I went to visit my parents for a few days. It was sort of spur of the moment, I hadn't planned to, but Dad has been really sick and Mom has been worried so I figured maybe the distraction of having me around would cheer them up.
I'm pretty sure I've written about Dad before. I won't go into all the details, but for anyone who doesn't feel like searching the archives: Dad had a stroke. And a few months after the stroke, he got cancer. The cancer they found early, so surgery mostly took care of it. His body would not have survived chemo/radiation/most cancer drugs, so the doctors told my mom that he would have to be checked every five months or so, to make sure it didn't come back. It has, in the form of small polyps, which are then removed during the visit, so they don't spread.
He had always been healthy. Even before the whole work out craze, he was always doing some sort of workout - running, weights, etc - and he was always pulling both me and my brother into it. Which we weren't too happy about at the time. He didn't do as much as he got older, but he stayed active. Good thing - when he had the stroke, it was pretty bad. (yes, all strokes are bad, but this one he almost didn't recover from) He went into arrest right after he got to the ER... the doctor told my Mom if he hadn't been so healthy, so strong, he would have died then. But then Dad always was a stubborn old man. When they told him he would never walk again, he set out to prove them wrong. (He refused to use a cane or walker - like I said, stubborn old man...)
So I was thinking about me last night. What's in store for me? There's quite a list, on both sides of my family...
On Dad's side - we have cancer (my Dad, his mom) and heart disease (his Dad) and stroke (Dad, his older brother, his older sister, and her daughter - my cousin, who is less than ten years older than me)... Dad's brother and sister didn't do as well as he did - they sort of gave up and wasted away. As a result, he often refused to see them - they were pessimists and would often tell him that he would someday end up like them - bitter old shells. The cousin is an idiot - she was a heavy smoker before the stroke, and has started smoking again.
On Mom's side - we have cancer and a history of gyn problems (ovarian cancer, fibroids, etc - my gandmother, my mother, her sister, and her daughter... my aunt also had a brain tumor, which was inoperable), diabetes (my Mom and her brother - he didn't take care of himself so he developed retinopathy and is now legally blind), my grandfather had asthma which developed into emphysema - it was a long slow painful death, which is something I may have to look forward to...
That's just the short list. And I didn't even touch on the history of mental issues (bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, personality disorders, OCD, chronic depression, anxiety disorders... there's a fair amount of madness...)
And then there's the one I left out. As far as I know, there has been only one person in our family who has had this terrible disease. I am hoping and praying that she was an anomaly - that it just happened, that it had nothing to do with genetics and that no one else has to suffer through *that*.
It's so bad that I would gladly take two or three of the above mentioned... cancer, sure, why not! Stroke? Well, okay... maybe it won't be so bad, maybe I'll still be able to read, or at least keep up with my hobbies and interests. And really - do I honestly *need* a uterus? It's not like I'm planning on using it anyway... And I already have asthma and a host of allergy-related problems (which are getting *worse*) and I've got the OCD and ADHD covered.
My grandmother (my mother's mother) had Alzheimers. It's a cruel disease. It robs you in a way no other disease does - of your life, your family, your memories, your self, your dignity. You become a shell, something that used to be you, as the disease slowly eats away, piece by piece. You forget. Everything. And one day, your body forgets how to function, and you forget how to breathe, and you... just... stop.
She was spared that end. She developed stomach cancer, and died within months. Everyone said it was a blessing. Because she was already fading, changing, forgetting.
When I was a little girl, I used to brush her hair. I think it was her way of keeping me occupied and quiet while she watched her "stories" but she also enjoyed having her hair played with. So she would hand me her brush, and I would stand behind her chair and brush, brush, brush, running my hands through her thick jet black hair. And carefully pull out the greys.
The very last time I saw her, I brushed her hair. It was not as thick, and no longer black, but all grey. She was so small, she felt... fragile. The cancer and Alzheimers had eaten most of her away. Her skin felt soft, and you had to be so careful, anything more than a light touch would bruise her or break the skin. I stood behind her, this time so much taller, and I wondered, as I brushed, if she could remember that I used to do this so very many years ago. And I knew that this was the very last time I would see her alive, because I was going back to California the next day. And I kept telling myself not to cry, because she wouldn't understand, and I didn't want to upset her. So I brushed and brushed, and she relaxed, I could feel it, and I'm hoping that it took her mind off the pain, if just for a little while. (she knew she was in pain, but didn't really know why - she kept forgetting she had cancer)
She died three weeks later.
My prayer, since then, has been simple. Please, God - not my Mom, not my brother, not me.
Selfish, yes. But unless you've seen it, you couldn't understand.
I can be brave, if I need to be. I don't like pain, but I don't fear it. (and yeah, I've had a few excruciatingly painful experiences - one of which I actually wrote about...) And I never feared sickness - up until a few years ago I had always been ridiculously healthy.
But lately... well, things haven't been so good. I'm still not afraid - just concerned.
But that... that disease... truly scares me. And there's absolutely nothing I can do about it.
Which, for someone with control issues, is probably the most frightening thing of all.
