I took grandma to have her cast off today. It will most likely be the last time she leaves the nursing home alive. I also am having trouble spending any time alone with her as my mother shares her room. It's great for them, but sometimes I'd like to be alone.
So we work out this complicated deal to get her to the doctor's office. I folded up her wheel chair and stuffed it in the back of the van and finally figured out a way with the nursing home as to how to get some pain medicine to take with us, because she gets it every hour. There were no Handicapped spots available, but I convinced her it was okay because I merely had to push her. So I opened the back of the van and the wheel chair fell out on my foot. (OUCH!) "It's nothing, grandma," I shouted so she wouldn't think anything more about it.
We finally get upstairs despite how inept I can be. She's so tired she is holding her head up in her hand. She says, "I never knew how heavy my head was..." I asked if I could help her. She said she didn't know how I'd manage to hold her head. So I pulled her wheel chair really close to my chair and the way it was situated the best I could do was to lean my head on her chest and let her rest her head on mine. We sat there quietly for a few minutes. I heard her heart beat. I could feel every bone in her body. I relished the weight of her head. I thought about all the times I'd crawled in bed with her as a child. All this with no words. Then grandma said, "We'd better stop or people will think we're two queers..."
I love you, Grandma, I'm going to miss you for so many reasons, including all the laughs.