I flew back to New England this weekend to see my grandmother. She's 84 years old and 4 feet 8 (and a half) inches tall. She's quiet, strong, and loves the beach. When I was 4 I told a stranger to "shut up" and she told me not to be "fresh" - whatever that means. I've never seen her sick, and my suspisions of her amazing immune system have been confirmed- up until now, she had only been to the hospital 6 times- all of which were to deliver 6 out of 7 of her babies (the first being born at home). My grandmother has cancer. Of course she does. What else would cause her to need a doctor? Through the emergency department, no less.
It's hard extracting reliable information from family members about what's going on inside her body. I wanted to pretend that I would understand, being a first year in medical school I practically could have diagnosed her myself (... does sarcasm translate well in blogs?). Part of me wanted to know where it was, how far it had progessed, what was going to happen, and how long things would go on. I wanted to be able to say I knew what was happening and how it would turn out. I wanted to help her and my family. As soon as I got there and saw my tiny (no offense, Grandmother) helpless gram in an ugly hospital jonny with those awful socks they make you wear, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. I'm grateful to the people who helped me fly home. I'm grateful that the storm held off long enough to let my flight land. I'm grateful I realized that time is precious and family is love long before this weekend. I didn't care about the disease anymore.
Just before I left, Grandmother said to me "The ones who have to work the hardest make it the farthest. Just like you. Go and learn and be a doctor. I'm so proud of you." I don't know that she's ever said more to me my whole life- Irish Catholics have a way of keeping their thoughts to themselves (too bad I wasn't born with that gene, huh?).
My grandmother is going to die- I know that. I'm sad that I probably won't be able to get back home until Christmas, but in the meantime I'm happy to know that being here is exactly where she wants me to be right now.
I'm on the plane back to Cali now. After a much needed fall break, class starts again on Monday. I need more time. I need to be at home. I need to cry and be angry with god. But I can't. I need to be a medical student.
In the hospital she asked "Are you going to be able to do this? Are you going to be able to have patients that are in pain all the time?" Probably not, Grandmother, but I'll have to figure something out.
