My Grandmother's Stroke

My grandmother had a stroke on Thursday. I went to the hospital to visit her on Friday. When I got there, she was a bit better, but her speech was still slurred, and she was incoherent. Grandma is 84 years old.

It was sad to see her this way. We have never been really close. I grew up very distant from her. Children are very perceptive. When I was young, I was very aware of the "roles" of the Desi household. I wasn't particularly fond of her, because of the way she dominated over my mother. It's not that I didn't like her, I was just always indifferent, and not particularly close to her. I always visited her on special occasions, but never went out of my way to see her, mostly because we weren't as close as we could have been.

Since my divorce, I know she asks of me often. I've grown to like her more than I ever did before. But on Friday, at the hospital, my heart went out to her. In this bed, I saw a frail old lady. I admired her because even in her incoherent moment, she was trying to maintain her dignity. Her character is very strong, very independent, and yes, very classy. When I got married 15 years ago, everyone thought she was my father's YOUNGER sister. She has taken very good care of herself. But at 84, her age is now catching up to her. It was sad.

When she was discharged Friday night, I had to dress her. I could tell that she was mortified at the thought of having someone else dress her. I tried my best to keep her covered with the gown and the sheets and to not look directly at her. The conversation was so sad. She asked where she was. I told her she was in the hospital. She asked how she got there. I told her by ambulance. She asked where my aunt was. I told her at home. She asked why I was dressing her. I told her it was time to go home. She would protest "but I have clothes on". I would tell her she is wearing a hospital gown. Then she would say OK, I would put her arm through the shirt sleeve. By the time I got to the other arm, she asked me where she was again, and why I was changing her. So sad.

Once my mother and I had her dressed, I bent down to put on her socks and shoes. I felt her hand stroke my hair. I looked up at her. She stroked my face. And then she whispered a prayer for me. She had tears in her eyes. I told her not to worry, and not to thank me. She was going to be just fine.

When we got her home, it was the most touching thing of all. My 95 year old grandfather came to the door and stroked her cheek. He told her he missed her, that he is so happy she is home again, and asked her not to leave him again. He told her that he knows that they only have a short time left in this world together, but that he doesn't want to pass them without her. I was SO touched. I cannot imagine ever being loved like that, but I hope one day I find it. It was beautiful.

Tonight, I went again to visit my grandmother. I went with my family to her home to see how she was doing. When I got there, she held my hand. I sat down with her. She told me she was glad I came, and again she thanked me for taking care of her.

An hour of one on one care and she was so appreciative. I should be doing more for her on a regular basis. I am her granddaughter. I told her not to thank me. I haven't done enough. But I will. My uncle later told me that she didn't stop talking about the fact that I took care of her and dressed her, and tried to make her laugh in the hospital.

Imagine that- she remembered that I tried to make her laugh. And I only gave her a few hours of my time. How sad that I've let so many years pass. I missed so many opportunities to really spend time with her.

I'm so thankful that she made it through this, and thankful that I had an opportunity to see what I needed to see. That time is precious, and that even though life is busy, there are some things that we shouldn't avoid.

Like calling or visiting your 84 year old grandmother.