Beginning of June, my mum gets a phone call from her brother. “I just think you should know, I spoke to Dad earlier and he’s opened up on a few things.” Turned out, Grandad had had blood tests taken on the Wednesday and was going in for an X-ray on the Saturday. He had been struggling to eat and swallow since January and had lost 2 stone. Now, my grandad is a very private man. He doesn’t tell anyone anything about his health concerns etc. More than once, he’s let slip about procedures he’s undertaken, for us just to find out it was years before. So, for him to speak up… was worrying. And it made you wonder why, this time, had he made the decision to let us in. His partner wasn’t happy that he’d told us all everything. Said that he was worrying us all for nothing. I lived with my nan and grandad until I was 2 and he’s always doted on me. I’ve always been the ‘favourite’, so while one of the other grandkids sent him over a text, Mum said she thought it would be best for me to give him a call. After three hours of staring at his number and crying every time I went to press the call button, I finally bit the bullet and did it. I asked him immediately if he was okay. As expected— “I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” Coming from a man who refuses to take medication for anything and doesn’t even numb when he goes to the dentist for fillings, I didn’t expect much else. He said the 5 blood tests they took came back clear and kept giggling to himself over the fact Mum had rang him up crying, him saying how silly she can be sometimes. We had a small chat and I thought… yeah, he’s okay. Words were slightly slurred. Other than that, he sounded exactly like himself. Mum said, “I’ve been researching his symptoms. They sound a lot like oesophageal cancer.” (hurts to swallow, pain going through his chest and shoulders, heartburn). I told her she’s overthinking and we don’t know anything yet.
Sunday 7th June:
Me and Mum decided to visit grandad. A social distance visit because of COVID-19. We were let in through the back gate and sat apart from him in the back garden. He’d just been fishing—his favourite hobby—he was cleaning his fishing rods, still smiling and joking around. But the loss of weight… was immediately noticeable to me. He’d had his X-ray the day before and, paying private, said he should know the results in a few days. And this is where everything started coming out. Grandad hadn’t just noticed the symptoms in January, he had gone to the doctors. They had booked him in for tests. Then, COVID-19 happened. And with the whole world in panic etc. they had cancelled all my grandad’s tests. His ill state had gotten worse and worse and they eventually contacted him to reschedule him in… nearly 6 months later. Doctors, nurses etc were so focused on COVID-19 that they’d let other illnesses/cases slip through the cracks.
Saturday 13th June:
Mum called me from her partner’s house. She’d been to visit Grandad with her brothers and they’d spent a couple of hours drinking in the garden. Other than Grandad, who had managed a couple of sips of water just to keep hydrated. I was due to visit him the day after and this call was a ‘warning’. A warning that he had.. deteriorated since the weekend before and to prepare myself.
Sunday 14th June:
Grandad and his partner arrived home from fishing as I got there. His partner stopped me as I was walking past. Said he was too weak and ill to fish and they had watched for an hour and then came home. I went into the house, still keeping my distance, stayed in the hallway. He was in his computer room taking off his fishing gear. I laughed and said, “What are you wearing, Grandad?” as I saw his paint-spatter effect overalls over his green camouflage top. Usually, he would have laughed and made a joke, but nothing. I said, “Are you okay, Grandad?” expecting the same response as the week before, but this time he said, “No, no I’m not.” Hearing him speak like that was a shock and hit me. I know it’s normal for people to say they are not okay, but in his case… it’s really, really not. I said to him, “We’re going to have a barbecue soon, aren’t we?” and he just looked at me and said, “Maybe, if, you know…” and yes, I did know. “It is what it is. We all have to go one day,” he continued, like he was preparing me for the end. And I could feel my heart sink and I was struggling to hold back tears. He told me that he was now living off milkshakes and pureed food, but was puking them back up all the time. My grandad has ALWAYS said, once an older person ends up on pureed food… there’s no going back. I left soon after. Said, “I love you.” He said, “I love you too.” Not much of a big deal to a usual person—that’s pretty normal, right? Not with my grandad. His usual response would be, “You too.” I got into the car and just broke down in tears as Mum drove away. That night, the ambulance had to be called as my grandad was in excrutiating pain and couldn’t stop puking. The ambulance medics couldn’t give him anything for the pain without knowing the outcome of his results, so they rang his doctors. The response was, “There’s a growth in his oesophagus.” Well thank you, thank you so much for letting us know sooner considering you already had the results.
Monday 15th June:
Mum gets a call from Grandad’s partner to say she wants his children to come over immediately for a talk, so my mum rushes over. Apparently, due to COVID-19, there were no such thing as private doctors at that time, they were all NHS, even though they were strangely happy enough to take his money. I had to wait around to find out from my mum what it was she wanted to talk about, what the outcome was. I had to go to the post office for my mum to send a parcel as she’d been in the queue when Grandad’s partner had called. She drives to the post office and waits for me in the shop; I can see her smiling and think to myself, ‘This is all going to be okay.’ We leave the post office and get into her car. And nothing is okay. Nothing at all. Secondary cancer. Started in his oesophagus and is now in his lungs and liver. It is now incurable and a matter of time. All they can do is make him comfortable for now. Grandad’s partner had had to ring the doctor to chase up his results after waiting 9 days. Why, if they had the results, did it take them 9 days? Why would they not contact sooner considering the news? The doctors apologised for the fact that he’d been left without any pain meds, admitted that at this stage my grandad would be in immense pain. My uncle said it’s too fucking late now and you can shove your apology. So where do we go from here? Well, right now they would be running a camera down the throat test, but they’re not allowed due to COVID-19… so, my grandad has to wait 2 weeks in complete isolation before they will run the test. Then they need to weigh up their options, look at chemotherapy and radiotherapy to prolong his life, NOT cure it. That could take another 4 weeks and they will want him to isolate again. So, now, we all have a long wait ahead and have to just HOPE that my grandad doesn’t die during this period of time so we can have some more months left with him.
So, fuck you, COVID-19. And fuck how it has been put before EVERYTHING. Yes, it’s dangerous, and yes it can kill, but is it as big of a killer as cancer? No. So why is it being put before all these other way more life threatening issues? We could have caught this cancer much earlier if my grandad’s tests hadn’t been postponed for 6 months, we could have started treatment to prolong his life earlier. Do you know how hard it is knowing someone is going to die? Someone you’ve known your entire life? And you’re not even allowed to give them a cuddle. I have to stand outside, at least 2 metres apart from him, and fight every single urge in me to just reach out and hold his hand. Instead, I have to distance and watch him die and lose all these precious moments with him otherwise he can’t receive the treatment. Treatment to prolong that there’s a chance it’s too late for now anyway. Treatment that, considering what he’s going through, should be immediate, but no, instead we have to wait and just hope he doesn’t die in the meantime. Yes, oesophageal cancer is a big killer and success rates aren’t good even if caught earlier, but he could have had another couple of years and now we’re going to be lucky if we even get a few more weeks/months.
The Temperamental Introvert 