Thursday evening, my grandma took a tumble. While she's a mostly spry elderly lady in her 80's, falls still do the same damage that they would to anyone who has reached the years where your body degenerates due to nothing more than age. My father monitored her over night, something that I have to admit baffles me considering his recent history of being unreliable and completely self-absorbed, but hey, why crap on a good thing? He says that the stay was uneventful and despite being tired, she seemed fine.
Today, on the way to my son's birthday party (oh, yes, did I mention today was my son's second birthday party?). His birthday isn't until June 27th but we did a double party with the husband's sister. In-laws, toddler and infant, pool. It was quite the event. Needless to say, it was already a stressful evening for all of us (sister-in-law and her husband included.) We have a lot of drama queens in our family on both sides. The drama queens that will cold shoulder you for no reason and the side that will ignore any and every stressful experience by sticking their heads in the sand until it either goes away or it is so big that it literally can't be ignored.
But back to my story: We're driving down Czech Hall road and I've finally pumped myself up for the day when I notice that I've missed a few calls from my stepmother, Mary. I call back immediately, as it is rare that my stepmother calls me ever, and she quickly hands the phone over to my dad who tells me that they've taken grandma to Baptist Hospital to have her checked out because she has fallen an additional three times and isn't doing well.
Here's where it gets tricky. You see, her eldest son, Jim, lives with her. In fact, this person has never lived anywhere but with his mother. I take that back, he MIGHT have lived in a dormitory during college... when he got a degree that he currently has no use for. Anyways, he has been coddled his entire life because he was a premie and is mostly blind in one eye and somewhat blind in the other. He sits at his mother's house in his freakin' 60's without a wife or children or boyfriend or anything and plays on his computer all day. He's also incredibly self-important and suffers from "pseudo-intelligence." This is the phrase we use for people who think they are very smart but lack any and all common sense or ...well, smarts... at all. Perhaps it's cruel for me to speak that way about another adult. Maybe it's libel. But here's the thing, I'm pretty sure in order for it to be libel it would have to be untrue and none of it is. To put the last straw down, during this illness with my grandmother, he was so fucking useless that he couldn't even take care of her for a few days so that she wasn't put in a position as weak as she was to fall in the first place. He didn't try to bring her something to eat or drink. He didn't help her to the restroom or to get comfortable or ask if she needed anything. No, he kept expecting the world to revolve around him and I will honestly and completely be surprised if her fall had nothing to do with getting up to do something for her dear precious son. What is so infuriating about this, beyond the above in general, is that when/if grandma does recover (she has a subdural hematoma a.k.a. brain bleed and two broken ribs, so who knows what the chances of recovery are) he will go back into his little bubble of idiocy and completely ruin any chance grandma has to be normal again. If he cared in the tiniest measurable way, he would use his damn smarts to recognize that he is in so far over his head that he needs help. Either professional or familial. Either way, he can't be trusted to take care of her and an emotionally healthy human being can recognize their limits, despite not necessarily liking them.
So, yes. My grandmother is in the hospital. I'm terrified that any minute now, I'm going to get a phone call that she's slipped into a coma or has passed away. I don't know what the chances are because my dad isn't the most talented communicator I know and so all I hear are "subdural hematoma" and "broken ribs." Before that, I heard "CT scan." I just need some kind of peace of mind because honestly, as selfish as the following will sound: I am not ready to bury my grandmother.
She was and is the world to me and my children. I'm not ready to explain to my six year old that he can't go visit his grandmother anymore because she isn't here. I'm not ready to wipe the tears from his eyes while my heart is grieving myself. I will do it, because if nothing else I am a damn good mother, but I am just not ready. I guess that is a really stupid thing to mention though because I'm 99% sure that you can't really prepare for death anyways.
But for now, I'm going to curl in bed next to my husband with a book and hope that either a) one of the pills I took will kick in or b) the book will lull me into a relaxation mode that knocks me out.
If anyone out there is reading this, please send a thought out to Grandma Dorothy. I know you don't know who she is but she is almost my entire world. Light a candle, say a prayer, send out cosmic wishes, whatever you do. Just think of her tonight or whenever you read this. She deserves all of them and I will be better for having known her.
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