Why do people live only to die in the end?
Fat Grandma is diagnosed with Stage 4 liver cancer, terminal. 3 to 9 months left.
She's not even fat anymore. She lost a lot of weight and her skin is yellow - toxin build up. The doctors can't even cure her because her body wouldn't be able to take the treatment. I knew her memory was starting to fail her, I knew she started to have some very weird pet peeves she never had before her eye surgery, but I didn't expect her to get diagnosed with cancer, not after her diabetes was miraculously gone. There weren't even symptoms, it developed so suddenly and rapidly.
It pained me to see tubes poked right through her flesh, her whining to me that it's painful, saying "When can I go home?" "But I don't smoke and drink..." "But I drink plenty of water each day" "Don't cry for me I'm fine".
I ought to be home more often.
From that young dependent girl whom she doted on to that girl who barely returns home in a month - I don't know what I'll feel if she's gone.
I want her okay.
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