Tough Pap Ron

Shortly after Jacob was born, my mother's father, my only living grandparent, was diagnosed with colon cancer. It was caught early, and he had a good prognosis. Additionally, he's a stubborn old man, with very set ideas of how situations will play out. While the doctor explained the potential side effects of chemo, my grandfather simply refused to believe that he was susceptible. To each ailment, he simply replied, "Nah. I don't get that." Nausea: "Nah. I don't get that." Hair loss: "Nah. I don't get that." So it went, down the list. It's amazing how attitude effects treatment success, because although I doubt chemo was a walk in the park for him, he really had no major side effects. Less than a year later, he was declared cancer free.

About a year following the cancer scare, he began to have some other strange symptoms. Massive unexplained bruising and finally, a very swollen tongue. Extensive testing showed that he had a "factor 8 deficiency." It's an rare acquired hemophilia, possibly brought on my the chemotherapy. When they finally discovered what was wrong with him, the doctor wanted to life flight him to Pittsburgh. If he were to fall and hit his head, or suffer a major cut, he would bleed to death, because Altoona did not possess the technology to save his life. His response? "I can't go to Pittsburgh now. I'm having pancakes for breakfast." That's right. In the face of death, pancakes were more important. I think that he truly did not believe that his life was in danger. Eventually, my mother convinced him to allow her to drive him to Pittsburgh, where he spent a bit of time at West Penn Hospital undergoing treatment for this extremely rare disorder. He came through it relatively unscathed, and my mom bought him a huge box of Bisquick from Sams Club for Christmas that year.

Since then, over the last three years, he's had a few other ailments, but all in all he has had good health. This September, we celebrated his 80th birthday.

Early Saturday morning, I got a call from my dad. My grandfather had suffered a massive heart attack. There was little that they could do for him, because of the history of the clotting disorder, and it did not appear that he would survive. His wife (my grandmother died 20 years ago, and he remarried) agreed that he would not want any invasive procedures, and that we should allow God's will to be done. My mom called her siblings in Pittsburgh and New York, and we all prepared for the worst. I was unable to go to the hospital until after noon, because of child care. On the way in, I called my mom's cell phone just to make sure nothing had drastically changed. She said, "Changed? Oh yes, things have changed. They removed the tube and he perked right up. He sat up and started talking. All of his vital signs are stable and he is telling the nurses that he expects to be discharged!"

When we arrived, that's exactly how things were. Granted, he looked like hell. He had just had a massive heart attack. But he was lucid. They turned the pacemaker off and he was holding his own, on his own. He told me that if they didn't discharge him Saturday night, he was "breaking out" on Sunday. My mother told him that he made her look like a fool for calling everyone and telling them that he was on his way out! :)

He is not completely out of the woods now. Really, it's a waiting game. We don't know what the next few days will bring. He signed a "do not resuscitate" order today, so we all know what his wishes are, should things take a turn for the worst. Still again, one has to wonder how much attitude plays a part in our health. He simply refuses to accept that anything health related could possibly be dire, and amazingly, he keeps on ticking.