For Grandma...
I'm in New York. Yesterday I called up my dad back in Minnesota to wish him a happy thanksgiving. He tells me he had just spent the last 36 hours in the hospital with his mother/my Granny. She had surgery last weekend, and it turns out to have had no effect. Her doctor said they've done all they could and now it's only a matter of time.
So my dad tells me to email my professors because I'll need to fly home to Minnesota in the next week to catch her funeral. I asked to fly back now to see her, but they don't want me to come back now. (in their minds I'm guessing they're concerned with school and/or the money of flying in, flying out, and flying back. Besides, due to the Northwest bankrupcy, most of the flights back from NY to MN are sold out) (or maybe its because my Grandma's the type to have guilt eat her from the inside out knowing I made such a trip just for her)
My Grandma and I are very very close. We talk every week and still send card/letters frequently. This is really rough for me, particularly considering I am 30,000 miles away, alone. I did manage to talk to her today though. She's a fighter. The doctors gave her until noon today at absolute max, and I talked to her at 3:30 PM. It's 4:00AM now in Minneapolis and she's still with us, so she's still defying the odds.
She had a heart-attack back in '91 and the doctors said she there's no way she'd live passed '95 and she's still here. The last of eight children by over a decade. Lived in the same house she was born in for all but eight years of her life and the last two. Last person from her old neighborhood still alive. And when she finally moved to Point Plesant Heights two years ago, she made new friends easily. Survives by my Grandpa, who for the past year has been mentally deteriorating so fast they can't tell if it's altzseimers or dementia. He was still stable enough to visit her two days ago. He did ask "how long has she been here" about twenty times. He visited while she was asleep. He tucked her in and held her hand for a few hours while he was there.
One of my favorite memories:
I still have this one get-well card my grandma sent me when I was in forth grade. I got real sick one morning, and it was storming outside. My grandpa was going to drive me to school that morning, but my mom called him (She worked the early shift at the hospital) and told him not to come because I was sick. So that morning my grandma stops by the 24 hour walgreens, picks me up a get well card, and catches the mailman and gives him the card to get to me. I get it that afternoon and the front has a hamster in a raincoat looking sad in the rain. On the inside it shows him smiling holding his rain hat in one had and a dozen daisies in the other saying "here's hoping you have sunny days again soon."
My grandma and I still send cards and letters to each other on the regular. The last one she sent me has a rooster on the front, and the inside says "How Doodle You Do?"
We also talk at least once a week. It's one of my favorite things to do. No-one sounds more excited to talk to me, and even with 30,000 miles between us I feel closer to her than ever each time I talk to her.
So she's still alive. The family back home is, in shifts, by her side at all times in the hospital. They tell me the end is imminent. Part of me thinks she'll defy the odds again and make it to at least Christmas and be able to come home.
If any of you could just say a prayer for Mrs. Irene Kangas, loving grandmother, Patsy Cline fan, Tic-Tac enthusiest and maker of the finest pigroies in North America, it would be appreciated.
So my dad tells me to email my professors because I'll need to fly home to Minnesota in the next week to catch her funeral. I asked to fly back now to see her, but they don't want me to come back now. (in their minds I'm guessing they're concerned with school and/or the money of flying in, flying out, and flying back. Besides, due to the Northwest bankrupcy, most of the flights back from NY to MN are sold out) (or maybe its because my Grandma's the type to have guilt eat her from the inside out knowing I made such a trip just for her)
My Grandma and I are very very close. We talk every week and still send card/letters frequently. This is really rough for me, particularly considering I am 30,000 miles away, alone. I did manage to talk to her today though. She's a fighter. The doctors gave her until noon today at absolute max, and I talked to her at 3:30 PM. It's 4:00AM now in Minneapolis and she's still with us, so she's still defying the odds.
She had a heart-attack back in '91 and the doctors said she there's no way she'd live passed '95 and she's still here. The last of eight children by over a decade. Lived in the same house she was born in for all but eight years of her life and the last two. Last person from her old neighborhood still alive. And when she finally moved to Point Plesant Heights two years ago, she made new friends easily. Survives by my Grandpa, who for the past year has been mentally deteriorating so fast they can't tell if it's altzseimers or dementia. He was still stable enough to visit her two days ago. He did ask "how long has she been here" about twenty times. He visited while she was asleep. He tucked her in and held her hand for a few hours while he was there.
One of my favorite memories:
I still have this one get-well card my grandma sent me when I was in forth grade. I got real sick one morning, and it was storming outside. My grandpa was going to drive me to school that morning, but my mom called him (She worked the early shift at the hospital) and told him not to come because I was sick. So that morning my grandma stops by the 24 hour walgreens, picks me up a get well card, and catches the mailman and gives him the card to get to me. I get it that afternoon and the front has a hamster in a raincoat looking sad in the rain. On the inside it shows him smiling holding his rain hat in one had and a dozen daisies in the other saying "here's hoping you have sunny days again soon."
My grandma and I still send cards and letters to each other on the regular. The last one she sent me has a rooster on the front, and the inside says "How Doodle You Do?"
We also talk at least once a week. It's one of my favorite things to do. No-one sounds more excited to talk to me, and even with 30,000 miles between us I feel closer to her than ever each time I talk to her.
So she's still alive. The family back home is, in shifts, by her side at all times in the hospital. They tell me the end is imminent. Part of me thinks she'll defy the odds again and make it to at least Christmas and be able to come home.
If any of you could just say a prayer for Mrs. Irene Kangas, loving grandmother, Patsy Cline fan, Tic-Tac enthusiest and maker of the finest pigroies in North America, it would be appreciated.