So when I'm stressed out about something, sometimes I start thinking in fragments and need to write. Here's an attempt to string it all together. Last night, the thin doctor with a ponytail leaned over my grandma in her hospital bed, with all of us watching, and asked her a hundred questions. Pain, comfort, kidneys, and then, life support. She asked her about death and then asked us about death as easily as if we were all out in the backyard flipping burgers together at a barbecue.
Now we are waiting.
There's about ten of us here, in Room 6626, some making phone calls, others walking up and down the hallway to stretch their legs, a couple of them just sit and talk about the possibilities. Everyone keeps trying to turn the heat up or get a nurse to change the thermostat but nothing really happens. We're sitting in our coats. I stand up to hold Grandma's hand, and we just stay like that for awhile. I rub the back of hers with my thumb and then she does it back. Talking is difficult right now.
My mother gets here and the aunts fill her in.
In a rush, Grandma suddenly stirs and tries to sit up and wonders what is going on. We steady her and recap what happened until she's caught up. She turns to a nurse in teal scrubs who is changing the liquids dripping in and out of her veins and asks if they gave her something to knock her out.
"Yes, last night, we gave you a relaxer." She pronounces "relaxer" slowly, as if speaking to a child.
"Well...no wonder I feel so out of it!" Grandma laughs weakly. We all laugh too. This is good if she's making jokes.
I'm out in the waiting room now, writing a blog post of all things and trying to do some homework. I can hear Uncle Jim on the phone, and there are a couple of patients with their nurses shuffling up and down the hall together slowly. I might write some more later.
As of now, we're worried about her heart and kidneys. If you could pray, my fam and I would be blessed by it.