My mother-in-law passed in the summer of ’09. She had been sick for a long time. That stupid cancer. Her diagnosis had been quick and treatment started immediately. The doctor said it was inflammatory breast cancer. Less than 2% of those diagnosed with this type of cancer live to 5 years.
The first 2 years went by quickly and it seemed to be going well, considering. The last 2 years were painful to watch. The gradual decline. The inevitable outcome. She didn’t make it.
PaPa just wasn’t the same after his daughter died. He thought she was getting better. Your kids aren’t supposed to die before you. It isn’t natural. The loss was too much for him. After all, PaPa had just turned 91. He and his wife had recently moved into the nursing home, assisted living. Overall, he was in good health for his age. Less than 4 months after his daughter passed, PaPa dies more than likely from a broken heart.
My mother hadn’t been feeling well. Pain in her lower back and hip she said. It was slowing her down. She had just turned 71 and seemingly healthy. The doctor ordered an MRI and the result was bone cancer. It turned out to be a secondary cancer. She had discovered a lump some 15 years before and didn’t tell a soul. She just acted as if everything was fine. She went about her business, no worries. Now the cancer was everywhere. It started in her breast. Then traveled to her bones and lungs. Less than 2 months later she was gone.