Grandmother

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There are so many memories of my growing up and early adulthood years that involve my grandmother. The day after Mike and I got married, she gave me two pieces of advice, that have saved many hours of heartache: Never go to bed angry, always stay up and work it out, even if it means apologizing when it really wasn't your fault. And always remember that it was about what he could do for me, or what I could do for him, but what the two of us together could do for God. When I had my first baby, she told me to never allow her, my mother, my mother in law, or anyone else tell me how to raise my children. That was a decision that was up to Mike and I. If the rest of them didn't like it, they could stick a rosebush up their rear ends. (She wrote poetry, and was very much into graphic examples) When my grandfather died, she staunchly informed everyone that she would not be selling her house and moving in with any of the kids, thank you very much. Didn't matter that she had never learned to drive, didn't do the grocery shopping, had never run a lawnmower or a weedeater. You could pay someone to do all of those things for you. In the space of 3 years, she buried her husband, a sister, a brother, a son, a daughter, a grandson, 2 sisters in law, and more friends than I can count. She continued to tell anyone who would listen that her God was still in control, and even if she didn't understand why He was taking everyone home but her, there must be a good reason. When I had back surgery, she had spent 3 days in the hospital earlier that week getting a blood tranfusion because she was so anemic. (Dr. had no idea where all of her blood went, because there was no sign of internal bleeding, cancer or any other probably cause) So weak that she couldn't walk, she made my uncle drive her the hour's trip, and then sat in a wheelchair in the surgery waiting room for 9 hours while I was still in the OR. She spent the night in a hotel, and was the first one into ICU the next morning. She weighs 85 pounds soaking wet, and has shrunk due to Osteoporosis to just under 4'9". I don't mess with her and wouldn't want to be on her bad side and meet her in a dark alley. I've seen her jump off the porch to grab a great-grandchild out of the way of a snake, Hit a rottweiler with a broom handle when he was attacking her chihuahua and put a 6'6" son-in-law in his place with a glare from across the room. Tonight, at the age of 82, she lies in a hospital bed in the Corinary Care Unit of our local hospital. Her body is tired and worn out. There are clots in her lung and her legs. She is dehydrated, anemic and has enough bruises to make someone think she'd either been beaten up, or run over by a truck. And still, the Queen is on her throne. Though her blood pressure has dropped to 70/30, she informed me earlier that if I called one more person and worried them that she was coming out of that bed to skin me alive. I handed off the phone to my brother and said Yes Maam. Stephen refused to make such a promise. Her large family is camped in the waiting room. Taking turns going in 3 at a time to sit with her while she watches her westerns and old musical comedies. I've seen bits and pieces of Annie Oakley, Wyatt Earp and Gunsmoke. Seen Bob Hope with hair, Lucille Ball before she married Desi and a very young, very handsome Henry Fonda. When I left a few minutes ago after being there for more than 12 hours, she was informing the nurses that she really didn't give a flyin rat's hind end (I'm quoting here.) how much water she was supposed to drink, she wanted a diet dr. pepper in a can. The nurse called her supervisor, who happens to be an old friend of my grandmother's. She brought her a 6-pack.