- RIP Grandma
- March 24th, 2007
My grandmother has had a lot of health problems in the last few years. Recently she was flown to Michigan from Florida to go to the hospital my aunt and cousin work at to get the best care possible. She had to undergo dialysis and other treatments. Things just kept getting worse. She has diabetes so her body naturally couldn't fight things off that well. But no one expected to hear the next set of news. After about two weeks of being in the hospital, inflammatory breast cancer was found in her. It had already spread to a few locations. This disease is not curable. On Friday, March 23, my sisters and I headed to the hospital to visit her. We expected her to pull through because she's always been in and out of the hospital, and she's strong. But after talking to our aunts and dad, we knew something was very wrong. She was hooked on all these machines. Her body could not handle chemo therapy, so they didn't even try it. They knew there was no hope. I felt sick to my stomach when I saw her. It didn't even look like her. She didn't open her eyes at all the few hours we were there. The only sign of life coming from her was her gurgling breath underneath a face mask. Alexia couldn't come to the hospital, but laying on top of my grandma was a picture she drew that said "I love you grandma." I didn't want to touch or hug or kiss my grandma like that. I didn't believe it was her. I couldn't. She had no teeth, and her lips were shriveled and sunken into her mouth. There was a large dark spot on her neck. Her hair wasn't even done, and it ALWAYS is. She wasn't the grandma "Freitzy" I remember kissing and hugging at Christmas. I wanted that to be my last memory. Pretty soon the intensive care room was full of people. Seventeen people, to be exact. My aunts, uncles, cousins, dad... grandpa... everyone was there, standing around, crying, hugging. We waited until the last batch of family arrived to unplug one of her machines. Within a matter of minutes, she stopped breathing. At that very moment, my dad started crying and pulled all of us girls together in a group hug. It was my sisters, my dad, and my dad's girlfriend all hugging and crying. Seventeen people who LOVED my grandma were there and she just died, right then. My grandpa kept saying to her, "I thought you were going to get better. We came here so you would get better." He said "What am I going to do without her?" It was heartbreaking. Seeing him rubbing her arm, kissing her, and talking to her was enough to send everyone over the edge. Not one person in that room could see straight. We were all devestated. My grandma's toe nails were painted.... my cousin did it while she was in the hospital bed. My aunts were trying to crack jokes about how my grandma's hair wasn't done and she'd freak out if she knew it. They also told us that a few days ago, out of nowhere when my grandma was still conscious, she asked for a pepperoni pizza. We all had moments where we laughed and tried to act normal, but it didn't last long. I can't believe it. I can't believe what happened yesterday. I woke up today not knowing if it was real. I can't even remember exactly how she looked because I have this horrifying picture in my mind. My grandpa kept saying "save a spot for me next to her." I am just depressed and I don't know what to do. No one has passed away in my family since my Uncle Mike eight years ago. It is going to be so hard at the funeral, and burying her. Yes, she was 77, but no one expected her to go already. And my grandpa, what is he going to do? He can't go back to Florida and live all by himself. He's in perfect health, and now he doesn't have the wife he's been with for 56 years. I just can't imagine... god. I fucking hate death. it's so fucked. Regardless of all that, it really brought the family together. Over twenty people got into this huge elevator on the way out, and we were all together, unified. Walking outside, my sisters and I held hands. Gosh, I just can't imagine holidays from now on. Where will my grandma be? She's usually the one yelling at us to stop laughing so loud. Two pictures I can't get out of my head. Kissing my grandma right before leaving on Christmas is one. The other is when I was about 10, I was just sitting on her lap cuddled up to her chest while she was on her chair. I stayed there for what seemed like hours, just sitting with her closing my eyes. That's one of my best memories of her that has never left me.