Treatment

Yesterday I took my grandma to her first chemo treatment. It went really well, despite it taking an eternity & them bruising the crap out of her hand trying to draw blood.

After the treatment was over I took her to my job to wait for my cousin & her daughter to pick her up & take her to our hometown so I didn't have to drive all the way back there (an hour). She told me, "Andrew, I'll always remember you were the one who was with me for my first treatment." That's right!

On Christmas, EVERYONE is supposed to be coming over. This will be the first time in years that this will happen. Even though there will be one less person (my grandpa), there will be more babies. My grandmother. All 5 of her kids (living) kids. The 3 in-laws. All 10 grandkids. 5 of their spouses. And all 10 great-grandkids. In a doublewide trailer. It's going to be a glorious trainwreck. Since everyone will be there & considering the circumstances, we're going to take some family pictures. That'll be interesting. The last family picture we had done was just the grandkids when I was the baby of the family (back in 1987).

I promise to post some different material in the next few days. I think I know what my next post is going to be, but I've been debating about whether or not I want to actually write it because of how embarrassing it is.

Slimeball

Yesterday, I went to my grandma's church. This wouldn't be a big deal except that her pastor is the same pastor from this story. In case you don't want to read about the debacle of my grandfather's death, let me refresh you: the pastor basically turned the funeral into an alter call for people to become saved not just so they could be with Jesus, but so they could also be reunited with my grandfather. He was also just really slimy.

At the service, he was very loud. And just like at the funeral, he coughed the entire time. The most offensive thing he did though was when he was talking about all of the people who needed prayer & he got to two of my great-aunts. Aunt Etta, bless her heart, has had Alzheimer's for a decade at least. And this wonderful pastor said, "And Miss Etta could still use your prayers. She's still hanging on." Well no shit, Sherlock. And she's not going to get better until her body just completely shuts down. Now be respectful of HER CHILDREN, SISTER (my grandmother), nieces, & nephews in the congregation & don't be a twat.

His next attack on my family came when talking about my great-aunt Shirley. I don't even know what's wrong with her except she's in the hospital & probably won't be around much longer. The pastor told everyone, "Yeah, Shirley's in the hospital. Not doing too good. I'm going to visit her tonight." Sigh.

I know I may be blowing this out of proportion, but I just find the way he handles things to be really disrespectful. He also has a terrible comb-over.

On another note, my cousin Jason (not his real name) was arrested Saturday night at a Phish concert. I'm waiting for that magazine with mugshots to come out on Friday & hopefully he'll be in it so he can autograph it. I might as well try to make a crappy situation a little funnier.

Great-Grandfather? You ARE The Father!

So this is one of the posts I was going to do a month ago but didn't. I figure now is as good a time as any to get write it.

Back in January, I had stopped by Aunt Norah's (as you know, not her name) house to drop off some tea I get from work that she likes. We were just sitting in her living room talking about our family & stuff that happened before I was born, when she mentioned Donna (not her name). "Who is Donna?" I asked. "Oh, you haven't heard?" replied Norah. Of course I hadn't heard. My parents & I are almost always the last people in our family to hear about anything. But as it turns out, most of us didn't know. And what didn't we know? This....

My great grandfather (the father of my grandfather that just died) was apparently loose. There was already speculation back in the day that he fathered one child out of wedlock (who for some reason was already part of the family & grew up with my dad & his siblings. While it was never proven, it was heavily assumed because of rumors & the way she looked. I have no idea who this lady is, which isn't surprising because we have a tremendous family.

Anyway, a few years ago this new woman (Donna) approached my grandparents & told them that she thought she was the half-sister of my grandfather. D'oh! She was no stranger to them, having been a regular at the restaurant where my grandmother used to waitress. They only said something to a few of our family members, & surprisingly were able to keep it all pretty hush-hush (those people can't not gossip. Even if it's about themselves). Anyway, Donna's possible-half-brother Edward (not his name) wanted nothing to do with her because he was a turd & holier than thou. But he died a few years ago & she's slowly been feeling more comfortable.

Anyway, I went to see my parents (this was when I still lived with Skidmark & was making almost daily visits back to Rocky Mount for my safety) & asked my mother about Maybe-Great-Aunt Donna. She had no idea what I was talking about, & immediately texted my father, who responded with, "WHAT?!" So there was that. Later that night, my father called Norah, who gave him Donna's contact information. My parents then met with Donna & her husband, & encouraged her to get a paternity test & become more involved with everyone.

Then all of the crap happened with my grandfather. The second day I was at the hospital the week his lung collapsed, I went into the waiting room & was shortly joined by a lady I had never seen. I figured she was a friend of the family or some relative I had never met (or hadn't seen since I was little). Well, it turns out it was Maybe-Half-Great-Aunt Donna. Well, hey there! She asked me some question & we figured out we were there for the same people, & we both got really excited when we realized who the other person was. After reuniting with my grandmother, I got to witness the introduction of Maybe-Half-Great-Aunt Donna with her maybe-half-sister Lucille (not her name). They got along famously, & they even look similar. Then some of my cousins began trickling in. In a funny turn of events, the ones that came to visit had never heard of Maybe-Half-Great-Aunt Donna (which made me feel awesome for knowing something before them). It was really funny to watch their faces as they realized what was happening.

There was some awkwardness, though (because of course). One of the things I haven't mentioned was that Donna is literally half a month older than my dad. So she is the same age as one of her nephews. Yup! Another awkward moment was when she hugged my cousin Maria (not her name, duh) & told her she was sorry about her mother. Maria's mom (my aunt Mary [her real name, because she's dead]) was murdered in 1986. I found out at this point that Donna had known since the 70's that she might be part of our family but just learned about us through other channels. I also learned that my great-grandfather was a cop, to which I said, "Well, obviously he did a whole lot of serving & not a lot of protecting" (only Maria heard me. She laughed but it was still awkward if you understand what the meaning behind it was).

Since then, I only saw Donna one more time at the hospital right before my grandfather died. She was in his room with my grandmother, & she was saying her goodbye. It was really tough on her because she had finally started to get the family she'd always wanted & now her possible-brother was sedated & on a ventilator. She was trying not to cry, & told me after we left that what kept her strong in there was seeing me since I had been so supportive of her the other day. I also had noticed when she was about to start crying & gave her tissues.

Apparently she was at the visitation & funeral, but I didn't see her. She wasn't at the burial. But the next week, after everything that had happened, the paternity results came back.

Maybe-Half-Great-Aunt Donna was officially Half-Great-Aunt Donna. Holla, Half-Great-Aunt Donna!

And that's how I inadvertently gave us a new family member, just because I asked some questions & got a ball rolling.

What Happened A Few Weeks Ago

So I know I've already said what happened 2 1/2 weeks ago, but now comes the time when I actually blog about it.

My grandfather died.

Despite us not being close, I was still sad. Watching someone you've grown up with disintegrate like that...it's tough. Here is what happened....

Papa had been in really crappy health for a while. Having been a smoker since he was 7, he eventually had to quit a few years ago because of his emphysema. He also was prone to strokes & aneurysms. A few years ago the doctors thought he may have lung cancer, so they did some biopsies. This routine continued for a few years: maybe cancer! Oh wait! No, it's just scar tissue!

In September, it came back as being 100% positive that he had lung cancer. None of us knew really what was going to happen as far as treatment or prognosis, so all bazillion of us in our family tried to just be around as much as we could (give or take a few).

Then, in January, he decided to have a surgery that was not highly recommended. In fact, the survival rate was only about 10%, given his current state of health. But that dipshit went ahead & had it done. You can pretty much tell where this is going.

He did survive the surgery. Oh yeah guess what else: IT WASN'T CANCER! Lovely. Anyway, he was resting up at Duke for a few weeks. I even went & saw him, which is more than any of his 9 other grandchildren did during this time (granted, most of them live over an hour away & the majority of them are married, have kids, or are druggies with no mode of transportation). He seemed really out of it, & he looked like complete crap. Which is expected, being in the hospital & everything. While I was there visiting, the doctor even said that he could be sent to a nursing home by their house for his rehabilitation process! Joy!

However, while at the nursing home, his chest tubes wouldn't drain. His food would also go down his windpipe, so he had to get put on a feeding tube. Eventually, he had to go back to Duke. A few days after being released from Duke, his lung collapsed at home. My grandmother called my aunt, uncle, & cousin who live on the same property to come over, & then called 911. He coded in the ambulance but was revived by the time he got to the hospital. Once there, he was sedated & heavily drugged.

The day after that was when I came into the picture again. I had a few days off from work so I went home. I practically lived at the hospital, being there almost as much as my grandmother (who wouldn't leave). This whole time he was sedated, but supposedly could still hear us. This whole thing became somewhat of a family reunion for everyone, as family emergencies are prone to do. Aside from a few people (grandmother, aunt) we all knew what was going to eventually happen. As I told my mother when I headed back to Cary, "See you in a few days."

And I was right. That Sunday the doctor met with my parents & all of my dad's siblings & their spouses. That was when it was confirmed that my grandmother was going to have to make the call when to take the ventilator out because he could not stay as he was. I came back that day & just hung around the hospital & drove around with some of my cousins. Monday was basically the same. However, Monday night was bad for him & my grandmother decided to have the ventilator taken out Tuesday evening, so everyone could be there.

My family is huge, so we completely overtook the waiting room. Everyone was really anxious, but still in good spirits. The doctor said that it would only take a few minutes, but unfortunately that wasn't the case. It took forever. To the point where it seemed like he may bounce back & my grandmother started getting excited (it was so painful to watch). Everyone left except for my grandmother, my cousin Joey (not his name), & me because it was getting so late.

Eventually we tried to sleep, & then around 3:30am there was a call to the waiting room & my grandmother hurried up to the ICU. I followed a few minutes later, not wanting her to be by herself. The nurse told me that it probably wouldn't take much longer, so I called Joey & my parents (who live close to the hospital). Joey called his mom, too. The two of us went into the room with my grandmother & we all cried & held hands. My parents showed up so I stepped out because I was so emotionally drained. A little while later Joey's mom came, too. A few hours later my mother left for work (she took a half-day) & Joey & I got some breakfast at Cracker Barrel. Then we tried to sleep again, which was fail. Around 9 I had to peace out because my body was going numb. I passed my mom going into the hospital as I was leaving, & wished her luck. Two hours later she called me to tell me that he had died.

I'm not going to lie: I was kind of pissed that I hung out at the hospital all that time & he waits to die when I'm gone. Asshole.

My dad (who had already started planning the funeral with his only responsible sibling, Aunt Norah [not her name], her husband Tom [not his name], & my mother) got everything rocking & rolling. My cousin Amber (not her name) & I went through pictures to make a slideshow. A slideshow I basically got no credit for because while I found most of the pictures, Amber scanned them & put them on the disc. Whatever. It was still fun. I'm going to post them all later.

Overall, the service was crap. There was Southern gospel sung by some of my relatives. There was the pastor barely being able to make it through a complete sentence without stumbling over his words. There was also the pastor turning the funeral into a plea for everyone to accept Jesus into their hearts not just so they can spend eternity with God, but to do it so you can see my grandfather again. I am serious. He also said that babies cry when they're born because they see what kind of world we live in & want nothing to do with it. I say it is because they're naked, cold, & have a bunch of people pulling on them. I'm right.

I was a pallbearer with 5 of my other male cousins (there are actually 7 of us but 1 was in the process of moving back from Florida & couldn't make it) & let me just say that that junk is HEAVY. After the mausoleum portion, we went to my grandparent's church (where we have all of our Thanksgiving family reunions) & had a very nice meal where everything had pork in it. Because we are Southern & Everything Must Have Pork.

P.S. I don't eat pork.

I went back to Cary that day but on the way there I went to see my grandmother (she lives on the way). She was there alone & just seems lost. We just sat there & talked a while, & it was nice. Eventually my parents, Uncle Rob (not his name), Aunt Norah & her husband, Aunt Norah's first husband, & Joey all came by. A few hours later I left & just relaxed at my place.

Everything is back to normal, basically. My mother said that my grandmother is really lonely & doesn't want to change the sheets because they smell like my grandfather. It's going to take time, but she's a resilient old bird & has a bazillion people who will be there for her. My father, on the other hand, hasn't cried once. He wasn't close to my grandfather either & seems to be compartmentalizing. So my mother & I are kind of waiting to see what will happen with that.

Sorry this was such a long post. There was so much to say, & I just didn't feel like dealing with it right after it happened. Also, sorry about any typos. Don't feel like proof-reading.

P.S. I didn't include the part where my parents (& to a degree Aunt Norah) got in a fight with one of my cousins because it's really stupid. Like so stupid that I didn't realize it was a real fight for a little bit despite the fact that I was standing there for almost the whole thing.

P.P.S. I also forgot to include where one of my uncles showed up to the funeral drunk. He didn't act it, but you could smell it.