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Writing Weasels and Woe
Feb. 5th, 2008 10:07 amShawn reported last night that they'd finally talked to the doctors about the biospies they took from her dad's liver and lungs. He's got six months to live. When she told me that I felt like someone had punched me in the gut. I had no idea real, live doctors actually made prouncements like that. Six months? Dang.
I guess the kind of cancer he has is very agressive. It went from zero to where it is now (riddling his body) in eight months. There's really no treatment options, given the fragility of grandpa's body, his age, and, frankly, his temperment. He wants out of that place. Now. Unfortunately, he's still in ICU and will be there until he's strong enough to move back to the care facility he was between the first diagnosis and surgery. The plan is to get him home ASAP. But, seriously, grandpa really just wants to make an escape. Apparently, he was plotting with Shawn's brother to try to get Greg to "bring around the car." He can hardly walk, and he wants them to sneak him out of there.
Awesome. I mean, seriously, Shawn's dad is fiesty. You gotta love that. And, because of that, the family has conspired with the doctors not to tell grandpa about the six months deal. Right now, he's fighting. They're afraid if he heard that, he'd give up.
What I wish is that if doctors are going to give you six months, they could give you six, healthy, active months. That way you could do all that stuff you tell yourself you'd do if you only had six months to live, you know? Six months of laying in bed with failing health is, well, just mean. You should have six months to... dance.
It's funny how words fail you. All I could say to Shawn was, "Man, that sucks," like she didn't already know that. It's times like that when I wish I could teleport. She doesn't need my words. She needs hugs and a shoulder to cry on.
Rats.
So last night I wasn't able to write much. I was kind of anxious to hear more from Shawn -- they had an evening consultation with the doctor planned yesterday evening. I opened my computer, but I mostly just stared at the screen. Finally, I realized I was too distracted to write, so I popped in the DVDs of Torchwood's first season that![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
xochiquetzl sent me. I'm pretty hooked, and it was pleasantly distracted.
Shawn will be home tomorrow night. Tonight I have to juggle little boy, the babysitter, caucus, and class. Wish me luck.
I guess the kind of cancer he has is very agressive. It went from zero to where it is now (riddling his body) in eight months. There's really no treatment options, given the fragility of grandpa's body, his age, and, frankly, his temperment. He wants out of that place. Now. Unfortunately, he's still in ICU and will be there until he's strong enough to move back to the care facility he was between the first diagnosis and surgery. The plan is to get him home ASAP. But, seriously, grandpa really just wants to make an escape. Apparently, he was plotting with Shawn's brother to try to get Greg to "bring around the car." He can hardly walk, and he wants them to sneak him out of there.
Awesome. I mean, seriously, Shawn's dad is fiesty. You gotta love that. And, because of that, the family has conspired with the doctors not to tell grandpa about the six months deal. Right now, he's fighting. They're afraid if he heard that, he'd give up.
What I wish is that if doctors are going to give you six months, they could give you six, healthy, active months. That way you could do all that stuff you tell yourself you'd do if you only had six months to live, you know? Six months of laying in bed with failing health is, well, just mean. You should have six months to... dance.
It's funny how words fail you. All I could say to Shawn was, "Man, that sucks," like she didn't already know that. It's times like that when I wish I could teleport. She doesn't need my words. She needs hugs and a shoulder to cry on.
Rats.
So last night I wasn't able to write much. I was kind of anxious to hear more from Shawn -- they had an evening consultation with the doctor planned yesterday evening. I opened my computer, but I mostly just stared at the screen. Finally, I realized I was too distracted to write, so I popped in the DVDs of Torchwood's first season that
xochiquetzl sent me. I'm pretty hooked, and it was pleasantly distracted. Shawn will be home tomorrow night. Tonight I have to juggle little boy, the babysitter, caucus, and class. Wish me luck.