Greg

It's been over three years since Greg got his diagnosis, and that's a very long time to fight stage 4 brain cancer. We just got confirmation from Dana that what were some disturbing new symptoms last week, indeed, signal the beginning of the end. I'm heartbroken for her. And simply dumbstruck when I try to imagine what it's like for Greg.

I've attached a link to their gofundme site. Not to solicit donations, but because it has today's update. It's where Dana has kept Greg's entire community updated on his progress for three years.

And below comes from an email she sent to us girls this morning. I hope I'm not overstepping by sharing. But I know her and I don't think she would mind. At the same time that her words bust open the heart, I also find they speak to the universality of how cancer effects those closest to its victims. And somehow I find a slight comfort in that.

We've had a lot of time to prepare for this. I mean, he was given a terminal diagnosis, I knew this time was coming. I thought I'd be handling this better, especially after all the shit I've had to deal with over the last few years, and how different Greg has become in a lot of ways. I've been losing him slowly and part of me is ready for this but most of me is just sad. These last few days what I've been mostly sad about is losing the life we had before Greg got cancer, like I've finally fully processed his diagnosis and am just dealing with it now. I'm also scared about what his death is going to be like and how much pain he will be in and how drawn out it will be. And of course I'm scared for may kids and what they're going to have to deal with and process their whole lives. If I can handle being a single parent for them. If I can be strong enough for them. 

https://www.gofundme.com/dhq07s?viewupdates=1&rcid=r01-151578102302-cfd07846fa9243db&utm_source=internal&utm_medium=email&utm_content=cta_button&utm_campaign=upd_n