T Campbell's Blog
Writer of Penny and Aggie, Fans (also called Faans), Rip & Teri, Search Engine Funnies and A History of Webcomics. Experienced webcomics editor, currently seeking full-time work and working on strange and interesting new things...Monday, April 11, 2005
Weeks.
Check the Graphic Smash page for the latest Fans this week.
I've been counting down weeks for the last few months, in a combination of anxiety and excitement as Fans nears its conclusion. Now I have another reason to count weeks, but it's an unhappier one.
My Uncle Sandy is dying of lymphoma.
After the diagnosis, he got up and took a shower. He's relatively normal right now, his fever kept in check by medication, but they say weeks are about the right measurement for how much time he's got left.
Weeks. Weaks.
It's not fair.
He has two daughters and a loving wife.
It's not fair.
When I think of Sandy, I always think back to the days when I had trouble telling him apart from Uncle Jack. At seven, I had the clumsiness with names and faces that would plague me to the present. Sandy was losing his hair and said to me with a smile, "I'm the bald one." That gentle, self-deprecating humor, the quiet confidence behind it, that just says "Sandy" to me. (About ten years later, I would have needed a new scheme to tell Jack and Sandy apart, but by this time they'd both made their impressions.)
I'll try the Graham home tomorrow, see if I can get through.
Sandy has lived a good life, on balance. He has had a model marriage and two amazing daughters, one in college and one in high school. He has had a good solid career and earned a beautiful house in uptown Atlanta. He has gotten to pursue many different interests, and enjoyed countless beach vacations with me and the rest of the extended family. I don't know the full extent of his suffering since his first diagnosis two years ago-- but no matter what, his is a life to be proud of.
And this way we get to say goodbye in person, while he can understand us, which makes it slightly, slightly easier for us to cope. And he gets to say his goodbyes instead of leaving the world suddenly, regretting things unsaid. I think he would prefer that.
But it's still not fair.
I've been counting down weeks for the last few months, in a combination of anxiety and excitement as Fans nears its conclusion. Now I have another reason to count weeks, but it's an unhappier one.
My Uncle Sandy is dying of lymphoma.
After the diagnosis, he got up and took a shower. He's relatively normal right now, his fever kept in check by medication, but they say weeks are about the right measurement for how much time he's got left.
Weeks. Weaks.
It's not fair.
He has two daughters and a loving wife.
It's not fair.
When I think of Sandy, I always think back to the days when I had trouble telling him apart from Uncle Jack. At seven, I had the clumsiness with names and faces that would plague me to the present. Sandy was losing his hair and said to me with a smile, "I'm the bald one." That gentle, self-deprecating humor, the quiet confidence behind it, that just says "Sandy" to me. (About ten years later, I would have needed a new scheme to tell Jack and Sandy apart, but by this time they'd both made their impressions.)
I'll try the Graham home tomorrow, see if I can get through.
Sandy has lived a good life, on balance. He has had a model marriage and two amazing daughters, one in college and one in high school. He has had a good solid career and earned a beautiful house in uptown Atlanta. He has gotten to pursue many different interests, and enjoyed countless beach vacations with me and the rest of the extended family. I don't know the full extent of his suffering since his first diagnosis two years ago-- but no matter what, his is a life to be proud of.
And this way we get to say goodbye in person, while he can understand us, which makes it slightly, slightly easier for us to cope. And he gets to say his goodbyes instead of leaving the world suddenly, regretting things unsaid. I think he would prefer that.
But it's still not fair.
Comments:
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As someone who's lost a number of family members recently, my deepest sympathies go out to you.
It's never fair, but the fact that he can face it with his family around him is a big thing to be thankful for.
I'd suggest doing something with him that he's always enjoyed doing, giving him a few laughs and a few stories, but how you and yours deal with this is a very personal thing.
Again, much sympathy to you and yours.
~Michael.brost@gmail.com
It's never fair, but the fact that he can face it with his family around him is a big thing to be thankful for.
I'd suggest doing something with him that he's always enjoyed doing, giving him a few laughs and a few stories, but how you and yours deal with this is a very personal thing.
Again, much sympathy to you and yours.
~Michael.brost@gmail.com
My deepest sympathies to you and yours T. Cancer is an ugly, cruel disease. I lost my mom and my best friend's mom within days of each other to it a few months ago.
My only advice, be with him. No matter how much time you spend with him, you will never think it was enough. Do anything he wants to do. Make the coming weeks about family.
Again, my sympathies to you and yours.
My only advice, be with him. No matter how much time you spend with him, you will never think it was enough. Do anything he wants to do. Make the coming weeks about family.
Again, my sympathies to you and yours.
*hugs*
We lucked out when my mom had cancer, both in the detection, and in that she's been eight years free. Take care hon.
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We lucked out when my mom had cancer, both in the detection, and in that she's been eight years free. Take care hon.
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