My mom just called to say that when they got to the hospital this morning, Grandma was somewhat alert. She didn’t initiate conversation, but responded to questions. Uncle Paul asked her if there was anything she wanted, and she said, “A hundred dollars.” Later, Mom asked, “How are you feeling?” and Grandma replied, “With my fingers.”
That’s the grandma we know… a sense of humor, (almost) no matter what. Between the personality traits we got from Dad and the ones that trickled down through Mom from Grandma, Kathy and I have no hope of ever dealing with any situation without sarcasm and inappropriate laughter. Oh well. Eventually people will stop inviting us to deathbeds, and there ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.
I’m thinking the real test to see if Grandma’s back to being herself is if *I* call her and she starts blaming me for something I didn’t do. Then we’d know for sure. Honestly, when Kathy handed the phone to her the other day, we chatted for a couple minutes before she told me she loved me and I said I loved her back. I wasn’t lying—I do love her; I certainly don’t like her all that much, but when I think of the way she was to me as a kid, I love that grandma. I have happy memories of that grandma.
Even if I never talk to her again, I’ll feel like I left things as best as I could. And if I do talk to or see her again, I can only hope that I don’t give her a reason to start being evil again.
The plan now is to put her in hospice in Medford. Getting her from Colorado back to Oregon ought to be interesting. Mom is working out those plans now. I’ll share more as I hear it; for now, I’m still nursing this @#*%& headache and need to nap.