The mortality of man

I’m reminded, once again, how fragile life is.

My mother called me last night at about 10 – which is extremely late for her on a week day – with some upsetting news. My grandpa is in the hospital with lung cancer. He went in for a check-up because of some chest pain (he’s had heart problems in the past, so they were being safe) and a CT scan showed the terrible truth: A tumor the size of about 1.5 golf balls on his right lung.

Mom said they didn’t ask about a time frame because it’s just not worth knowing. I agree with her, for the most part. My grandpa’s led a long, incredible life. There’s no point putting an expiration date on it.

They’ll see another doctor tomorrow for some further discussions, but my grandpa has already decided against any chemo or radiation treatments.

Now, I know he’s still with us and I shouldn’t jump the gun, so to speak, but I can’t help but think about what’s going to happen at the end. I’m scared to death for my mom because I know how close her and her father are. This isn’t the first family death I’ve experienced (let’s not go there) and it’s probably not going to be the last but you just never get used to this sort of thing.

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