So I went to my grandfather yesterday. He is not looking very well. He is very weak and ill and has developed a rash on his face. He is eating, which I feel is a good sign. He told me he has re-read the documentation he has regarding cucumen and he suddenly found that everything said ‘can’, ‘possibly’, ‘may’ and ‘might’. Nothing concrete. Nothing proven.
I told him I understand that he is feeling really grim and sick. I told him that I understand that it is really very difficult to see past your misery when you are feeling this way. I tried to encourage him, to remind him that it will be worth it, that these few weeks of hell might seem long, but may add many years to his life.
We didn’t argue, even though I was very angry with him. I was angry that he was being gullible. I was angry that he wanted to give up. I was angry that he didn’t want to stay with us. Yes. I know I’m selfish. We didn’t fight though. I asked him whether he didn’t feel better that the doctor had told him that he had a ‘good’ kind of cancer, the kind that responds very well to treatment. He said that had swayed him and he was really moved by my reaction to his decision to stop. He said he’ll do it. He’ll do it for me and for his great grandson.
I cried. I lay in his arms and cried I was so happy. I’m crying now again. Thank God.