My daughter and my grandmother, separately

My daughter woke me this morning by climbing on top of my bed and whimpering. I held her, thinking maybe she had a bad dream. She fussed and carried on for a good twenty minutes. Then she finally said, “Why didn’t you answer me?”

“I didn’t hear you!” I said.

“Oh,” she said. And she slithered off and returned to her room.

Kids are so weird.

* * *

All the crocuses are up, blooming with great enthusiasm. Are you ready for summer? It will be here in what will feel like twenty minutes.

* * *

My grandmother is almost 102 years old. About six weeks ago, she fell in her bedroom. She was taken to the emergency room, but I heard just last night that they didn’t bother to x-ray her. A day or two ago, they brought a portable x-ray machine to the house and, as it turns out, she has a fractured pelvis and a broken femur. She’s been hobbling around on these injuries for six weeks.

I am stunned by this news. She is heavily sedated for perhaps the first time in her very long life. My mother says that she may or may not hang on until her birthday, which is March 10.

I cannot even comprehend the idea that my grandmother might not boss us around forever. The worst thing is that I have a trip scheduled in the near future . . . I leave on March 13. I selfishly hope that she will hold on until I return on March 18. (I’m going to a writer’s conference in California.) It would be awful if she died while I was gone, or even if she died right before I’m supposed to leave.

And now I will wrap up this rambling post.

The end.

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My daughter and my grandmother, separately

14 thoughts on “My daughter and my grandmother, separately

  1. Summer is much further away here in Illinois – we are hoping that the excessive snow falls are finally over. My crocus’ are still about a month off…

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  2. I am so sorry that your Grandmother is in pain, I am glad that you have had her for such a wonderfully long time. That’s a gift. Your own good health is a gift to your children and their children.

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  3. They did not x-ray her in the ER?

    Um. I’d make some waves about that.

    Oh, and do you remmember Michigan? Still snowing. Still cold. Not a flower in sight.

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  4. crocuses? really?

    We have about 3 feet of snow covering everything still. And I am pretty sure it will take more than twenty minutes for it to melt. Today it is -18 degrees celsius (zero-ish Farenheit).

    And yes, kids are totally weird.

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  5. I’m so sorry to hear about your poor grandmother. You’d think an x-ray would be a top priority on a 102-year-old woman who just fell. But I’m not House.

    I hope you can find a way to speak to her or see her soon, even though she is heavily sedated. Hopefully, her pain is minimal at this point. I am so sorry you are facing such grave uncertainty.

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  6. My heart goes out to you, your Grandmother, and the family. It’s such a difficult thing to have to think about.

    Your daughter is funny. Did you ever find out what she wanted in the first place?

    I hope you have a wonderful time on your writing trip!

    On a selfish note, *sniff*pout* my crocuses are not coming up. Or, at least under the several inches of new snow and ice, I cannot see them. šŸ˜¦ I think we should start a posse and hunt down all those groundhogs that said winter would go on longer!

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  7. It is definitely hard watching awesome Grandma’s age and knowing they won’t be here forever and in the blink of an eye we will be in their place.

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  8. I know you didn’t ask, but I’m a big mouth, so I am gonna spout šŸ™‚ I spent about 10 days in December watching my Grandmother die. She was 96. I have no idea if she knew I was there or not, but I went every time I could. It was the last thing I could do for her, to go and just sit there. And it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, more difficult than giving birth 8 times, more difficult than losing the first of those children in a custody dispute. I guess what I am trying to say is that when I say “Godspeed, I know what you are going through”, I really do. I hope that whatever happens, whenever it happens, you can know that you have loved her well.

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  9. Our crocuses are still buried under several feet of snow, hibernating. We’re fighting ice jams. I hope Grandma hangs on; she sound like a strong woman, hobbling around on her injuries for so long.

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