Confirmation of the Suspected

It's unsettling when you get a dreaded announcement from a family member.  The announcement that a loved one's life is not only finite (which we all know anyway), but actually has an expiration date penciled in.

Very unsettling.

We've known that Jackie's husband, Gary, was not well.  He's had a series of unfortunate things that have happened to him in a short amount of time.  There was a heart attack one time, and most recently his spleen ruptured.  Who knows what kind of things have taken place in between.  Our family members have never been very forthcoming when it comes to that sort of thing.  We're not one of those 'news travels like wildfire' families.  We all know that he's been gaunt and losing weight for some time now.  The news of stage 4 lung cancer was no surprise, but the news that it had spread to other areas was not good news.  Brain lesions too.  I don't know much about the significance of that sort of thing, but I know our brains are encased in a hard shell for a reason.  They must be kept in perfect condition for us to function.

The outlook?  Not good.  If everything goes perfect he'll see next Christmas.  That's not very damn perfect.

When Jackie first sent me the email yesterday morning, I read it and sat in stunned silence while I absorbed it.  I was at work.  I re-read it a few times.  When you read something like that, it's 'hard news'.  It's not just talk.  When you stare at the words, it's fact.  I had to work pretty hard at sticking to my job after that.  I tried to push it out of my mind but it kept creeping back.  All day long it was orbiting around my brain--sometimes doing a pretty close pass.

Very unsettling.

I think what's going through my head the most is just an overwhelming feeling of helplessness.  It's like I'm on the outside of a room with my face against a window.  Even if I could get in I don't know what I would do once I was inside.  I stand outside with a false bravado, nodding and smiling and hoping that it helps.

What else can you do?

Sarah asked me last night if I was going to go visit them.  I told her, "No, the last thing they need is a bunch of people descending on them."  We saw them recently--maybe a month ago or so.  We'll go when we feel it's a good time.  The trouble is, Jackie and Gary live in a pretty isolated place.  Out in a rural area near Port Orchard is not someplace you just 'drop in and visit' like you do when someone is located nearby.  I'm pretty sure they moved there for that exact reason:  To gain some privacy.  That doesn't make things any easier on anybody on the outside of their household during times like this, but it may be exactly what they need.  They'll have physical privacy, but we're still all connected via email and phones.

I feel bad for Jackie.  I'm glad that she's a go-getter.  She's an active lady that's always doing stuff.  That sort of person generally has a better time at holding all the loose, frazzled ends together--no matter how overwhelming they may seem.  The bad thing is that neither of them are working, and their monetary worth is pretty much non-liquid.  They need to sell things--things that they have lovingly accumulated or created for their enjoyment during their lives together.  That's sad because it has to happen, and frustrating when it doesn't happen at the speed you need it to.

When you know somebody's time is short, it's almost worse than a sudden surprise exit.  The only advantage is that they have time to sign papers, tell stories, and sort things out.  Time to write the memoirs.