Friday, September 07, 2007

The Hospital Visit

My grandma lay in bed, looking deflated, literally, from the jolly old lady that I remembered from my childhood. The doctors' didn't know what was wrong other than that there was something up with her stomach. I stood by one side of the bed and tentatively said hello. She looked confused but her deep blue eyes were still sharp and I thought that they looked beautiful.

She didn't know who I was though. At first she thought that I was her brother but then when we repeatedly said my childhood nickname (which embarrassingly translates into English as little white goose - apparently how I looked when I was born) I could finally see recognition cross her face.

She looked so fragile and seemed to fade in and out a bit but she still told me to visit more often. I introduced her to the other half and I realised that she'd understood what I'd said as she started to tell us to be good to each other and to never hurt each other, as her and her husband never had. It was sweet but also very sad. The other half cried a bit. Hospitals never bring back good memories.

I brushed a hand through my grandma's fine silver hair and told her that it still looked beautiful. She asked "Is it?" with almost a smile on her face but was now also starting to look more tired so we took this as cue to allow her to rest and said our goodbyes.

I felt bad for having to lie that I would come back to see her soon knowing that she probably wouldn't remember my promise though I think that it was worth it as it made her happy to hear me say it now.

We walked quietly back outside. I wondered if it would be the last time that I would see her. I remember her telling me, a few years previously, that she had never been ill until she hit 90.

But the sturdy old woman that she once was was now long gone. I didn't really know what else to do. It'd be all up to her now as to whether or not she'd want to go on. But then having outlived her husband and adopted daughter (my mum) and now lying helpless in a hospital bed, what would you choose?

Later on that day I gave my aunt some money to help with funeral costs, should the worst happen. I hoped it wouldn't but then having seen my grandma as she was now, a pale shadow of her former self, perhaps it would be for the best now?

2 comments:

Station Supervisor said...

Sorry to hear about your gran mate.

Hospitals always bring out the worst memories, when my father died it was hard to remember him as the big jovial man he was before he became ill, going from almost 19 to 11 stone in nine months.

Hospitals are a hard place to see someone especially when you don't think a loved one will recover.

doobrie said...

Yes, I don't like hospitals much anymore. The language barrier didn't help too much either.

There were so many things that I wanted to say to her but just didn't know the words for.