My Grandpa is in the hospital again. He's having a rough time. Pain struck him violently this evening. He was given morphine, but it wasn't helping. I watched the pain turn my wonderful, caring, gentle grandfather into a mean, vicious old man. It was funny in a way, but fear siezes my chest at the thought that these could possibly be some of our last moments with him. Moments where he's not the grandfather I've known for all 33 1/2 years of my life. The Grandpa who helped me sneak some frosting from my first birthday cake, before blowing out the candles. Who took us in the back of his pickup truck (when it wasn't illegal) on all sorts of errands. Who skied with us every weekends. Took us on trips to Disney world, Lake powell, and hawaii. The man I sat with, grieved with, just the two of us, while we watched his father pass peacefully on. I have such good memories of this amazing man who is the patriarch of my mom's side of the family. Seeing this illness change him is terrifying. The medical knowledge I have tells me we probably don't have much time left.
So, I fear.
|From January 2010|
Life is a long road...appearing neverending but not.