The last stages
I posted just before Christmas about my 30yr old son, Glenn who has metastasised melanoma which will end his life. He has battled as hard as he can but after an overnight stay in hospital, he is going home this afternoon to be cared for by hospice nurses and doctor. They wanted to keep him in hospital for a few more days to rehydrate and stablise him after a bad week of vomiting and not being able to eat but he is adamant about going home which we know is the best place for him. The oncologist told him yesterday that there is nothing more they can do for him as the chemo and radiation have not worked at all, and the cancer has spread to all parts of his body. They are going to insert an IV line into his stomach or chest tomorrow for medications and whatever else he needs to make him as comfortable as possible. I will be going there tomorrow and staying as long as I need to. I have tried to stay as strong and supportive as I can but today I am letting myself fall apart for a while so that I can get it together again tomorrow. I found myself just wanting to curl up on the floor under my desk today it was so bad.
My daughter in law is wonderful, she is doing everything she possible can to help him and keep things together which is not easy with the mood swings and some difficult behaviours caused by the brain tumours as well as the everyday business of the house and my grandson. Do any of you understand me when I say that as difficult as it is for her, sometimes I am envious of the fact that she can be with him all the time and that he talks to her and she can comfort him. I have absolutely no doubt of his love for me and I know that in his mind, letting his Mum take care of him is like giving up. I stayed with him last Thursday while Heidi had to be away for several hours and he was not at all happy about what he called "babysitting". I was in the other room after he made this comment and he came in and asked if I wanted a cup of coffee, his way of apologising. When he made it he could only get partway to the room I was in when he had to call out for me to take the mug because of the tremours. My poor baby. You have no idea (or I am sure you do) how precious that cup of coffee was.
I am sorry for this ramble, but today I feel so alone and just needed to connect with people who can understand. It is beyond heartbreaking to watch this big strong independent man diminishing before our eyes. As hard as the next few days or weeks will be, I hope we can comfort him and allow him to keep his sense of himself.
Many of you were very kind to offer your best wishes when I first wrote and I have had lovely emails for some very special people over the last months which have really helped me. Please keep my Glenn in your thoughts and prayers for this last part of his journey. Elspeth