My family history for the most part can be found here.  I just got off the phone with my mom.  She told me she’d just talked to Nana and had some “news.”  By the way she said it, I knew something was wrong.  So rather than ask what the news was, I asked, appropriately, “what’s wrong?”  She told me my Uncle Scott has cancer.  My initial reaction was to ask which one (I have 2 Uncle Scotts and 2 Uncle Garys).  Then, once my brain caught up, I realized I only have one living Uncle Scott.  Her brother.  He has smoked since before he was born, I think it would be safe to assume.  He has esophageal cancer and has known about it since the beginning of the month.  He didn’t want to tell Nana and Papa before they went on their trip to Ireland because, understandably, he didn’t want to ruin it.

I just looked up some info about esophageal cancer, because I know nothing about it.  16% of people diagnosed with it live for more than 5 years after their diagnosis.  That is scary!  I just talked to one of my best friends whose grandma died from the same cancer.  She said her grandma died about a month after being diagnosed.  It’s hard to wrap my mind around, but I’m so pessimistic at this point.  I had to stop myself from asking my mom how long they thought he had to live.  I’m hoping for the best, but expecting another funeral by the end of the year.  I’m so jaded.


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