Tired

The official diagnosis for my Father in Law came back today. He has not one, but two kinds of that disease. As a family, we are in shock. As an individual, I'm tired. I'm sad. And I'm disheartened. Statistics show that he has a 30-40% chance of surviving the next 5 years. He's 70 years old. A liver transplant may eventually be an option, but...he's 70 years old. Details.

So I'm sitting here, panicking, because this knowledge is bringing back to life (no pun intended) my awareness and fear of mortality. Not just (or even primarily) my own, but that of those I love. Let's say he didn't have that stuff. Let's say he was as healthy as a horse (so to speak). How many years does he have? Based on family history, about 20. That's still not forever, but it's certainly more than 5 years. It's two decades. I think I could finally sort of get my head around this, if I had two decades. At least my son would grow up knowing his Grandfather. At least my Mother in Law would have a fulfilling retirement, traveling the world with her husband, something they've been planning and looking forward to for a number of years. And at least my husband wouldn't be facing the loss of his Father, while still just beginning a life with his son.

Panicking. What's this going to do to us? What's it going to do to my husband, who is already stressed beyond his limits? What's it going to do to my son? Will there be other casualties? Will my husband's health begin to decline as well, as a result of the stress? Will my son be robbed of his Father too? So maybe that's a little extreme. 

How about this? No matter what, my son's earliest memories will be clouded by this. There's no good time for this to happen in a family, but I am genuinely worried about the effect this will have on his psychological and social development. This stress--this gray cloud in our blue sky--is already affecting him, even if we can't yet see it. 

No, my FIL hasn't been handed a death sentence. Yes, we may have 5, 10, even 20 more years with him. Hell, I may have a stroke before any of these other yahoos bite the dust. But we know this: We know it's there. We know there are only so many things that can be done. And I think the worst thing about this awful disease is the timeline. It's the way it poisons and destroys our lives the way it does an individual's body. It's the 30 days between each scan. It's the 3 days of waiting for the test results, every 30 days. It's the meetings with the doctors and waiting for the phone calls. The next round of treatment. The illness that ensues. And the dread and hope of the next scan. It's the knowing and not knowing. Always feeling like you're in a waiting room, while trying desperately to hold onto some kind of normal in your life. I'm remembering experiences with other loved ones. And the remembering is what's making me tired tonight. 

I love my FIL like I love my own Father, and somewhere beyond the frustration and sadness I will find my strength, and I will fight with him. I will NOT let this destroy my family, no matter what. And I will work to live my life to the fullest and create the same experience for my son, so that this thing will gain no ground. But to do this, I need an outlet. So here I am. Grieving, feeling hopeless, and preparing for the worst. Right here. And as the words flow out of my mind, through my fingers, into this post, I am one step closer to going back to my life as the person I need to be for my family.