further grampster adventures

[fearlesstemp]

My grandfather had surgery to have a shunt put in a couple of weeks ago. It's kind of freaky because it's so visible -- you can see the tube under his skin going up his neck and the side of his head behind his ear, until finally it disappears at the top of his skull. When I went to see him in the hospital last week, I gave him one of those strappy-string-things for your glasses, so you can wear them around your neck. I attached it to his glasses and then put it around his neck. He was very happy with it.

For about ten minutes. Then he reached up to scratch his ear and felt the string, and this look of absolute horror came over his face. "That's not supposed to be there!" he said. "The shunt is coming out! It's out!"

It scared him half to death. I had to jump up and say, "No! It's okay! The shunt's still there!" and pull his glasses away so he could see the string.

I give excellent gifts.

Anyway, so he's all shunt-tastic now. Every time I go to see him it takes all of my self possession not to shudder at the sight of the tube under his skin.

Other things I have to make sure not to shudder at: The phlegm-filled Kleenexes he hands me to throw out after he finishes coughing; the smell of the hospital; the sight of the food they're giving him.

So far I'm mostly shudder-free.

He stayed in the hospital far longer than he had to because they couldn't find him a bed in a local nursing home/rehab facility. This is because the rehab facilities and nursing homes don't permit coed rehabbing, and there were no male beds in the area for about a week. We were about to put him in a wig and a dress Bosom Buddies-style when they finally found one, at a nice, new facility.



I went to see him there today. He was asleep when I got there, which left me in a dilemma. I didn't want to disturb his sleep but, at the same time, he's there by himself a lot and wouldn't he want to be awake while I was visiting?

Also, okay, yeah, I kind of wanted points for visiting him. I'm being honest here.

Which reminds me of when he was first in the hospital, my brother and I went out and bought him a little plant for his room, and the rice pudding he likes, and this really funny card.

"We are so going to get the best grandchildren award," my brother said.

"Oh, totally," I said.

And then we drove for a while, until I thought about it some more, remembering how our cousin Kendra had just had surgery and our other two cousins, Nick and Jackie, are both less than ten years old. "Yeah, but, think about our competition," I said.

"Hmm," my brother said.

And then we both laughed and laughed, and said things like, "We *dominate* the elementary school kids, man! Dominate!"

Anyway. It was funny to us.

And so I leaned over and whispered his name. He woke up, saw me, and promptly went back to sleep.

I am so my grandfather's granddaughter. We value sleep above all things.

After a while woke up again and took my hand, and went back to sleep holding it. Which made me tear up a little bit, but also made me nervous because I had to leave to go into my father's office eventually, and he had me in a pretty firm death grip there. And so I sat there for a length of time, staring at his roommate, contemplating the nature of old age.

I kept thinking: Visiting a nursing home is kind of like walking into a horror movie. Except it's real. No special effects, no time-lapsed photography, no models or prosthesis or green-screen action. What you see is what you get and what you, if you live long enough, are likely to become.

Lovely thoughts to be having, right? Other things I contemplated: The source of the awful smell; whether the windows could open and if I would get in trouble for doing so; if my grandfather and his roommate argue when both of them have their TVs on.

After a while he woke up again, and saw me, and stayed awake for a little while longer.

"Am I going home tomorrow?" he said.

"I don't think so," I said. "They have to do some physical rehabilitation, remember? Just to get you back in good shape. It'll just be another week or so, not long."

"Not long?" He asid. "Another week is an eternity!"

"Well, uh," I said, very comfortingly.

"I want to go home," he said. He sounded like a little kid.

"I'll call Chrissy and see what she says, okay?" I said. "We'll work on it."

"Okay," he said, and then looked off to the side. "Hm. I think I just peed my pants."

"That's okay," I said. "You're wearing special pants."

"Hmm," he said. "Yep, I'm going."

"Should I get a nurse, or --"

"No, no," he said. "That's fine."

"Okay," I said.

"Thank you for coming to see me," he said, and then coughed and coughed and spat into his Kleenex.

"No problem," I said, holding my hand out for the Kleenex. It was so gross. I didn't shudder but I totally made a face. He didn't have his glasses on, so I don't think he saw.

He lay there for a minute and then his eyes did that drifting-closed thing little kids do when it's past their bedtime but they don't want to admit they're tired.

"It's okay," I said. "You can go back to sleep. I have to go to the office soon anyway."

"I don't know why I need to sleep," he said. "I don't do anything."

And then he went to sleep. I left, and walked down the smelly hallway, past people in wheelchairs watching the action outside their rooms.

I didn't cry at all, but I did stop at a gas station for a Three Musketeers bar on the way to my father's office. I'm only human.

Now I'm at the office, trying to figure out this bank statement my father gave me. I keep coming up with a $472.59 discrepancy. It is the very definition of infuriating.

ETA: Now it's a $90.00 discrepancy. I don't know how that happened. If I don't figure this out in ten minutes, I'm giving up. Far too hungry.