I wanted to post a post full of beautiful pictures, but Blogger is being a booger and I can’t. So now is the time where I write the post about my Grandma.
My Grandma Shirley watched me after kindergarten and first grade (and maybe longer), and would give me slices of white bread (which we never got at home) with butter and honey on them. She would scratch my back while we listened to old records (Liberace!) (and the old records were dusty and she would dust them off on her hip) and let me read stacks and stacks of old Archie comics (old like 1960s old). She listened to me make up stories, and she was fully supportive of me when I said I wanted to be an astronaut and that someday she would see me on the moon with my long blonde hair (it was blonde then) flowing in the non-wind. She and Grandpa lived on enough land that I was constantly finding new places to explore, but was never in danger of running into the road. Grandma Shirley gives the best hugs, because there’s so much softness to hug.
Grandma is in the hospital now. She went in about a week ago, and since she’s been there they’ve found more things that need fixing beyond the problem that brought her in. Tomorrow we get a test back that will tell us how big the problem is.
It might be cancer. (Does that get capitalized? Did you know that Galen named these things cancers because they looked like crabs? Did you know that the word “cancer” is related to the word “canker”? Did you know that the word “cancer” was brought into Middle English from the French [Old or Middle, I’m not sure] “cancre” in the 1600s? Did you know that filling your head with useless, semi-related facts helps you keep a distance from stupid reality?)
I’m not trying to be flip. I’m trying not to wig out before wigging out is required. If I don’t think about it in Big Letters, then I can be stronger for my family (?maybe?). I don’t know. This is new to me. When my Grandpa died, I was 8 years old and didn’t know what was going on, other than everyone was sad and I was sad and holy crap thank god I hugged him and told him I loved him that one time (Grandpa was not a demonstrative man). Now I’m a grown-up (ha!) and I have to deal with these things like a grown-up. Sort of. So far that means being an hour from my family and wanting to help but being unable.
That’s all I have just now.