This morning my roomate cousin came home several hours early (five am), while he usually calls me before coming home to unlatch the door, the first words out of my mouth when he called were if I had overslept. He said I had not, but that he wanted to know if I didn't mind if we made our trek down south to the rest of the family super early this weekend.
With the big holiday looming, I said sure not thinking anything out of the ordinary. When he got home he starts furiously packing and shows me that his hands are shaking, shaking to the point of ... well of me worrying. But I don't panic. I asked if he was ok and jokingly asked if he had OD'd on caffeene. He said no, just that he had lots on his mind. (must have been lots more than Cinders disappearing at midnight, AGAIN) I dismissed his shakes while he went on to pack and tell me about his night, like he does every morning. I tried to pack up as quickly as he did, but he had loaded up mine AND his stuff while I was still packing in my morning drunken stupor. Ok, something is up I think to myself ~ but me being the person I am, I don't usually ask questions. If people want me to know something they will tell me when they are ready.
We hit the road at 6am and drive south to the family hive getting in a little after 7am. Everyone in the house was still sleeping except the parents. They were getting dressed. Somebody mentioned going to the hospital.
And again the music in my life soundtrack not only screetches but it stops momentarily.
First thing I though of was my future mommy cousin, and yesterday was her birthday. I had just talked to her around 10:30pm the night before because her brother insisted that I call her and tell her happy birthday. I joke whined in my toony voice 'Wasn't her semi-made myspace b-day graphic good enough'? I called her and we had our usual short chat. I hated to think that the house was empty because she was not in it, (my stomace literally flipped) and that was why we were going to the hospital. But good news it wasn't her.
The bad news: It was our grandpa.
My cousin didn't want to tell me because he thought I might panic. What he didn't know was this was the kind of news that I can handle as I've had my share of xmas downers. If I had known, I woulda been the one driving and not him because you didn't see how bad he was shaking. Also the morning story he told me, was about grandpa and not some random patient. I stood there in the entry way, I was floored by the news.
When my cousin mentioned his patient this morning and described the exact symptoms that our grandpa had suffered. My response was that it sucked to be that family for the season and they might have a hard time ahead, but they would eventually get thru it. That is another spin I have on my life. It's not that I'm not emotional or that I don't care, but in some situations I don't see the need to get upset as it doesn't help. It won't make the bad news better. You can't think clearly if you are overly emotional. While crying does help, it doesn't really solve anything. Though I do admit, crying does help at times.
My aunt, uncle, Mannie and I drove to north Dallas to this beautiful hospital. I could tell before we went inside that grandpa was in good hands. We spent the morning waiting to see grandpa, my family filling up the ICU waiting room (as usual). In events like these its usually a mini family reunion, more so than the typical holiday meals, there is always that relative there that you have not seen in years, you have no clue who they are, but they know you (or vice versa) and you are mentioned how much you've grown and how long it's been since you were last seen. Hugs are exchanged and the huddling and laugher starts. With every family tragedy, even random good or bad hospital visits my family manages to fill the waiting room. We all sit around laughing and joking, while any other families sit and stare ahead in somber silence.
I never understood those quiet somber families. It's not that we're disrespecful, but being down doesn't ever do anybody anygood.
I wanted to hear first hand about his condition. I find it funny that as old as my cousin and I are, we still get treated as children. We started to make our way to his area a second time and the family kept saying not to disturb grandpa. I wanted to speak to a nurse, better yet his doctor (but there was no doctor to chat with). The nurse said that he his leg was looking good and healing normally (the whole reason he was in the hospital to begin with). She was giving him as much fluids as he could take, but keeping him hydrated was a bit of an issue. His bodily functions were starting to stabilize. He had also lost 6 units of blood and the reason for it was an undetected ulcer that had ruptured while he was recovering from his leg surgery.
We left the hospital, and found out a few hours later that my grandpa is doing much better but his ulcer is still being a thorn in his side they plan to keep him in ICU for a while longer, just to keep an eye on him. He's in good hands and I trust he will have a steady recovery.
I read on red cross the average person has between 10-12 units, so he lost about as much as half of his blood. That number is better than what I originally thought, which was 8 units. At the very least I asked here where I could donate my own blood to grandpa. She suggested that I go to the admin building, but she could not answer that question herself directly. This kinda annoyed me, but I know that because of the stupid hospital politics, it's not as easy as just pulling up my sleeve, taking a seat, and pulling out a pint of fresh squeedly spooch.
I also know that even if I do donate my own blood, it's not very likely that my dear grandpa will ever have it run thru his veins. They do all sorts of tests now days, for any kind of cooties such as HIV or any other blood ickys. They also check for blood cell count, plasma and platelets and other unseen micro organisms that we take for granted. Not only that they cool it off and put thru all kinds of spinny CSI type tests just to make those lab techs go oooh and ahhh. That's why they get paid the big bux!
So anyway, sometime this weekend, in between visiting grandpa, celebrating the season, hangin with family, and trying to rest, I will be making a trip to the red cross and pulling up my sleeves to give to somebody what somebody gave to my grandpa, another chance at life, and that's better than any gift out there.
With the big holiday looming, I said sure not thinking anything out of the ordinary. When he got home he starts furiously packing and shows me that his hands are shaking, shaking to the point of ... well of me worrying. But I don't panic. I asked if he was ok and jokingly asked if he had OD'd on caffeene. He said no, just that he had lots on his mind. (must have been lots more than Cinders disappearing at midnight, AGAIN) I dismissed his shakes while he went on to pack and tell me about his night, like he does every morning. I tried to pack up as quickly as he did, but he had loaded up mine AND his stuff while I was still packing in my morning drunken stupor. Ok, something is up I think to myself ~ but me being the person I am, I don't usually ask questions. If people want me to know something they will tell me when they are ready.
We hit the road at 6am and drive south to the family hive getting in a little after 7am. Everyone in the house was still sleeping except the parents. They were getting dressed. Somebody mentioned going to the hospital.
And again the music in my life soundtrack not only screetches but it stops momentarily.
First thing I though of was my future mommy cousin, and yesterday was her birthday. I had just talked to her around 10:30pm the night before because her brother insisted that I call her and tell her happy birthday. I joke whined in my toony voice 'Wasn't her semi-made myspace b-day graphic good enough'? I called her and we had our usual short chat. I hated to think that the house was empty because she was not in it, (my stomace literally flipped) and that was why we were going to the hospital. But good news it wasn't her.
The bad news: It was our grandpa.
My cousin didn't want to tell me because he thought I might panic. What he didn't know was this was the kind of news that I can handle as I've had my share of xmas downers. If I had known, I woulda been the one driving and not him because you didn't see how bad he was shaking. Also the morning story he told me, was about grandpa and not some random patient. I stood there in the entry way, I was floored by the news.
When my cousin mentioned his patient this morning and described the exact symptoms that our grandpa had suffered. My response was that it sucked to be that family for the season and they might have a hard time ahead, but they would eventually get thru it. That is another spin I have on my life. It's not that I'm not emotional or that I don't care, but in some situations I don't see the need to get upset as it doesn't help. It won't make the bad news better. You can't think clearly if you are overly emotional. While crying does help, it doesn't really solve anything. Though I do admit, crying does help at times.
My aunt, uncle, Mannie and I drove to north Dallas to this beautiful hospital. I could tell before we went inside that grandpa was in good hands. We spent the morning waiting to see grandpa, my family filling up the ICU waiting room (as usual). In events like these its usually a mini family reunion, more so than the typical holiday meals, there is always that relative there that you have not seen in years, you have no clue who they are, but they know you (or vice versa) and you are mentioned how much you've grown and how long it's been since you were last seen. Hugs are exchanged and the huddling and laugher starts. With every family tragedy, even random good or bad hospital visits my family manages to fill the waiting room. We all sit around laughing and joking, while any other families sit and stare ahead in somber silence.
I never understood those quiet somber families. It's not that we're disrespecful, but being down doesn't ever do anybody anygood.
I wanted to hear first hand about his condition. I find it funny that as old as my cousin and I are, we still get treated as children. We started to make our way to his area a second time and the family kept saying not to disturb grandpa. I wanted to speak to a nurse, better yet his doctor (but there was no doctor to chat with). The nurse said that he his leg was looking good and healing normally (the whole reason he was in the hospital to begin with). She was giving him as much fluids as he could take, but keeping him hydrated was a bit of an issue. His bodily functions were starting to stabilize. He had also lost 6 units of blood and the reason for it was an undetected ulcer that had ruptured while he was recovering from his leg surgery.
We left the hospital, and found out a few hours later that my grandpa is doing much better but his ulcer is still being a thorn in his side they plan to keep him in ICU for a while longer, just to keep an eye on him. He's in good hands and I trust he will have a steady recovery.
I read on red cross the average person has between 10-12 units, so he lost about as much as half of his blood. That number is better than what I originally thought, which was 8 units. At the very least I asked here where I could donate my own blood to grandpa. She suggested that I go to the admin building, but she could not answer that question herself directly. This kinda annoyed me, but I know that because of the stupid hospital politics, it's not as easy as just pulling up my sleeve, taking a seat, and pulling out a pint of fresh squeedly spooch.
I also know that even if I do donate my own blood, it's not very likely that my dear grandpa will ever have it run thru his veins. They do all sorts of tests now days, for any kind of cooties such as HIV or any other blood ickys. They also check for blood cell count, plasma and platelets and other unseen micro organisms that we take for granted. Not only that they cool it off and put thru all kinds of spinny CSI type tests just to make those lab techs go oooh and ahhh. That's why they get paid the big bux!
So anyway, sometime this weekend, in between visiting grandpa, celebrating the season, hangin with family, and trying to rest, I will be making a trip to the red cross and pulling up my sleeves to give to somebody what somebody gave to my grandpa, another chance at life, and that's better than any gift out there.
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