He was my Hero

He Was My Hero My hero has always been my grandfather. I prefer not to use his name in respect. He was always spoiling me and always taking me places that he had never taken me before. He taught me many life lessons and gave me great insights that I hold on close to this day. He always seemed to have a big appetite. I could never picture him having disgust for food or being sick, but when the symptoms started, I got worried. Usually, at the family cookouts, he would be the one always cooking the home made french fries and always winning the amateur eating contests we held. The first time I noticed he was not eating as much was when my grandmother had gone to Mississippi to visit relatives from her side of the family. He had been home alone most of the time she was gone, except for the days I would go over to check on him and see if he was okay. I noticed he was not eating like he normally did: he had a total change of appetite. It was like he was an entirely different person. I offered to cook him some of his favorite foods, but he constantly turned every one down. Time after time he said “No thanks, I’m not hungry.” Ift was starting to puzzle me. So, I told my mother about it, and she called my grandmother who had also suspected something. After about a week of his constant refusal of food, my grandmother came home early from her trip to Mississippi because she was worried about him. My grandfather did not like going to a hospital or seeing doctors, but my grandmother made him go. After doing numerous tests at the hospital, they found that he had pancreatic cancer. Once the news got to me, my heart instantly sank. However, I still had hope for him with all the new treatments for cancer, but I still wasn’t completely worry-free. We went to the Cancer Treatment Centers of America at Southwestern Regional Medical Center in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and started treatment. We stayed in a nearby hotel because it would’ve been more expensive to go back and forth. At first things started to get better, he started drinking a protein shake a couple times a day. He got the vitamins he needed that he was not getting with the lack of food. He went to a couple chemo treatments and started to regain some of his strength that was lost. He even told me more stories of his past that he had kept a secret from everyone. I thought he was telling me these stories to get his mind off the pain, but I later learned it was for a different reason. He and I both knew he was dying, and as hard as it was to grip that reality, we had to. After another week of being with my grandfather, I noticed a change. He started to get worse, he was not as energetic or himself anymore. We took him over to the hospital and asked them if they knew what was happening to him. So, they did more tests and discovered that the cancer was in its final stage. Unfortunately, there was no surgery that could remove the cancer and he had to live with it. The doctors said that he would live for another six months with the help of an expensive medicine that they had given him. The odd thing about the medicine was that it didn’t allow him to go in the sun. At that time, I was starting to realize that medicine can’t heal everything, and that I had to make the best of the time I had left with him. We all agreed to chip in for the medicine and we went back to St. Louis. When we got back, I decided I wanted to stay with him at his house to take care of him until it was his time to go. I didn’t care how long he had left, I just wanted to stay with him. I stayed with him for a couple weeks, took care of him, and gave him his medicine when he needed it. At first, the medicine was working fine. He was starting to be himself again, although he was still not eating. I continued to stay with him every day, and talk to him about the things that were going on in town since he was not allowed in the sun. I talked with him about how excited I was to get my license, though he did not like the idea because it meant I was growing up. I continued to stay with him for another week until his health started to fail, and the light was starting to go out of his eyes. That was when my grandmother told me that I needed to go home and see my family, so I did. The next day I received a call from my grandmother saying that my grandfather was in the hospital again. I told my mother, and we went to the hospital shortly after she had called to see him. The car ride there was silent. My mother is a very emotional person, yet she did not cry once. I think it was because we were used to bad news by then, and she had expected this to happen too. Outside his hospital room you had to put a mask on before entering. It made me feel as if I was on the show M*A*S*H*, and that scared me a lot. I had never had to put a mask on before going to visit anyone else in the hospital before. That was when I knew that things were not good. When we entered the room my grandfather’s eyes lit up. Though he could not move really, I knew he wanted to. He was the kind of person that would always greet someone with a hug, as well as a smile when they came into the room. When I saw all the machines they had on him this time, my eyes started to tear up. All I could keep thinking in my head was to be strong, and do not let him see that I am upset. I went to his bedside and gave him a light hug because he looked so fragile I was afraid I was going to hurt him. I could not talk much, because if I did I was afraid I was going to start crying, and I know he hates to see anyone cry. While I was giving my grandfather a hug my mother and grandmother were whispering about something, so I took my mother outside the room for a minute to ask what they had said. The doctor had talked to my grandmother before we had arrived there, and said that my grandfather only had a matter of days to live. That was when the tears started rolling down my face, but it was okay because my grandfather couldn’t see me cry now. All that I could think of was that I had to stay there with him as much as I possibly could. So I cleared my eyes up and went back into the room. My grandfather still had the same look on his face as he did before I left. He knew what was coming, the doctor must have told him as well. Yet, he did not look scared. It looked like he was just waiting for the moment to come. I went up to his bedside again and gave him another small hug, then pulled one of the chairs next to his bed, and held his hand. The hospital room from then on was silent. I kept looking at my grandfather, just waiting for him to say something. He just kept looking around the room at everyone without saying a word. This lasted for about four hours, until finally he looked at me and said, “I love you”. That was the last thing I ever heard my grandfather say. As we both realized that he was about to die, I asked everyone else to leave the hospital room so I could talk to him alone. When everyone had left the room, I said, “I love you too, you have been my favorite person in the world since I met you, you have given me great inspiration in an innumerous number of ways. You are my hero”. About a half hour later, he drew his last breath, and was off to the heavens. He was my hero.