I didn't realize how long it had been since I last posted. Shame on me for having a life. Must be the delicious spring-like weather. Last weekend the garden got tilled and 18 asparagus crowns were planted.
Yesterday, I took a vacation day and went home to West Liberty. All three living grandparents are in dire straights.
My dad's parents are both in the hospital. They were in the same room until Mamaw Terry somehow came down with e-coli (hospitals are so unsanitary). She screams every time she's touched because of the severe swelling caused from fluid retention, and that is caused from the congestive heart failure and kidney malfunction. He is struggling to breathe because of pneumonia and heart issues. He weighs a whopping 100 lbs! Alzheimer's is setting in so, he's usually very irritated (further evidence that I come by my colorful use of language naturally) and, unfortunately, he's a walker. This morning, for whatever reason, he thought he'd get up. He fell and cut himself all over. It's just not looking good for either of them. I did manage to keep his anxiety at bay for a while yesterday by applying a cold rag to his head. He was somewhere between a heart attack and an anxiety attack. The cool rag and touch helped to keep him quiet for as long as I did it. No sooner would I move that he would become agitated again.
Meanwhile, my mom's mother continues to suffer light strokes periodically. During lunch yesterday we noticed she was sitting in her chair with her head in her hands. I got up and asked what was wrong. "I'm 97, that's what's wrong. You wait till you get this old, you'll know what I mean." Can't argue with that. I went back to the dinner table.
It's so funny to learn so much about oneself in the throws of their dying (not sure that's the correct spelling for this context). Every word they speak, every move they make I see myself and I understand more about who I am and where I've come from. Some things are truly born of genetics alone. No amount of therapy or prayer is gonna change it. Might as well embrace it. Let the colorful metaphors continue, I say!
Yesterday, I took a vacation day and went home to West Liberty. All three living grandparents are in dire straights.
My dad's parents are both in the hospital. They were in the same room until Mamaw Terry somehow came down with e-coli (hospitals are so unsanitary). She screams every time she's touched because of the severe swelling caused from fluid retention, and that is caused from the congestive heart failure and kidney malfunction. He is struggling to breathe because of pneumonia and heart issues. He weighs a whopping 100 lbs! Alzheimer's is setting in so, he's usually very irritated (further evidence that I come by my colorful use of language naturally) and, unfortunately, he's a walker. This morning, for whatever reason, he thought he'd get up. He fell and cut himself all over. It's just not looking good for either of them. I did manage to keep his anxiety at bay for a while yesterday by applying a cold rag to his head. He was somewhere between a heart attack and an anxiety attack. The cool rag and touch helped to keep him quiet for as long as I did it. No sooner would I move that he would become agitated again.
Meanwhile, my mom's mother continues to suffer light strokes periodically. During lunch yesterday we noticed she was sitting in her chair with her head in her hands. I got up and asked what was wrong. "I'm 97, that's what's wrong. You wait till you get this old, you'll know what I mean." Can't argue with that. I went back to the dinner table.
It's so funny to learn so much about oneself in the throws of their dying (not sure that's the correct spelling for this context). Every word they speak, every move they make I see myself and I understand more about who I am and where I've come from. Some things are truly born of genetics alone. No amount of therapy or prayer is gonna change it. Might as well embrace it. Let the colorful metaphors continue, I say!
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