Page 3 of From Best Friend to Bride
My grandmother was dying.
My sweet, caring, darling grandmother who didn’t deserve it, was dying.
And her kneejerk reaction to hearing that news was to err of the side of refusing more treatment.
Actually, to say she was ‘erring’ was a great understatement.
She’d told Dr Anthony to shove his chemotherapy up his arse.
Thank God he’d been her doctor for fifteen years and knew her well enough to not be offended by such words.
For me, it was just too much. Nana wasn’t wishy-washy. When her mind was made up,her mind was made up. She rarely strayed from her chosen path, so if she wanted to live out the rest of her days without treatment, I was almost entirely certain that was what she was going to do.
It didn’t mean we would accept it blindly, of course. Despite her nonchalance, I knew Mum was just as upset as I was, and my sister, Lucy, would be heartbroken when she found out.
How did you tell your pregnant big sister that your grandmother likely wouldn’t meet her baby?
Lucy’s greatest wish was for Nana to meet her great-granddaughter. She wanted nothing more than a picture of four generations of the Peters women, but Nana’s prognosis today gave that a fifty-fifty chance of happening.
Nobody could guess which way the pendulum would swing.
If it was Nana’s only option, I’d say that she’d make it through her own sheer will. Given that her gut instinct was to reject any further treatment, I wasn’t sure she had the gumption to make it another five months until Lucy’s baby would be born.
To me, it felt like a lot like Nana was giving up.
I knew her. I loved her. I understood her. I was sure that, in her mind, it wasn’t giving up at all, but merely accepting the hand she’d been dealt and going out on her own terms.
That didn’t mean my feelings were any less valid as her granddaughter.
I had no intention of telling her that, of course. I’d never tell her that she was wrong. I’d never do anything but support her decision, because it was her life and her choice.
I would cry and protest for my own selfish desires, but I would never dream of telling her that she was choosing the wrong option.
She might be doing just that from my perspective, but from hers, I was sure it was absolutely the right one.
That made it all worse.
There were seven stages of grief after all. Perhaps I was flirting with the first two: shock and denial.
I never imagined I’d have to grieve both her decision and her death.
I washed my face with cold water and went back out to the restaurant. Our food was just being delivered when I joined Nana and Mum at the table again, and the smile on Nana’s face at the sight of her tacos warmed my heart.
Sigh.
Regardless of my feelings, all that really mattered was how she felt. If she was tired of the treatment and wanted to die on her own terms, then I had no option but to accept her wishes, no matter how much that hurt.
All I could do was ensure that the rest of her days with us were nothing but happy ones.
“You look better, dear,” she said right before she chomped down onto her taco. “Do you feel better now?”
“Yes,” I lied, sitting down. “I’m sorry, Nana. It’s your decision what to do, and I respect that.”
“Even so, you’re allowed to be upset, Lala. Just know that whatever choice I make has not been an easy one to arrive at.” She smiled warmly at me, and her blue eyes twinkled with love. “You heard what Dr Anthony said. It can’t be cured, so I’ll spend the rest of my life undergoing these rounds of treatment that might not even prolong my life by much in the end. I don’t knowif I’m willing to waste whatever time I have left by sitting in a hospital. I’d much rather spend it with my girls.”
Mum squeezed my hand. “We’ll support you whatever you choose, Mum. And we’ll all try our best to fulfil whatever dreams you have left.”
“Really?”
