One Moment at a Time...

It's Monday again and the minutes are just ticking by in slow motion. I can almost hear each one shuffling past...

Steinvic and I went to see my Grandma yesterday. It was a good visit - my Aunt and Uncle arrived shortly after we got there - but I kept having these little flickers of thought as everyone talked.

I don't think that she is going to ever leave here.

She looks so pale.

I don't want her to die here...her husband died here...I wonder if she is thinking about that...

Her spirits were up. I tried to keep things light. As we left, though, she called after Steinvic, "Take care of my girl!"

And with those words, my "job mode" began to disintegrate.

We got a phone call about two hours after getting home that they'd put my Grandma on Morphine as the chest pain had returned and it was so severe she couldn't bear it. The attack actually started after we left, but while my Aunt and Uncle and some other visitors were there. She didn't tell anyone she was hurting because she didn't want to interrupt her visits. So like her...

Still, she didn't want us to come back to the hospital. She asked for the phone to tell me how much she loved me. She said if this was her time, then it was. And that she didn't want me on the highway (she always says that any time after 7:00 p.m. I am perpetually 17 in her mind, even though she knows better.) Mom told me later that my Grandma was actually pretty excited because she thought she was going to see my Grandpa very, very soon. End job mode.

When we got off the phone, that's when I lost it. Let me add here that Steinvic is a very, very good man. I hadn't really cried since this all started, so I guess I was overdue.

I just called her. She made it through the night and she's on Morphine and nitro right now. She sounds pretty out of it but she knew it was me and said she loved me and I told her I'd be there soon. There is no other place I want to be right now.

I know this could go on for days or it could be over in minutes. I am a bit of a control freak and the lack of process and the trickle of information and definites makes me feel a little nauseous.

But this isn't about me. It's about my Grandma and her wonderfulness and her contributions and her life and her (please, G*d) graceful, painless exit from it.

Until then, we wait...