My Diabetic Heart

When I wrote my last post, Sometimes a win leads to a loss on Monday, July 22, I did so with the knowledge that my aunt would more than likely die soon.  I knew things looked really bad and that I would more than likely be making the trip to Louisville on Wednesday to say my goodbyes and be with the family.  What I didn’t know how long she might have.  I received that answer firsthand.

After keeping watch over night, I saw my aunt draw her last breath at approximately 8:27 a.m. that Saturday morning.  A quick gasp, a slight groan, and she was gone.

I’ve had so many thoughts and emotions run through me since that moment.   I’m really not sure how to feel or what to think.  If anything, I’m just numb.  I’m struggling to function at all really.  What can I say?  Watching someone die is quite the mind altering experience.   And I know it is going to be a while before things get better for any of us.

On Monday, April attended the funeral of a sweet lady who sang in the community choir with her.  The program for her service had an insert bearing the poem below.  The words spoke to me as they help put what I experience with my aunt into perspective, and I felt compelled to share.

There is no death

I am standing on the seashore.  A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.  She is an object of beauty and strength, and I stand and watch her until at length she is a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says, “There! She’s gone!”  Gone where?  Gone from my sight, that is all.  She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side, and she is just as able to bear her load of living weight to her destined harbor.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her.  And just at the moment when someone at my side says, “There! She’s gone!”, there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, “There she comes!”

And that is dying.   — Henry Jackson van Dyke

I truly appreciate all of the warm thoughts and prayers that have poured in during the last week.  They mean more than I can tell you.

Lots of Love to you all!

Bitter.  Discouraged.  Helpless.  Morose.  Worried.   All words that can be used to describe my current state of being.

Some of you may be aware that I have an aunt who has been battling cancer.  And some may have seen my tweets and Facebook post last month about the exciting news that the latest round of tests showed the cancer was gone.

Sometimes, though, winning against cancer (or any serious illness really) still leads to a loss of life.  Complications from treatments take their toll.  And sadly, that appears to be what’s happening with my aunt.  Treating the cancer in her neck has wrecked her salivary glands, and that combined with constant problems with her feeding tube have made it extremely difficult for her body to get the nourishment needed to help her body heal.

I received an update last night that things were looking bad, and as of 6:30 p.m. this evening, my aunt was being transported to the hospital.

I try to hold out hope that something can be done to help her.  To keep her with us.   Having watched April’s mom die of cancer last year, and having been through similar situations with other family members, I’m no stranger to the process and what’s coming.  But that doesn’t make things any easier.

I’m bitter.   I’m incredibly angry that another family member has gone through this horrible disease.

I’m discouraged that she appears to have beaten the disease itself, yet could still die from the fight.

I feel helpless, knowing that there’s not a damn thing I can do from where I am.  There’s not really anything I could do if I were down there, either.  I mean, other than raise hell with the doctors and push for them to do something.

I feel a bit morose.  I didn’t want to write this post, but needed to get the thoughts out of my head.  As I said, I’m all too familiar with this kind of situation, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

Worried? Yeah, I’m definitely worried.  I’m worried about the hell that my aunt is going through.  I’m worried about my grandmother who is doing everything she can to help her daughter fight for her life.  I’m worried about my mother who is doing what she can to help her sister, while also trying to keep working and maintaining things at home.  I’m worried about the family in general.

And, if I’m being completely honest, I’m more than a bit worried about the affect all of this is having on me.

For now, I wait for the next update and I hope and pray for the best.  And, if I may, I ask that you do the same.