My parents were mere adolescents when I was born. The good news is that I still have them in my life. They live about 100 meters from my home in a house that my Grandfather built. I see them nearly every day, if even for a couple of minutes, and feel guilty if I don't (Mom sees to that).
I told my folks about my diagnosis early on but spared them the details. Thankfully neither of them knows how to "google." My Mother however has been watching me with that eye that only Mothers have and as my symptoms become more obvious she becomes more motherly. (I can only eat so much).
This past Sunday I told them I needed to sit down with them about their affairs. There is a real possibility that they may outlive me and I wanted to make sure they had wills, funeral arrangements, and insurance in a place that was easy to find.
The conversation went well and I was pleased to find they were well prepared. Then they took the opportunity to turn the tables on me. They drilled me for half an hour with questions about my illness. I answered them in my best clinical voice...... then I began to crack. Then my Mom began to crumble. I went for a glass of water. I took a long drink, composed myself, and went back into the room.
My Dad said, "You always try to beat me at everything." It was an uncomfortable attempt at humor though true in every way. He taught me chess at age five and never LET me win....I had to beat him on my own.
I hugged my Mother like I always do. She wouldn't let go......I sobbed, "I'm so sorry. "
I live in dread of losing my parents but I can not bear the thought of what my death would do to them.
Whew! These things are killin' me!