to have surgery on Saturday to install a colostomy bag. Hopefully she has the strength to make it. At this point we aren't assuming anything.
If she does, and once she is back on her feet, she is heading back home to mom and dad's. They are going to try and get a hospital bed in her room so she can live what time she has in the comfort of her own room. The doctor said that it won't be surprised if she doesn't get out of bed again. He also said that he doesn't have a crystal ball and says that she could last days, weeks, or months.
As for me, I'm doing okay... seriously, I'm okay. I mean, of course, I'm upset. But Granny's health was slowly going downhill. And recently things just nose-dived (nose-dove?). So while I was holding out hope for better news I am not really shocked by any of this. I've lost focus at work a few times and I'm not sleeping too well. The wife and kids see the stress on my face. But deep inside, I know things like this happen. My hope is that she gets to come home and enjoy a little time there before it all ends. I'd like to sit down with her and watch "The Guns of Navarone" or "The Bridge on the River Kwai" one more time.
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