Improving

Well my head feels lighter, my throat isn't too bad and I can nearly breathe out my nose. But my muscles... they feel like I just ran a marathon. Or feel how I imagine they'd feel if I ran a marathon - since I hate running it's not a feeling I'll ever actually have. I'm off to do a few last minute chores before I hit the hay since I have to work in the morning.

I mentioned last night that we've had some pretty devestating news about my former mother-in-law. Mother-in-laws can be the bane of any married woman's marriage, but I have to say I have not had that issue in either of my marriages. I couldn't ask for a better m-i-l than Mother Hermit, and when I divorced The Bastard I made sure to keep his mother. Malzy (as I call her here on the blog) is something special. The Hermit and I consider her as much Her Majesty's and Clive's Nana as she is Miss Thing's and Sparky's. Screw biology - family is more than that.

Malzy has been ill for many years with emphysema. She is a heavy smoker and despite the toll on her health could never give it up. She has been more in the hospital lately than out of it, ending up in ICU last month. On Wednesday I got a message from one of my former brothers-in-law (whom I am also on good terms with - I like them all except The Bastard and his father, really) that Malzy had gotten enough strength back for them to run more tests and the news was not good. She has advanced lung cancer that has spread to her brain, and has refused all but palliative treatment.

While I was not shocked at the news, it was not something anyone enjoys hearing. The Hermit and I made plans to tell Miss Thing and Sparky on the weekend after Miss Thing had moved back home. I sent a message to my former brother-in-law, part of which asked him to please ask The Bastard to not say anything to Miss Thing, to let us handle it. I don't call him The Bastard out of misplaced anger, I assure you, as for whatever reason he didn't heed my request. Instead he sent Miss Thing a two sentence message on Facebook that read "Your Nana has lung and brain cancer. She doesn't have long to live."

Charming, no? What better way to break the news to an 18-year old that her grandmother is dying than via Facebook? I won't tell you the words I used to describe his utter thoughtlessness and selfishness, but I'm sure you can well imagine. You can also imagine Miss Thing's reaction - I spent a lot of time on the phone with her that night.

We let Sparky have his football presentation day Saturday (more about that next post) and I broke the news to him Sunday morning. Again, like his sister he was pretty upset. But they both know Malzy would not want them to be upset. This sounds cliché, but I have meet patients who welcome the drama that such a diagnosis brings. Thankfully Malzy is not such a person. I managed to coax a smile and a weak laugh out of Sparky when I asked him if he could hear his Nana's voice in his head telling him not to get upset - he admitted he could, and so could I.

There will be many more tears shed when we get the news that she is no longer with us. She's home now, and my own personal experience with hospice nurses gives us comfort that she will be well looked after no matter how much time she has left. I don't have to worry about her not knowing how we feel about her - open communication with Malzy has never been a problem. But I will take this moment to tell the rest of you that my world will not be as bright without her in it.

I love you Marilyn, and will miss you.