Grandma

I'm worried tonight. I'm worried that my Grandma is not doing so well. She was checked into the hospital tonight for weakness that she has been having for the past couple weeks. Up until today it wasn't that bad, but today she was unable to walk to the mailbox this morning and then this afternoon she was unable to walk even to the kitchen from her living room. I finally convinced her to come with me to our house so that I could help her and then made it seem like her idea when I convinced her to go to the hospital. My poor Grandma lives alone and I have often been nervous about leaving her alone, but today I was especially nervous that something bad may have happened had I not coerced her into coming along with us. When we got to the hospital, they did an EKG (for her rapid heart beat) and hooked her up to oxygen (for her shortness of breath) and an IV (for her inability to eat anything and her weakness). With her medications she was unable to get her heart under control today. Come to find out, her heart problems were not what they have been in the past and so they decided to keep her and put a heart monitor on her to see about getting her back in shape. Grandma felt bad about making me have to take her (with the kids and my niece M), but it really was no problem and it gave me a sort of peace to know that she would have someone watching over her and making sure that she was OK. She is--for now. It just seems to me that in the past two weeks, her blood work has all been done and the doctors have said that they just need to run some more tests. How many tests does it take to figure out what is wrong? How long can the doctors put off telling us what is wrong? It just seems to me that they are just keeping quiet about what they know because it isn't good. Can they do that? or am I just being paranoid that something could really be really wrong?
Grandma to me has always been there. We grew up only miles from her house and even now, I have only ever lived only 8 miles from her (except when I was going to college and visited home regularly). Over the years my relationship with Grandma has changed. When I was young, she would have us over to her house and bake cookies. My favorite Grandma food was caramel popcorn and she always made popcorn balls for the kids on Halloween. My grandpa was VERY frugal and a lot of the time Grandma stuck up for us grandkids when we did such absurd things as flush the toilet. Sometimes Grandma would even draw really big baths for us kids and have all of the grandkids rotate through the bath. We would play and play.
As Grandma got older, there were things that made me realized that my Grandma wasn't perfect. She once made mashed potatoes that were a little too lumpy and my sisters and I insisted that she had put onions in the potatoes and we refused to eat the onion-potatoes. My grandma got all offended about this and insisted that we leave. She called my mom and Mom came to pick us up, but only after Grandma chewed my mom out about how disrespectful her kids were. Another time, Grandma was moving some of her quilting materials around the house and dropped an open rotary cutter on the top of her foot. I was so concerned and knew that she needed medical attention, but knowing that Grandpa would throw a Holy Fit because she did something so Stupid, she wrapped it to the best of her ability and then put a sock over it so that Grandpa couldn't tell that something was wrong. Grandma made me promise not to tell my mom, but after a while, I just couldn't keep such a terrible secret. I had wanted to dial 911 and Grandma was too afraid of what Grandpa would say that she didn't get the help that she needed. I know that it took a very long time for that cut to heal and I know that my mom gave her a LONG lecture when she found out what had happened.
Another memory that I have about Grandma was of when I was only 2 or 3 years old. A tornado had wrecked their house and they had built a new one and after the walls were freshly painted a light beige, I felt that I needed to add a finishing touch, so I drew a "picture" behind the couch on the wall. Now, what kid doesn't color on the wall at some point in time, but I know that that was the first time that I had seen my Grandma upset with me. She then ordered my uncle to give me a spanking on the butt. Years later, my cousin on my mom's side (not a relative of my Grandma) was visiting Grandma's house with our family. He happened upon some crayons and ended up coloring a picture just as beautiful as mine had been on the back of her antique hutch. She never batted an eye.
When I was little, I know that I spent a lot of time with Grandma in the barn. I was her little helper. I wouldn't so much as move when she told me to sit on the bucket against the wall and watch her milk cows. She knew just what she needed to do, and to me that was just amazing. There were so many cows and milking had so many steps. Then after all the milking was done, we would get to feed the cattle and Grandma would let me hold their bottles and then let them suck my fingers.
Then there were the constant trips to the eye doctor. Grandma had lots of eye problems (thanks Grandma!) and on a monthly basis, Mom, Grandma and I had to pile into the car and travel over an hour to the eye doctor. Even when I got into school, sometimes Mom would let me go with them. After the appointment, we would go out to eat (often to Chinese or Kentucky Fried Chicken) and then do a little shopping (usually at a craft or fabric store). Those times with Mom and Grandma made me feel special.
As I got into high school and got my driver's license, I started filling the obligation to drive my grandma. You see, Grandma was never "allowed" to get her driver's license. It made her dependant on Grandpa (and everyone else, for that matter) and he liked that control. We spent time riding in the car, but then I started visiting her and Grandpa at least every other weekend--a tradition that I would keep through college whenever I was home.
Since I have moved home after college and Mom has passed away, I have taken more responsibility for transporting my Grandma. Grandpa passed away when I was a sophomore in College. That left Grandma without a ride unless she asked. In the past year, she has added dialysis to her schedule of appointments. Three times a week, Grandma depends on other people to drive her to and from her dialysis appointment (a 20-45 minute drive one way, depending on where you are coming from with a potential four hour wait if you have to drive her both to and from). Most of the time, a county driver is able to help her out, but occasionally, she will ask a family member. My dad and I live closer to her than any of her other children or grandchildren, so a lot of the time, the responsibility falls to us. I don't mind this task. If nothing else, it gets me out of the house, but more than that, it gives me a chance to keep my Grandma in line. I tease her about the older men who she interacts with regularly and how she probably has a crush on them. (I once asked a man at the Chinese restaurant for his name and number for my Grandma. He had talked to us while we were eating and she said that he seemed very nice and that was the type of guy she would look for if she were looking, which she quickly informed me that she was not.) I make sure that she has things like milk and bread, and make sure that I do a quick physical assessment of her. I think in her own way, she does an assessment on me as well. In the nicest way, Grandma makes observations of me and the kids. She enjoys hearing about their new "tricks" and what they have been up to lately. She likes talking to the kids and saying how the previous weekend she had watched them in church more than she had paid attention to the Priest. She has even adopted my niece M as a grandchild and makes assessments of her as well.
Today started out like any other day. Last night, we had discussed the possibility of going grocery shopping with Grandma and the kids and then going out to eat to Chinese. But, this morning when I talked with her at about 10, she said that she hadn't been feeling well and that her rapid heart beat wouldn't go away even though she had taken her pills. She had called the doctor about the blood tests, but they didn't have any results for her. She said that she had tried to get the mail but was too weak. She said that she would let me know about 11 what she was going to do. I was not surprised when she called at about 10:45 and asked me to pick her up a few items if I would and that she wouldn't be able to go with and that she was disappointed that she couldn't spend any time with the kids. I confirmed that it would be no problem and I would be happy to get those things for her. At that point, I had half a mind to just go pick her up and take her to the doctor right then, but she sounded adamant that she not need to see the doctor until her dialysis appointment on Thursday. The kids and I went shopping and brought Grandma her groceries at about 1:30. When I entered the house, she was standing at the stove, hovering and holding tightly. I asked what was the matter and she said that she was just so weak and out of breath and that she had heard someone in the garage and was just checking who it was. She had this sorry kettle of beef soup on the stove that looked as though it had been heated and reheated any number of times. I asked if she had eaten. She said that she had had a little (there was still 3/4 of a can left in the kettle)---which means that she had had A LITTLE. I asked her to go sit back down in her recliner. She explained that she had just woken up and that she walked from her recliner to the stove and that is why she was so weak and out of breath. I told Grandma that she should come with me so that if she needed something she would be able to ask for it if she just sat on our couch. After that sunk in, I asked if she had her doctor's numbers around. She gave them to me and after about five minutes of scrambled thoughts (her thought process had clearly been influenced by her weakness and shortness of breath--she is usually very sharp) we made our way out of the house. We delivered the groceries to our house. Grandma stayed in the car and we called the doctor who asked her to go straight to the ER. So, that is what we did.
When I think of all of this, I think of all the things that Grandma and I have yet to talk about. I think of the book that I would like her to fill out about her childhood. I think about my kids growing up and my hopes for them and Grandma to know each other. I think of her 80th Birthday coming up this winter. I think of all these things and am saddened by the whole process. The process of living and dying. The process of getting older. The process of having children who then have children who then have children and the hopes that you will get to see what comes after you. The hopes that I, myself, will get the opportunity to see my great-grandchildren. Then, sadness takes over. I am sad for so many reasons about all of this, but most of all sad for the loss. Sad about the fact that after a person passes on, the world carries on. Before I know it, I am sad about things that have yet to happen.