Greetings, etc.

Life…is one harsh ride sometimes.  I’m not talking about the whole, “oh I’m busy” thing.  It’s true on some levels, but hardly adequate in describing the past few weeks.

When JJ and I got engaged, my godmother and tia immediately scheduled an engagement party for us at her house.  The whole family came, too, which meant grub for a crowd of approximately 100 people.  All my favorite Mexican foods were out - fresh guac, fluffy baked rice, beans (pinto, of course), tortillas, and big vats of chicken en mole.  The mole was done up how I like it - heavy on the chocolate and not too spicey.  It was one of the last events my grandmother was brought to.  JJ’s dad and his partner got to meet the rest of the family for the first time.  And everyone had a great time.  A really great time.  My tia’s been throwing down our family functions for years with a sort of effortlessness that we all took for granted.  But that’s how she rolled.

About three weeks ago, mi tia was diagnosed with a grade four gliobastoma multiforme tumor in her brain.  They went in, pulled it out, and sent her home with the expectation that treatment would begin in the coming weeks.  She was coherent and clear thanks to the lack of pressure on her brain.  Numbers gave her a bit of trouble though and she couldn’t dial the phone as a result.  I spent one Friday with her while her husband went to work and we chatted and gabbed (she couldn’t dial 911, so someone had to be around in case something went wrong).  I dialed the phone for her when she asked.  We talked about the treatment options her sons were investigating.  It was pleasant but also troubling.  One of the things that told them there was a problem in the first place was that she couldn’t read or speak clearly one morning.  As the afternoon went on, it was clear that some of that damage wasn’t really resolving itself.  In fact after her nap, it seemed a little worse.  I went home, happy to have been able to help, but worried.  Who wouldn’t be?

The worry wasn’t unfounded.  She was readmitted to the hospital the following week after she relapsed into the pre-surgery speech problems.  The tumor was back, and scarily bigger than the one they removed.  They called it ‘aggressive’.  I thought that was an understatement.  It was an angry mob of cells, carrying all manner of deadly weaponry.

Treatment?  Sure, you could try to treat it with chemo and radiation, but this was the kind of tumor that poured chemo on its cereal every morning.  Reality set in this past weekend and my cousins and uncle made a decision that I think no one should ever have to make about their wife or mother.  I wept for them more than my aunt that day.

When we talk about ‘quality of life’ in terms of the healthy, it’s mostly the difference between living in a good neighborhood with decent schools and some open space with a weekend market and, well, not.  It’s being able to make more choices.  It’s breathing cleaner air and using your time both productively and to rest and play.

With the sick, it’s trying to make sure the cure isn’t worse than the disease.  With the terminal, it’s weighing the difference between the amount of time you think you could have left and how much you’ll be able to do with that time while facing down any number of soul crushing limitations - pain, paralysis, deformity, neural breakdowns, etc.

My tia ate yesterday.  She hadn’t since last Thursday.  Eating is now a benchmark.

They’re bringing her home this week and setting up hospice care.  The chemo they are giving her now isn’t to get her to remission, it’s to keep her aware and cognitive for as long as possible while people come to the house to pay respects and talk to her while they still can.  Her prognosis is being measured in days and weeks, with months being used as a sort of long shot hope.

The thing that stuns me is that she’s still making it all look easy.  She’s ticked that she can’t talk.  Frustrated at her body’s betrayal.  But she’s solid, hopeful, and as in control of everything as she can be.  She knows, perhaps now more than ever, how truly loved she is.  The only real difference is that she’s leeting other people take over the things that were once hers.

In my case, it means I’m taking over some of the tasks she fulfilled in taking care of my grandmother (her mother) who lives in a nursing home nearby.  She and I are among just a few family members who still live close enough to handle doing a few mundane but necessary tasks, plus a few fun ones.  I play memory games with her using pictures of our family members.  Mama has always been a UCLA fan so when I come in, I turn over the USC pillow that my aunt put on her chair.  And sometimes if I come in time for her dinner, I’ll feed her the Ensure-laced goop and pretend it’s a fragrant, sugary flan.  Mama actually smiled at that once.  Next time I may try to turn it into ice cream.

So the focus of my life has narrowed and expanded at the same time.  I haven’t been to the market in two weeks and miss it exceedingly.  I’m having a hard time fighting the urge to order out because I don’t have the energy or desire to cook (I did last night and it was rather restorative).  But I’m also very happy that I’m in a position to be of use to my whole family in concrete ways.  Yes, we want everything fixed and happy again.  But things go wrong.  That’s life.  And when they do, you hope you have the fortitude to go on, and when you don’t, you hope you have the help to lift you up.

We’re a big loving family with a really diverse make up.  We have lives lived all over the world.  But when the tremors hit, we’re here.  The next few weeks will be occupied with family.  Some of us will do our best to celebrate life, but sorrow and a deep sense of loss will dominate.

Eventually, things will get back to ‘normal’ and posts will be more regular, but that’s a ways off yet.  Inspector Vino has a few lovely post ideas percolating (also the lucky bastard just told me he has reservations for The French Laundry coming up…insert seething envy here), so it won’t be totally dead.

When I come back to this, it will be with newness in mind - there are some lovely changes in the works and not a few special highlights of local note being planned and plotted.

The most common question people have asked us is, “What can I do to help?”  My cousin’s response so far has been the most honest and telling.

“Call someone who means the world to you and tell them that you love them. That is the best way to make today and everyday count.”

See you later.