My grandmother may die this week. I suppose that is true of anyone really, but my grandmother broke her hip last night and requires a risky surgery made all the more risky given her age and past medical history.
My brothers and I call her Ammy, an innocently bastardized version of the Icelandic of Amma. We love our Ammy and she has been in our immediate lives since we moved in with her and Pop after our father ran out on us. She took me to Iceland when I was 13. She taught me to sew. She used to let me help put Pop's change into those coin wrappers and clean her silver. She also introduced us to crepes and fish cakes, two things that my middle brother, M, loved as a child. It is because of the lunches she made during that year we lived with her that I prefer my tuna fish sandwiches to be made with mayonnaise only, the sandwich cut into three strips, and left to sit for a few hours.
I write to her once a month. When I first applied for this new job, she was the only person in my family that I told and she was the first to know that I'd gotten it.
And now I may lose her. Nearly 88 years old with a history of stroke and COPD, no surgeon wants to operate on her. And she is in tremendous pain. The surgery will either save her or kill her, as anesthesia at her age is a real danger.
Death is, obviously, the worst case scenario. In some ways, I suppose, it is time for her to go. Her life is one of misery and depression. She is cared for by my mother, who has a short temper with her because Ammy drives her nuts and has never been particularly nice to her. Mom's brother and, especially, her sister, are no help. I think it would be better to die than to live forever in misery.
But I'm selfish and I want my Ammy to live forever, at least until I can see her again. I told my mom this morning, when I heard the news, that I was happy that I'd at least gotten to talk to her on Friday to thank her for my birthday present and tell her about my promotion. Mom said that Ammy had been so happy and proud of me about that news.
I want to have another opportunity to make her proud and happy.
I'm sorry about your Grandma =(
ReplyDeleteI only really ever knew one of my grandmothers, she was a very non emotional and hard woman but loved us all without a doubt. She showed it through her conversation and her cooking haha..and, I was her favourite ;)
She always got our names confused because there were so many of us but the last time I went to visit her at her house she got my name right and she hugged me so tight..I knew instantly it was the last time I'd see her.
She never hugged, she would let you kiss her cheek but that was it.
I was shattered when she died, the lil girl inside me thought my grandma would live forever.
I relate to this entry so much.
Big hugs my friend xo
This grandmother is the only one I've really known. My dad's parents died when I was young and my mother's father died when I was 13. Ammy I've known for so long and I write to her once a month to keep her updated. I try to pressure my two cousins to call her, but they don't.
ReplyDeleteI make it clear to her, and have done for years, that I am her favorite grandchild. "I may not have been the first" I tell her, "but I am the first girl and we all know that is what matters. Besides, I write you those letters."
Not the last time I saw her, but the time before that, she actually said "there she is, the golden child, number one" in her weak voice and her adorable Icelandic accent.
She is scheduled for surgery at noon tomorrow (Arizona time so 2 PM EST). Hopefully it will go well and she'll be fine.