So naturally, I've had the chance to spend a good amount of time with my lovely Nana. You may have read the last post that centered around her, so some of you may or may not already be privy to this one-of-a-kind gem. And while she is still the larger-than-life geriatric, things have changed a bit...she thinks she's dying.
Yes, we have moved on from simply complaining about inane things like the price of oranges, to full on acceptance of death's cruel embrace. Let me walk you through how this whole thing unfolded.
About a month ago, my mother had her knee replaced. This came with things like in-house physical and occupational therapy, a walker, and later a cane. And God bless my mother, she never complained, never wanted any help, and basically was a saint about the whole thing. Then, about two weeks ago, in the throws of my mother's recovery, my grandmother fell in the driveway coming home from "beeno"...or to the lay person "bingo." Now, I understand that an 83-year-old woman falling on a drive way in the winter is a pretty scary thing. And to be honest, we were all concerned a bit, but the next day she was walking around fine and was even laughing about her spill.
Now, over the last couple of weeks, Nana has progressed from "oh, I'm fine, dear" to "I'm ready to go." Inexplicably, we went from laughing about her fall, to:
"I think I have a black and blue,"
to "I think something is broken,"
to "I need to go the the emergency room RIGHT NOW...but I don't want Judy to drive me because of her knee, and I dont' want to be a bother, I'll just call an ambulance...but if you or your father don't mind driving me, that would be fine...I just don't want to be a bother."
Amazing.
So, she comes back from the doctor and the diagnosis was "a pinched nerve..maybe." No cracks, no breaks, not even a visible bruise. Just some discomfort for the normal person. I will now tell you that I went the next three days not seeing my grandmother even though we live in the same house. Because walking up the stairs is "just too much" for her. I DID, however, get to go to the drug store and get her stool softener and other medications though. That was great picking that up. Now, you may be wondering why I brought up my mother's knee replacement earlier. Well, dear reader, Nangus has utilized all of my mother's walking aides, including her cane AND her walker, because things are just getting to be too much for her to walk around the basement. And any attempt by my mother to explain to her that she's fine and that she's "just feeling sorry for herself" (MY MOTHER'S WORDS...NOT MINE!!) are met with "Well, I guess I'll just go to 'the home.'"
I will go on record and tell you that I love this woman. My siblings and I seriously feel that she is the female Keith Richards and cannot be killed by conventional weaponry. The Queen Mother of Guilt will forever go on muttering about death and pain, and I can't wait to see what she has my mother send me out for next. Hopefully diapers.
Oh, just in case you were wondering what one does all day down when you're near death, can't poop, and can't drive. My dear grandmother, who has been pretending to be an invalid the past week is, no word of a lie, currently at the hair dresser. Because if the Grim Reaper comes a knockin', you better have well-quaffed old-lady hair.
Prunes and plums,
R Von D
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