Nope, I'm doing anything but! Things around here have been really crazy, and I've come to the conclusion that I need a day-runner so that I can actually fit "brush your teeth" in there somewhere during the week. That's actually NOT a funny joke, since right now I'm tasting metal from my sliver cap that is covering a root-canaled tooth I recently had fixed. Just part of my life as a freeway as of late.
It all began two Fridays ago. I was on my way home from work to pack my bags and head to my sweetie's house for the weekend. On the way (10 minute drive), I turned on my phone, saw that I had a message from my mother, and listened to my voicemail to discover that my Grammy
had had a fall. (That's her in the center, with my mother and auntie flanking her.) They were taking her, by ambulance, to the hospital. Not sure which hospital, but they'd call when they were sure. OK, fine, I can deal with this. I'm gonna be a big girl, I'll deal with it.
Well, then, just as I pull into the driveway, I realize that my dad must have pulled in the driveway in a hurry, cause he's nose in, not out, like he usually does (for a quick getaway????). Anyway, as I'm contemplating this, dear old dad calls my cell phone, asking where I am. I tell him I just pulled up, and he says not to worry, not to come to the hospital, they are still waiting for her to go to X-ray to get the final results, but she probably broke her hip.
OK, I'm still gonna be a big girl, I can handle this. No problem.
BUT! Nowhere in either of these phone calls did anyone prepare me for what I would find when I walked in the house.BLOOD
, lots of it, all over the foot of the stairs.
Nope, I'm just a baby, worried about my Grammy from. That. Moment. On.
I called Courtney (sweetie) and told him it might be a while before I got there, and why. He, of course, says take your time, do what you need to do, etc, etc.
I then proceed to clean up my sweet, sweet Grammy's blood off the steps. I last about two seconds before I start bawling uncontrollably.
My Grammy is the ROCK of this family. She holds us all together. She gives us all purpose for being here, she makes us feel like we should be better people in this world because she is such an incredible lady. She is kind, gentle, loving, wise, and stubborn as hell (she has earned the right). She's 98, and when she says something, you'd BEST listen, just cause. I mean, heck, she's 98! Before two Fridays ago, she at three meals and two snacks a day, read voraciously (books on tape 'cause she's legally bling), went for an afternoon stroll most days, and kept us all in line. She devours CNN and all things political, and calls the President "that young man." (I'd like to call him a few other choice words, but she'd fuss at me for it.)
Since last Friday, however, she has been struggling to get back to herself. She did okay with the break itself, but the surgery was hard on her. She's never had a broken bone before, or surgery - besides those two C-section babies, and took NO medication other than eye drops for glaucoma before this whole thing. Because of that, it took her about 5 days to fully wake up from the surgery. I was not happy with that at all. Apparently, Oxycontin, a pain medication that apparently helps lots of people, is also famous for giving older people a hard time. I mean, she didn't know what day it was, she didn't remember that she broke her hip, she didn't even recognize me a couple times when I showed up to see her. Very upsetting.
And then, just when she was getting back to herself, I caught a cold, so haven't been in to see her until today. Today they moved her to the extended nursing portion of the hospital. There she will be able to get physical therapy each day, and it's a much brighter, happier place than the main part of the hospital. But, today, when I showed up to see her, she was asleep. So, I sat on the couches in the lobby knitting a swatch for my Sasha skirt that I want to start (and I'm hoping the SKC will knit along with me).
I will try my luck again tomorrow, and Thursday The Boy will get to see her. He has been asking and asking for her, doesn't understand why she can't come home, and is very upset that the total number of people in this house has dropped to only 4 (plus one cat). He is personally in heaven when the place is packed to the gills!
So, forgive my absence (as if you've been looking and looking for me), and I hope to get back to "normal" soon. For now, I'll be trying to squeeze visiting hours into my already packed schedule, and will resolve to be OK with the fact that I will never loose those last 10 pounds (while thanking my lucky stars that I found someone who appreciates my curves!!)