The End of Radiation

So Tristan had a total of 4 weeks radiation that ended on Monday, June 19th. The last 2 weeks of it were becoming routine. We would drive the hour ride there in silence while he slept, since the appointments were mostly early, thank God. We would wait in the lobby/waiting room for our names to be called. And when I say that this place is the opposite of a hospital, I am not lying. The lobby/waiting room has huge ceilings with all kinds of artwork hanging from the ceiling and on the walls. It definitely does not have hospital vibes. It gives off fancy hotel lobby vibes. We will usually wait anywhere from 10-40 minutes for our turn to be called. Then the radiation treatment lasts like 20 minutes while I wait in the dressing room. At the end of the treatment, they assign him the time for the next day. Then we drive an hour back to the house and usually stop for something to eat on the way back. Then I drop him off and head out to the bar to open the bar. The night before the last treatment on that Monday, June 19th, Tristan just happens to say "Wouldn't it be terrible if the machines broke on our last day of treatment?" And of course, the last day was crazy. First we're out in the lobby for over an hour. They then call us back to the dressing room and that's when we hear the guy tech saying "Yeah, the machine is broke now. Call the techs." Of course this happens right before our turn. So we wait in the dressing room an hour and a half while they fixed the machine. When his treatment was done, we had our last visit with the doctor. He then told us Tristan would be getting his next PET scan in late September. That's when they'll be able to see the effects of the radiation in Tristan's tumor. I also learned that the tumor may not actual go away. It'll just reduce in size or show inactive cancer cells. Tristan may always have that tumor since it's too close to his heart to remove. If the cells are inactive, it's doing no harm to his body. Then Tristan did the painted handprint on the board of all the kids that finish treatment. He didn't want to hit the bell there so we passed on that. We're just happy that radiation is behind us. 

We had a doctor's appointment with Tristan's oncologist that Friday after radiation ended and she cleared Tristan to work at the bar for the rest of the summer. So Tristan comes with me to the bar Tuesday-Friday from 11am-4:30pm to be my bar back/janitor/busboy. He's loving it and he gets a paycheck. We have done quite a few projects though because he always wants to stay busy. It's been really good and I have enjoyed hanging out with him. He's becoming such an amazing young man that he just makes me so proud. I love his work ethic and his attitude. He's shy but is always polite. I really don't know how I got such a good kid. He's the best. 

During Tristan's radiation treatments, my grandfather whom we called Poppy, passed away. He was 92 and he lived a great life. He lived in Peachtree City, GA and we would visit him during Thanksgiving every year. I called him weekly to check up on him and became very close to him. We knew that his health hadn't been that great but it's always a shock when someone you love passes away. The funeral brought together our entire family, especially my siblings, that haven't been together in 10+ years. We came together for Poppy, one last time. I don't know if that's the last time we'll all six be in a room together but I have a feeling it'll be the last time for awhile. Seeing everyone together was healing. We spent one night going through pictures and extremely weird things that my grandpa had kept. We really bonded again as siblings. It brought me right back to the days of us as kids, when it was "us" against "them". A lot has changed over the years and our "us" became defined differently for each of us. But there in that room, we were together again. It was 25 years ago and cracking jokes and making fun of each other. It's that feeling of being home with conversation. Before all of this stuff with Tristan, I hadn't blogged in awhile because of someone that was at the funeral. I doubted myself and my writing ability. But seeing this person that I blamed all my anger on for this long, made me realize that holding onto anger only harms me. This person is genuinely unhappy and takes it out on those around them. I can't be mad at that. That's not my fault. Plus, I feel bad for them. They're living a life the worst way possible. I have to say, the weekend felt a lot longer than it actually was because of all the experiences I had. 

Poppy's service was beautiful and everyone that spoke of my grandfather had the best things to say about him: he was kind, he was hilarious, he was brave and even went sky diving when he was 87, went Nascar racing when he was 88, and hang-gliding when he was 91. He was the coolest guy I knew. And to top it all off, even though I'm certain he had no taste buds, he LOVED my cooking. It sure made me feel good even though I'm a pretty moderate cook. He was just the best guy and I'm going to miss talking to him each week.