The chair Unc made for Boo's second Christmas.
I got a phone call earlier this month from one of my cousins. I briefly thought about sending it to voice mail because it was during the work day and I was busy with other things and really didn't have time to chat. It's unusual that she calls, so I picked up. She called to tell me her dad had been diagnosed with bladder cancer. I felt hot. I had a lump in my throat. This is my daddy's big brother. This is the man confused my kids (and my cousins') because he and my daddy looked so much alike. This is the man who can make me smile with his smile and make me cry with his hugs. It couldn't be. They hadn't gotten a full prognosis, but she would call me with it as soon as they knew . . . and don't tell Maama.
They scheduled his surgery for November 16. He wouldn't be deer hunting with my brothers this year, something he has taken to doing since my dad died. I waited all last Tuesday for word that the surgery went well and the cancer was gone. When my cousin called around 3 I answered the phone by saying "tell me the good news." The good news was that the surgery was over and they'd gotten all of the tumor from his bladder. They'd also had to take part of the prostate because it had spread. They would know more in three to five days when labs came back, but he was in recovery and coming home Wednesday.
Then came the call yesterday afternoon. The cancer wasn't bladder cancer, it was prostate cancer. And on a scale of one to ten, my uncle's cancer is a nine. The doctors did a bone scan to see if it had spread elsewhere. We'll know the results of that test on Wednesday this week. Unc's going to have to have surgery again. And he's telling Maama. I cried, she cried. She asked me how I lived without my daddy. You see, these two brothers were two peas in a pod. I had the best dad in the world and so does she. They both placed their daughters on pedestals and taught us how to be strong women because we knew they would always be holding us up, giving us what we needed to be successful. And now these two brothers have both been stricken by cancer.
"It's not fair!" she cried to me. I could do nothing but agree. "I don't know how to live without him." The memories and pain came rushing back to me because I still am not sure how I live without my dad. One breath, one moment, one day at a time was all I could say to her. I told her that you use the strength he's given you and you live the life that he made you capable of living and that by doing that, you're never without him.
The other piece to this story is telling Maama. Maama is my grandma, our matriarch, my hero. She is an amazing 93 woman who raised three great children, seven grandchildren, and eight great grandchildren. She lost the love of her life to Alzheimer's nine years ago. She lost her youngest son to cancer four years ago. She takes care of her youngest sister who's health is failing. She still lives on her own and thanks God for the gifts he's given her in spite of her hardships. Job had nothing on my Maama. This news however, may prove to be overwhelming. I am an optimist, but also a realist. I know how vicious cancer is and I've seen the savageness of chemotherapy. I know the toll it took on Maama seeing my dad fight, struggle and suffer. I can't imagine watching your child die and being able to do nothing. And now to see her oldest son wage a similar war. It's more than one person should have to take.
For now we pray, we hope and we cherish our moments together.
No comments:
Post a Comment