Why?
I lay in bed, twisting and turning. My thoughts keep me awake, they keep active and make me sad. I did not ask for it, nor did I think of it. I just thought it was all over and done. Like "been there, done that". It took her over a year to get back to her own home, her own bed. It took a lot of strength to come back.
When I saw her, laying in that hospital bed, tubes all over her, I silently cried. I knew she was strong. She just came home from from the hospital. She got the wrong medicines and it went totally wrong. She came into another world, sometimes the past living up, sometimes it just sounded like a nightmare. When I got a call at work that they found a place for her in the hospital, I rushed over. There she sat next to me.
"Look out for those people on the hood of the car!" she yelled at me. I just went along, since it would only make her mad if I did not go along with her. "Those kids, all that graffiti on the buildings" she shook her head. It was a long 15 minute ride. But I was so happy that she would be safe there. Safe from herself, safe from the world she lived in. Though at moments, she knew it all. She knew all that had happened, with blanks from where she had her other thoughts again.
After a time, the drugs wore off and the effects they had were gone. So she could go home again. She was strong, she survived. I was proud of her, of what she had been through. She never talks about WWII, but sometimes she lived in it again. Hearing her talk about it, shivers running down my spine.
So she was home again. The worries flowed away and I felt at ease again. Then, a few days later, she got a stroke. Luckily she had an emergency button, but it took her over 2 hours to finally realise she needed to press it. So back to the hospital. The next morning my mum called me. I arranged a co-worker to fill in for me, I had to see her. I never had a strong bond with her, but that never meant I did not love her. Seeing her, with those tubes, hearing the machines around her. I felt I lost her. With all she had gone through before, I never could hope she was strong enough to pull it through. But she went from worse to bad... Bit by bit she came back to us. Then, she got a broken bed and fell on the floor. So she got bruised. And again, she came back. She is a fighter, someone to be proud of. She is more stubborn that I am, maybe that is why we never got along so well.
So she had to rehabilitate. She did not like the place she had to do it, and it was surely no fun. But we were glad that she was taken care off. After a while she made some friends. She began to help the staff with the coffee servings and all. I was very happy when I heard that she could finally come home. It had taken her a year, hospital and rehabilitation and all, but she made it.
But the stroke was not all. They discovered a spot on her lungs when they compared old and new Xrays. She had a small tumor, which was growing rapidly. They had to cut off a part of her lung. It was cancer. After the surgery she had some more tests and all was well.
She visitied our relatives in the States last year. Together with my mum she went on vacation. She did it all.
And now, a year later, her other lung has a spot. She is weaker than she was. There will be more tests on what it is, but just writing this, gives me tears to my eyes.
She is my 84 year old grandma, the only one I have left. She is....well, I will not say going away, but a new operation, again surgery..... The chances of her surviving the surgery last time were small, so I guess they are even smaller now... I want to think positive, but I also think of the pain she can get. Cancer is such an ugly thing. I went through it before, with the mother of my boyfriend. I know the pain that goes with it. I just want to save her from that pain. I guess that I would rather see her peacefully die in her sleep than dying because the cancer is winning.
I wish I could do something, but I can't. It makes me feel sad inside. It makes me get dreams and nightmares, it makes me wonder if there is a God. I am raised as a Catholic, but I lost my faith a long time ago. So many things that have happened to me, so many people I knew and loved that I had to say goodbye to....
I lay in bed, twisting and turning. My thoughts keep me awake, they keep active and make me sad. I did not ask for it, nor did I think of it. I just thought it was all over and done. Like "been there, done that". It took her over a year to get back to her own home, her own bed. It took a lot of strength to come back.
When I saw her, laying in that hospital bed, tubes all over her, I silently cried. I knew she was strong. She just came home from from the hospital. She got the wrong medicines and it went totally wrong. She came into another world, sometimes the past living up, sometimes it just sounded like a nightmare. When I got a call at work that they found a place for her in the hospital, I rushed over. There she sat next to me.
"Look out for those people on the hood of the car!" she yelled at me. I just went along, since it would only make her mad if I did not go along with her. "Those kids, all that graffiti on the buildings" she shook her head. It was a long 15 minute ride. But I was so happy that she would be safe there. Safe from herself, safe from the world she lived in. Though at moments, she knew it all. She knew all that had happened, with blanks from where she had her other thoughts again.
After a time, the drugs wore off and the effects they had were gone. So she could go home again. She was strong, she survived. I was proud of her, of what she had been through. She never talks about WWII, but sometimes she lived in it again. Hearing her talk about it, shivers running down my spine.
So she was home again. The worries flowed away and I felt at ease again. Then, a few days later, she got a stroke. Luckily she had an emergency button, but it took her over 2 hours to finally realise she needed to press it. So back to the hospital. The next morning my mum called me. I arranged a co-worker to fill in for me, I had to see her. I never had a strong bond with her, but that never meant I did not love her. Seeing her, with those tubes, hearing the machines around her. I felt I lost her. With all she had gone through before, I never could hope she was strong enough to pull it through. But she went from worse to bad... Bit by bit she came back to us. Then, she got a broken bed and fell on the floor. So she got bruised. And again, she came back. She is a fighter, someone to be proud of. She is more stubborn that I am, maybe that is why we never got along so well.
So she had to rehabilitate. She did not like the place she had to do it, and it was surely no fun. But we were glad that she was taken care off. After a while she made some friends. She began to help the staff with the coffee servings and all. I was very happy when I heard that she could finally come home. It had taken her a year, hospital and rehabilitation and all, but she made it.
But the stroke was not all. They discovered a spot on her lungs when they compared old and new Xrays. She had a small tumor, which was growing rapidly. They had to cut off a part of her lung. It was cancer. After the surgery she had some more tests and all was well.
She visitied our relatives in the States last year. Together with my mum she went on vacation. She did it all.
And now, a year later, her other lung has a spot. She is weaker than she was. There will be more tests on what it is, but just writing this, gives me tears to my eyes.
She is my 84 year old grandma, the only one I have left. She is....well, I will not say going away, but a new operation, again surgery..... The chances of her surviving the surgery last time were small, so I guess they are even smaller now... I want to think positive, but I also think of the pain she can get. Cancer is such an ugly thing. I went through it before, with the mother of my boyfriend. I know the pain that goes with it. I just want to save her from that pain. I guess that I would rather see her peacefully die in her sleep than dying because the cancer is winning.
I wish I could do something, but I can't. It makes me feel sad inside. It makes me get dreams and nightmares, it makes me wonder if there is a God. I am raised as a Catholic, but I lost my faith a long time ago. So many things that have happened to me, so many people I knew and loved that I had to say goodbye to....
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