While you perhaps were taking in the Canada Day festivities in St. Paul, Elk Point, or any other community in the area, I spent that day on the road.
I first travelled to Saskatoon to meet up with my parents, and then I travelled with them to Naicam, a very small Saskatchewan town that is perhaps unknown to most of you. Waiting for us there was my Grandpa, whom I hadn’t seen for close to two years.
The last time I saw Lloyd Amundson was in a hospital room at the University of Saskatchewan in August of 2013. The afternoon we visited followed a bombshell of a morning for him. On that day he was diagnosed with lung cancer.
Obviously any form of cancer is treacherous.
When I saw him that day, my family and I were taken aback by the weight he had lost and the problems he was having with his speech. His condition was eye-opening, considering he looked to be in reasonably good health when we visited him and my grandmother the previous Christmas.
While I was not able to again visit my Grandpa until a few days ago, my parents and my sisters were able to head to his neck of the woods several times.
Every time I had a phone conversation with my Mom or Dad following one of these visits, they would tell me that his condition was worsening. For whatever reason, I never felt compelled to ask for details as to in what specific ways my Grandpa’s health was going downhill.
I was naďve to assume that a slurred speech and being dramatically underweight would be the extent of my grandfather’s issues. I was in for quite a shock.
Unfortunately, his condition has devolved to a point that he is completely reliant on a suction machine. The cancer has spread to his mouth. It has caused him to produce saliva to extreme excess. He needs to use this machine to clear up the saliva in order to make it possible to consume food or drinks, and he can no longer eat solid foods. I was at his house for over three days, and I am not exaggerating when I write that the whirring noises of that machine echoed through the house for half of that visit.
The rest of the time, he had his hands pressed against his cheeks. He did so to try and numb the excruciating pain and discomfort in his mouth. It was tough to hear the painkiller drugs he was prescribed were having a very minimal effect.
The second day of our visit, I pulled my Mom aside and told her about how tough it was for me to see Grandpa this way. I told her that it was sad that I really couldn’t engage him in any sort of meaningful way. In addition to his difficulty speaking, he was in a doze-like state for large portions of the day while he touched his cheeks.
There were many things I wanted to talk with him about. Since I last saw him in 2013, I had graduated from university, completed successful internships, participated in great hockey broadcasting opportunities, and landed a job here at the Journal.
I also wanted to hear about what he has been up to in the past two years. Unfortunately, all I could really ask him was, “How are you feeling today? Did you sleep alright last night?”
Despite the visit not being what I envisioned, I am very happy I went. My Grandpa was overcome with emotion when we left his house at the end of our visit. He cried many tears as he hugged each of us goodbye. He was so grateful that we came down to be with him. It was a great feeling for us to have given him some happiness.
I also valued the visit because I knew that there won’t be many more opportunities for me to see him again.
I am not too sure who first said the quote: “Cherish every moment and every person in your life, because you never know when the last time you will see someone.” I think this is advice people should try to hold near and dear to their heart at all times. I urge you not to view family events or commitments as a burden or an inconvenience, but instead as one of the greatest gifts of all.
