CANCER

Growing up, my grandpa was my rock. Like every other grandchild, to me he could do anything and everything.

I would never have a scrape or cut for long because I would go see Grandpa, and he would get out the butterfly tape and fix me right up.

He was a giant of a man who could be called on for anything. He was the super glue of my life. It was so exciting and thrilling to go fishing or hunting with Grandpa.

We had our special Tuesday night date night watching the Tuesday night fights for years. I'll be writing about the effects of this later on in my blog.

Overalls and a plain colored t-shirt were his signature wardrobe. Grandpa would even be buried in these very clothes.

After my grandma went to heaven, cancer consumed my grandpa. He had already had one lung removed, but now he was dying.

I stayed with my grandpa for the last month or two of his life to care for him. I was there, and I watched my rock turn into something unrecognizable.

I did everything for my grandpa at this point. I cooked his meals, helped him take baths, and shaved him.

I'll never forget the first time I shaved him. He said, "What are you doing? You don't start shaving at the ear; you start with your upper lip." That's how I shave now.

I would help him into bed and tuck him in. Then, I would sleep on the couch in the living room outside his bedroom.

Grandpa would tell me how proud he was of me. And there, he knew it took more than courage to do what I was doing.

And of course, I got to learn some more of his tall tales. I never did make homemade biscuits to his satisfaction. I wish he could taste them now.

Sometimes he would wake me up throughout the night for a drink, or maybe he was hungry. Sometimes it was pain. I would comfort him.

In the mornings, I would always have to approach his door not knowing: was my grandpa still here?

Sometimes he would not respond to my voice, so I would have to approach his bed to give him a gentle shake.

My grandpa had become very weak and frail. Every single time I approached his door, it was with fear. Was I going to find the empty shell of my rock?

Cancer destroyed the only man I have ever loved right before my eyes. But I was there for it; I was there for him. Where was everybody else who was calling me his favorite?

Grandpa loved me, and I loved him, and I'm sorry, people, if that makes me a favorite. The truth of the matter is, he was my favorite.

My grandpa was hospitalized because of his breathing. When he was put in the hospital, I went to work in Omaha to make some money.

I went to the hospital to tell him I would be back. We hugged, and we both cried.

The following morning, 120 miles away, I got a call to come home. There was no real reason; they just said I needed to go home.

I feel that my grandpa waited until I was away because he did not want me to watch him as he exited for his eternal home in heaven.

Grandpa was gone.

I absolutely hated cancer. How dare an evil form of disease do this to my grandpa? To me? Why was I given such a lesson?

Thirty years later, cancer returned. When I was taking care of my grandpa, I was friends with a girl down the alley. Today, she is much more than a friend.

She was diagnosed with breast cancer. I watched her battle through it with grace and dignity. She was so positive about herself and her ability to beat it.

Today, she is my new warrior coach. She is the ultimate inspiration for me, almost as if Grandma and Grandpa sent her when they knew from heaven I was ready.