So my grandfather has a one in ten chance of living over the next five years. And that, my friends, is when I was wondering if I would have been happier simply not knowing that.
And I can’t say that I would have…at the end of the day I would always rather know and understand than not. That being said…I’ve been trying really hard the past couple of days to prepare myself and to keep optimistic about it all. But it’s tough. One can run only so many miles in hopes to run away from the truth. He’s dying. We all are, really, it’s just that he’s dying a lot faster than he was two years ago.
What’s really hard for me is that he’s such a young looking guy. I was always very proud of that on a genetic level. He is over 80 years-old and not only does he have a full head of hair, but doesn’t have a single white hair on his head. The man looks 60. But not much longer. Not after Chemo.
And suddenly this genetic line I was so proud of now scares the crap out of me. And me being…well, me…I can’t help but wonder if I’m going to get lung cancer when I’m older and it terrifies me. And simultaneously makes me feel like a huge selfish bastard for worrying about what will happen to me 60 years down the line because my of what is happening to my grandfather today.
I leave to Honduras in three days.
One in ten.