I know, I know. Super Tuesday is long past, and my last post is gathering as much dust as the Chef’s blog.
I’m sorry I’ve been out of touch, both on the Internets and in person. I’ve tried several times to write a new entry and post my opinions on the end of the writer’s strike (yay!), the likely demise of Friday Night Lights (boo!) and even my upcoming 30th birthday (we’re getting dolled up for a night at a Russian nightclub in Brooklyn.)
But I haven’t been able to talk about any of those things because I’ve been avoiding one big subject… my grandmother. About a month ago, Grandmother had emergency surgery to remove the colon cancer that had been quietly, insidiously demolishing her digestive tract.
The Chef and I flew to Tulsa and spent a week with my family at Grandmother’s bedside, alternately holding her hand, staring at the machines that go “ping!” and playing poker in the ICU waiting room. She is recovering from the surgery, but there’s nothing they can do about the advanced liver and pancreatic cancer they found last fall.
Leaving Tulsa was a hard decision. I’ve never felt so far away from home as I did when I called Grandmother’s hospital room the day after I left. It gets easier every time I call, but I still feel like I should be there, if only to fetch the nurse when it’s time for another popsicle.
I’m going back on Tulsa time next weekend to visit with Grandmother in a rehab wing of a different hospital. I’m bringing flowers and audio books to share with her. But I’ll be taking away something she loves dearly, her two lhasa apso dogs, Sophie and Maggie. John and I agreed to adopt them as our own, after she was gone, but we’re taking them in early since we don’t know when she might be able to leave the hospital for hospice at home.
I’ll be wrangling the dogs alone on this trip, so if anyone has any advice about flying with two nervous pups, I’d love to hear it.