Which, in case you're not familiar, is one of the most painful types of cancer that exists. And like the over-achiever that she is, Oma has it in two places: her hip and her back.
She will be 80 years old in July and has decided to go the route of pain management as opposed to radiation or chemotherapy. There is also an incredibly invasive biopsy that she could undergo in order to find out the exact name of this thing that is eating away at her body. But (and I don't blame her) she's not interested in knowing the specifics.
"I have cancer and that's all I need to know," she says. "I'm not 36 anymore."
Allow me to put this in context.
Oma (Dutch for Grandmother) has already survived two types of cancer that were termed deadly in the early 1960s. In her thirties, she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, and shortly thereafter, with bladder cancer. At this point, chemotherapy and radiation were still relatively new. These treatments, while helpful in defeating the cancer, left massive scarring on her intestines--mainly because the levels were too strong and too high. So, effectively, it took the good with the bad. But at that time her options were somewhat limited.
"You can try these experimental treatments," said the doctors. "Or not. But if you decide to decline, you have about 2 months left."
Keep in mind, my grandmother had 7 children. And a husband.
"At that time, I didn't have a choice. Leaving my family wasn't an option. I never even considered it," she says. "But my life is different now. I'm 80 years old. My kids are grown. My husband is gone. And I'm in so much pain that I have no quality of life. "
If I were her, I'd go the route of pain management, too.
What started this whole sordid affair was a blood clot in her right upper thigh/hip area. At least, that's what the doctors thought. The clot (actually, the malignant tumor) resulted in some loss of feeling in her leg. This is especially bad when one is driving. And yes, Oma was driving when her leg started to go numb. She noticed something was wrong when she accidentally veered off road, and the donut shop she frequently bakes for started getting closer and closer. She thought she was hitting the break because she thought she'd moved her leg. But, really, she was gunning the engine and slamming on the gas.
And, despite the chain-link fence's best efforts, my grandmother's Ford Taurus was just too strong. And the car went careening into Mary's Donuts at a speed of 40 miles per hour.
No one was hurt and Mary didn't press charges. But Oma's license was revoked and her leg tripled in size as a result of the accident. The swelling still hasn't gone down, and this, among other things, is rather embarrassing for her.
But even in the face of her third fight with cancer, my grandmother is hilarious.
"I've never really been happy with my leg size. But at least now I have some options."
Not bad for a woman who's had to bury her husband and her youngest son.
Damn. I wish she could live forever.
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3 comments:
Aww, Jess, that just stinks. I'm so sorry. She sounds like an extraordinary woman. Just like you!
Hey Jessie! It's Becca (AKA Hoser). I saw you had a blog and had to check it out! Check out mine too! Anyways, my grandfathers prostate cancer has developed into bone cancer, so I have an idea of what you are going through. Much like your Oma, his attitude about it makes me smile. He always goes around saying "The Good Lord has kept me around for 84 years, the Good Lord can take me when he needs me!" Hope you are enjoying life!
Jessie, I was so sorry to hear about Oma. Cancer is such a bitch. I didn't realize when you told me that she had had cancer before that she was so young when she had it! I completely understand her decision to go with the pain management route. With my grandad, it came to that point too. He had had enough. Doesn't make it easy though. I still get teary when I think about my grandaddy. I'm sorry, and I love you.
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