write like you're running out of time

So, tonight was Grandma's visitation. It was one of those nice, mostly awkward deals where I hardly knew anybody who came so I didn't talk to anybody. Miracle of miracles, all of my dad's siblings were civil and - dare I say it - nice to each other the entire time. Quite a change from the past couple weeks when a couple of them could barely stand to be in the same room as the others.

Funeral's tomorrow, and Saturday my dad and his siblings are supposedly getting together to go through some of Grandma's things - probably her artwork, too - to see what everyone wants and what-not. I have a feeling the civil attitudes are going to dissipate fairly quickly then.

You know what, world?



I honestly do not give a fuck about Whitney Houston's death right now. Excuse me if I believe my grandmother dying is more important.

It's been nine months since my grandfather went into the nursing home, and I think I'm finally starting to come to terms with the fact that he's going to be staying there permanently. I'm pretty much just taking it one day at a time and trying to visit him as often as I can, partially because he's still with it enough that he called me out on it.

But now more shit's rolling downhill towards my family.

My grandmother (Dad's mom) has been having problems with confusion lately, and we thought she was having mini-strokes or something. She ended up going to the emergency room last week and was diagnosed with a UTI; apparently those can cause confusion in elderly patients. CAT scan showed no evidence of a stroke of any kind, she was sent home with antibiotics, everything's fine.

Yeah, not so much. Early Sunday morning Grandma thought she had a stroke or something and ended up falling in her bedroom and hitting her head on her bedroom door, hard enough that the doorknob went through the adjacent wall. For some reason I'm not clear on she waited a few hours to call one of my aunts who thankfully summoned the ambulance and Grandma was taken to the hospital. Again they did a CAT scan and again there was no evidence of a stroke, but they did find an epidural hematoma, probably from when she hit her head on the door. By Sunday night it had gotten bad enough that she was having trouble swallowing, and it's just gotten worse from there. An MRI was done today and according to that she did suffer a stroke at the base of her brain. From what Dad's told me and what I've heard him tell Mom Grandma's still confused, her speech is really slurred, she's black and blue and the doctor's not very optimistic that she's going to get much better. In fact, tonight when I came home from work and I asked how Grandma was doing Dad said she wasn't doing too well. And Mom mentioned something about how most of the family would probably prefer having our pastor handle the funeral instead of the pastor of the church one of my other aunts goes to. So to me it goes without saying what her chances are at this point.

And this whole time all I can think is that I can't go through this again, not with another grandma. Seven years ago in the fall we were playing a similar waiting game, with my grandma on my mom's side. Grandma is a healthy, active, vibrant woman; she's painted and sketched all of her life, and the last time I was at her house she had a painting she was working on. It wasn't supposed to happen like this, damnit!

Well, the funeral was today. Surprisingly I haven't cried as much as I thought I would over this. I did some crying last night (at home, after I went to bed). At the funeral I didn't start crying until the soloist sang "In the Garden" (and I now have another song to add to my list of "Sad, Depressing, Weepy Songs"), and later I kinda-sorta broke down in the women's restroom at the church.

I really feel sorry for my cousin Chase. She's only three, and last night and today her dad and her grandparents (my aunt and uncle) were trying to explain to her what was going on. They told her that Great-Grandma was "sleeping" because she had been "sick", and I think they told her she wasn't going to wake up. But I'm not sure if Chase really got that Grandma wasn't going to be coming home ever again. It's a good thing that Grandma's casket being lowered into the ground wasn't part of the service, because I have no idea how they would have explained that to Chase.

And finally, it needs to be required that a death certificate should be proofread at least twice before it is signed. Because whoever filled out my grandmother's put in that she was male, not female. So they're going to have to go back and reissue the thing with the correct information.

Either that, or dig up Grandma and perform a sex change operation. My apologies for the gallows humor.

She's gone.

Thank God.

My grandmother is dying.

Last week my grandmother went to the hospital complaining of flu-like symptoms and unable to keep food down. Monday she had surgery to remove a stone in her colon or intestine; she'd had her gallbladder removed, but apparently in rare cases your body can still create stones.

Last night/early this morning she took a turn for the worse. She coded, but they were able to bring her back. She's on a respirator right now but they're not sure how long she was without a pulse for, so there's a question of how much brain damage there might be. It doesn't look good.

So I'm asking all those inclined to send prayers her way, and if not prayers then good wishes. Thanks.

*goes back to wishing the roofers would take it easy and the dog would shut up*