Oct 03, 2006 08:34
...doesn't even begin to describe it. I have too much going on these days. You know that saying that God never gives you more than you can handle? Yeah, well I wish he didn't trust me so much.
The main thing on my mind is my Grandma. Her health had already been failing, she's 90 for God's sakes, but then she suffered a terrible fall. She was trying to move something in the kitchen without aid of her walker. When she started to lose balance she tried to clutch at the kitchen chairs and walker all at once and went careening backwards and kind of to the side. In the process she cut her forehead open and needed 20 stitches and broke her neck. Not her spine, a bone in her neck. But at 90, and with arthritis through her entire body and congestive heart failure, not likely to recover from such an accident.
My Mom and I immediately flew down to California (much thanks to Kim, Jenn and Richard for jumping in and watching the animals and taking care of my apartment in my absence)to see her. She was in ICU for about 5 days and was moved to a private room the day before I had to come home. (or risk my job) That was evidently the last day she was really coherent. I guess I was lucky. I got my spitfire Grams back that day. She told me she loved me and that I was a good granddaughter. And further, that she always thought of me as more of her daughter than her granddaughter. When my Mom went back to work when I was little, my Grandma helped raise me, so the feeling is mutual. I think we both knew that was the last time we'd see each other.
I can say all of this now (though crying as I write it) because she IS still alive. Once she passes I will be a wreck. I am a mess already, but I will be a total trainwreck. She isn't doing well. The doctors originally gave her a good prognosis, sending her to a nursing home and hoping she may go home sometime w/nursing care. Then that changed to needing to go to the hospital due to suspected blood clots and likely hospice. (helping you die at home, basically) At that time the prognosis was about 6 months. As of the other day, the prognosis is only about a week.
I have gone through the funerals of my Grandpa and Aunt Julie Ann. I have watched my Uncle Gale pass from pancreatic cancer, and he was/is my favorite family member next to my Grandma, so that was hard. But not like this. I guess I am lucky in that I have never had a close friend pass away so I've never known that grief. But I can tell you I feel it threatening to consume me. Like there is a storm just on the horizon and it's about to hit. I mean a hurricane sized storm.
Everytime my phone rings, I jump. I keep thinking it will be my Mom calling to say she's gone. I have my phone on vibrate and am on edge waiting for it. I can't get it out of my head. I can't get away from it.
I knew she was ill, everyone knew she was ill. Going to visit her just before the fall I realized she had a deeper level of dementia, constantly forgetting things, but in spite of that I refused to focus on the future. Maybe it's my fault for not facing the fact that she's 90 years old and sick. But who wants to think of a loved one in that way? I am just at sea here, kids.
I am cranky and mean one minute and the next feel like myself, then I feel guilty for not focusing all my energy on her. It's a vicious cycle and it's harder because it's something I CANNOT control. I can't take her sickness and kick it's ass. I can't beat her age to a bloody pulp. I can't make her BETTER and I almost find it unacceptable. I have to stop writing about that now because I am at work and about to sob all over my damn desk.
Before I go...my friend Matt is designing a tattoo as a tribute to my Grandma. Her name is Jewell so I am having him design a gemstone in blue (her fave color) and her name in a font below it outlined in black w/a lighter blue to color it in. In real life Grandma hates tattoos, but I know she'd appreciate the sentiment. As with all my tattoos, it means a great deal to me and it going up my spine (along w/the other two)...and as my friend Stormy said...it's great that you put what means most to you on your spine. It's a recognition of what forms your core.
Couldn't have said it better myself.
xoxo
ange