xtoongrlx

I have an Uncle Ron. He's actually my sister's godfather, but he's the only person who's ever been like an uncle to us (I have quite a dysfunctional family, so we are not close to my only actual uncle). I have known him since the day I was born, and he's one of the few positive male influences my sister and I have had (my dad frequently fell short of that ideal when I was growing up). He was the one who bought our Easter dresses every year, with the flowers, crinoline skirts, and matching bonnets that we liked so much (yes, I was once quite a girl). We tried so hard not to get messy when we were wearing them, because we wanted to make him proud. He was always the one with the big smile in the front row of our dance recitals, taking a million pictures. He was a veteran, and I used to love hearing his stories about fun stuff he did when he was on leave.

Anyway, his brother (my Uncle Bill) died about 10 years ago. He was an addict, and he fell asleep smoking something in bed. He burned down their house, killing himself and their animals. My uncle had the house rebuilt and moved back in, and he's never been the same since. He's just been wasting away, consumed by grief.
When it was time for me to get a new car, I gave him my old one, because I thought maybe that would give him a chance to be out in the world.

We found out this week that he has lung cancer that has spread to his kidneys and his bones. I'm told that it's considered advanced when it gets to that point. He's also got severe emphysema and an enlarged prostate. They say if they do chemotherapy on him, it'll probably kill him faster (he's gotten quite frail).They admitted him into the hospital last night for pain management, and are trying to work out some kind of a plan. They've got him on Dilaudid, and he's asking for something stronger. Last time I checked, there isn't anything stronger than that.

It's been a little bit since I've seen him, and I didn't even recognize him the last time. He's only 63! I don't want to remember him as this frail shell of a person. I want to remember him how he was: strong, always smiling. However, I fear that I'll regret not spending time with him. They don't know how much longer he has. I'm not so concerned about myself. I'm more concerned with other people's grief. I worry about my sister dealing with this, because I've worried about her since the day she was born. I can handle it; I've dealt with bad things my entire life. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger. The thing is, I'm sitting here at work having intermittent crying fits. My grandmother died of emphysema 8 years ago, and I'm still not over that. I had to feed her when I visited, and she died not knowing who I was. I miss her every single day, and sometimes still cry about her. My step-grandmother was murdered by her husband many years ago, and I still miss her. I don't want to lose another good person, but at least he won't be in pain anymore.

This hurts.

Please keep him in your thoughts.

I can't wait for camping, so I can just relax with the cute little Texan and all of you other cool kids. It couldn't come at a better time.