The Hardest Call to Make

I’m just shy of two months from the week I was diagnosed with cancer. It has been rough to say the least and I haven’t felt up to talking to a lot of people. I have a pretty tight group of confidants that I’ve been relying on to shield me from a lot concerned calls, emails and texts. As I’ve told most people, its not personal, its not you…its me.

Most days, I just don’t have the energy to talk to anyone other the obligatory doctors, insurance, pharmacy, parents and husband. Part of the reason I started this blog was to keep those I do love updated when I can only get out of bed 3 hours a day at best and sometimes, not at all.

There is one phone call I’ve been avoiding all this time—calling my grandparents. I suppose for some people this is not a big deal, but I’m actually very close with grandparents. I have so many happy memories growing up spending time with them, whether it was Christmas parents or backyard BBQs. My grandfather is a quiet, gentle man. I’m a lot like my grandmother—loud and loveable.

I am the oldest grandchild by 16 years, so I’ve had many more years with my grandparents than my cousins and siblings. Subsequently, some of the best tales that my family recounts at get-togethers involve my grandparents and myself. As a baby, I would never go by the grandmother because her loud voice terrified me, but there are many of photos of my grandpa holding baby Nikki while I gnawed on a corn cob or sat on his lap rubbing his ear and sucking my thumb.

Once I was slightly older, I conquer the fear of grandma. My mom loves to tell the story about a summer BBQ when I was about four years old. I got a hold of the garden hose and chased my grandma around the yard spraying her. Grandma isn’t much of the athletic type, but she was laughing so hard so hard that she peed her pants. I’m sure she’ll appreciate me sharing this story on my blog.

The bottom line is that I love my grandparents and I am very close to them, despite the physical distance between us. I regularly call my grandma to gossip and solve the world’s problems and always remember to bring a Cuban cigar back for grandpa when I travel. I treasure my relationship with them, which made it all the harder for me to mentally and emotionally prepare to call them after I was diagnosed.

Obviously, my parents had been keeping them updated but still, I was silent.

How do you call your elderly grandparents and tell them you have a disease that might kill you before the old age they’re living at? What are the words to say when you know their hearts are breaking for you?

I don’t want to cause any more pain to the people I love.

So, nearly two months went by and still, I was silent, but they never gave up on me.

First, they sent flowers. Then, they put me on the prayer list at our hometown church. They sent cards and notes of encouragement. Then, they had a mass said in my honor at Marytown Monastery. And of course, some Facebook commentary and a care package with a book of prayers. Grandma’s knitting group even knit me a prayer scarf. There is no doubt how much they love me.

On Sunday, I finally gathered the courage to call midafternoon as I lay in bed resting. Grandpa picked up the phone and cried at the sound of my voice, as he explained how good it was to hear my voice and how he prays for me all the time.

I’ve never heard my Grandpa cry before. As I said, he’s a quiet, gentle man and hearing his overt emotional response got me crying immediately. It was overwhelming to say the least. Grandma got on the phone shortly after—she promised she wouldn’t cry, but she did. And that’s okay. I cried too.

I don’t know when I’ll call again. I hope sooner than later. It hurts me so deeply for them to have to feel my pain, but I know by not talking with them, it is of no solace to anyone.

I guess, more or less, this is a story of true love—the kind you’re lucky to find in even one extended family member, and I got blessed with two.