grandpa
this morning my grandfather had a stroke.
my dad called. he said that grandpa had a stroke in the shower at around 7am. it is now 5pm and he still hasn't even had a cat scan. it was a hemorrhagic stroke. a brain bleed. he is 80 years old. he has high blood pressure, diabetes, parkinson's and the onset of alzheimer's. i suppose this makes him a low priority on their schedules. i feel like i need to prepare myself for the worst.
it's like the scenes in movies and maudlin television shows where you say to yourself "if only i'd spent more time with him" or "i knew it would happen eventually but i just wasn't ready"... well i do wish i'd spent more time with him and i am definitely not ready.
raquel and i sat in the e.r. room with him while my dad took my grandma home to eat and rest. the way he looked when i walked in was not something i was prepared for. i don't know what i expected, but not this lifeless shell that was once my grandpa. he looked so frail... the ventilator pumping air into his lungs, the tube sucking fluids of various colors from his lungs. this couldn't be him. this couldn't be happening. not to my grandpa.
the doctor came in with his reflex hammer. first the arms: nothing. then the legs: nothing. he did that little scraping thing on the bottom of his feet. at this point he turns to me and says "in a normal person, the foot would move."
he pries open grandpas eyes and shines a light in them. they don't change. they don't move. the doctor leaves.
i don't know what to do. i can't deal with this. i love him so much and i'm not ready to say goodbye. i'm bargaining with a god i don't even believe in. please god, no. not now. please.
he might pull though. there's a chance. and i can hope.
my dad called. he said that grandpa had a stroke in the shower at around 7am. it is now 5pm and he still hasn't even had a cat scan. it was a hemorrhagic stroke. a brain bleed. he is 80 years old. he has high blood pressure, diabetes, parkinson's and the onset of alzheimer's. i suppose this makes him a low priority on their schedules. i feel like i need to prepare myself for the worst.
it's like the scenes in movies and maudlin television shows where you say to yourself "if only i'd spent more time with him" or "i knew it would happen eventually but i just wasn't ready"... well i do wish i'd spent more time with him and i am definitely not ready.
raquel and i sat in the e.r. room with him while my dad took my grandma home to eat and rest. the way he looked when i walked in was not something i was prepared for. i don't know what i expected, but not this lifeless shell that was once my grandpa. he looked so frail... the ventilator pumping air into his lungs, the tube sucking fluids of various colors from his lungs. this couldn't be him. this couldn't be happening. not to my grandpa.
the doctor came in with his reflex hammer. first the arms: nothing. then the legs: nothing. he did that little scraping thing on the bottom of his feet. at this point he turns to me and says "in a normal person, the foot would move."
he pries open grandpas eyes and shines a light in them. they don't change. they don't move. the doctor leaves.
i don't know what to do. i can't deal with this. i love him so much and i'm not ready to say goodbye. i'm bargaining with a god i don't even believe in. please god, no. not now. please.
he might pull though. there's a chance. and i can hope.