Cancerous Rage

When I was young, life was so simple. People remembered your name and walked around seamlessly, with no effort. We would laugh and cry over happy memories, jokes and current events. Our only worries were about the carnivals of tomorrow, the rainy day activities, and the “Did you see that?” talks on our family walks in the trees. Our family walks in the trees. When I was young, people around me didn’t drop like flies from this, this cancerous rage.

Grandma died last month. But I still haven't come to terms with how rapid this sickness can eat away at somebodies body, mind and soul. Her selfless, gentle soul. I still haven't come to terms with how quickly it can, and will take that person away. Whereas they were happy, and healthy one month. Gone the next.

I’ll give it to the Hospice for being as patient and welcoming as they possibly could, though. Attending to her every need in this short time we had left with her. She fought and accused them of “poisoning” her, while she thought the sedative given to calm her nerves, had given her hallucinations. It was alarming, but in a morbid kind of way, whimsical. We’d never seen her act in such ways, it was odd really. This adorable, loving old lady, letting all of her pent up anguish out; it was a relief. She went as far as demanding my mother to fetch her water and ice from outside sources due to not trusting the nurses. But alas, it had just been the cancer eating away at her brain and self control. For it was her idea to be admitted there in the first place.

On my last visit, I knew it was time. Coming in from the chilling, blizzard outside, I may as well brought a bucket of snow with me.

“Oh, that feels nice, dear.” My cold hands, on her extremely overheated body from the cancer raging inside, felt nice. She was always munching on ice cubes, and kicking the blankets off the bed.

“Are you crying?” Grandma had asked me, as I held her soft, weak hand.

“No, Grandma. I’m just happy to be here with you.” I’d say. Though I was overwhelmed with agony, having to say goodbye. With my hands heating up, from the warmth of the hospice air, she lifted hers, as if to let me know she didn’t want to be touched anymore. Which made my heart ache, I didn’t want to let go. Ever.

Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion, unable to open. But she heard me weep. She didn’t want me to weep, she wanted us to smile, because she would soon be with Grandpa and Uncle Joey. And all the other lost souls, abiding the rules of this cancerous rage. I always thought I’d be going to weddings and happy occasions, not funerals several times a year. It’s hard on soul. Losing count on how many people you’ve lost, fingers and toes not even enough to keep track.

My family has a hard time coping.

Life gets busy and with most of our family in Ontario, it becomes difficult to stay in touch. We all grieve in different ways and that sometimes has an impact on what we all think of each other. Myself, for example, I like to be alone with my thoughts. But my oldest brother thinks that I am being selfish and should be comforting family. I am diligent to do both, obviously not to his knowledge. But I understand his anger to be a part of his grieving process, so I never push.

When I was young, life was so much more simple. We would scrape our knees and grandma, keeping an eye on us from the window, would come barreling outside with the wound cleaner and band-aids. She would wipe our tears and say “Come on now, lets get you some cantaloupe and get Grandpa to tell us a story.” She always thought of everyone over herself. Her thoughtful self. When I was young, the name of game was pick a movie title and we’d draw it from grandpas silly old golf hat, and decide what to watch at the drive in, and how boring it was for us kids when the adults won that round. While, our only worries were making it home before the streetlights came on, or what we would be eating for dinner while we flipped through the only three channels on the television; settling for some crumby soap opera or Jerry Springer. When I was young, we still had all our family buzzing around us like flies, no cancerous rage to be seen.