Why won't the last grain fall?

I'm speaking specifically about the grain of sand in the proverbial hourglass that belongs to my Grandma Pierce who is currently in a coma after suffering a heart attack and stroke a couple days ago.

Grandma has not had the greatest of years in the past couple. She is nearing 90 years old and essentially gave up on taking care of herself necessitating putting her in assisted living. But when she became violent with the nurses she had to be moved to the most depressing of rest homes. But, really, are there any rest homes that aren't depressing? Anyhow she just sits/lays there in the rest home, day in and day out, waiting for someone to come visit and crying, justifiably so, when visitors have to leave. Her memory is shot so sometimes she doesn't recall the visit anyway. And she has been without Grandpa for almost 18 years...it's time for her to leave.

Yet, she keeps hanging on for some reason and it's been really difficult to function normally knowing that she is in the state she is in and that is, being physically here, but that's it. Right now I feel it's futile to go see her (she does live a little over 120 miles away) because she may not know that I'm even there. Not to mention I was there in the room when my Grandma Slack passed and I do not wish to have the experience again.

Little things are setting off my tears, like a simple song on the radio, someone asking me how I am or how she is, or just some random thought of her.

Grandma and I have a very close relationship. I lived with her for about a year when I went to college and got to know her very well. She isn't the easiest person to get along with, but she still had great moments, and I love her. She was always very kind and nice to me, even when we would have arguments. But I think that's why we got along so good, is that we could argue but knew that we still loved each other.

Grandma also played a very special part in my mission. She wrote quite often and there was one day where she provided great comfort. I was horribly ill with a high fever and a headache that I thought was going to destroy me. In fact, I was in and out of consciousness all day. When I finally came to in the evening I was still feeling bad and couldn't get out of bed. I was quite homesick and was wishing I could speak to someone in my family. Nobody in my family had my phone number because on the mission you're only to communicate through letters and speak to your family on Mother's Day and Christmas. While I was laying in bed trying to rest the phone rang and my companion answered it. I was quite shocked when I heard him say, "No ma'am, you've reached the wrong number. There is no Pamela Reddington here." Pamela is my cousin from the Pierce side who at the time was living in a neighboring state. I immediately told him to hand me the phone and when I asked who was calling, it was Grandma Pierce! She was quite surprised to have reached me, but no more surprised than I was! I told her I was so glad she called, even if it was by mistake, and we chatted awhile and it made me feel much better.

I hate to think of her in the position she's in now and wish that God would just release her from her body. She's told me countless times she's ready to move on, so why doesn't it happen?

Time keeps on slipping...

In the past two days I've had major moments of "time realization" that I am not too happy about, quite frankly. And it's because I hate that time is moving so fast and I seem to have jumped off the train, and I'm really struggling to get back on. That probably makes no sense, but to me it does, and it's my blog!:)

Anyway, August 11th was the 10 year anniversary of the random tornado touching down in downtown Salt Lake City. A DECADE has passed since then! In my mind, it seemed like that happened maybe just a couple years ago.

Then, even more rattling is the fact that yesterday (August 12th) marked the 11 year anniversary of my returning from my mission. I hate thinking about that because when I was on my mission I had my life planned out to where by now I would've been married with at least three children and not working at a customer service/phone job. My mission self would be disappointed in now self.

The worst "time realization" rattler occurred earlier this evening. That is when my sister showed me pictures of these kids I used to babysit, though I erroneously just used the term "kids". When I babysat the Clark family there were four children, the youngest being a baby boy named Jonathan. I remember that before they moved there was another baby born when Jonathan was about two and it was a little girl, who I saw once. From then, until now, I've seen the two oldest children, girls, and marveled at how they've grown and then got depressed when both of them got married. Depressed on account of I should've been married way before they were. Anyway, the pictures my sister showed me were of the younger girls' wedding which included a picture of Jonathan who is now almost out of high school!!! WHAT THE.....??!!! When I think of Jonathan, I think of the little baby, who when he barely learned to walk, would bring me all his toys, and who had difficulty learning to talk. Now he's practically an adult!

It's ill-making...to me all those events like babysitting those children, my mission and the tornado, all seem like things in the very recent past, but apparently I'm mistaken. I guess I need to hop on a horse and try to catch up with the train before I'm lost forever.

Troubling Thought addendum

So Dad came home from work just after I finished the last post. I asked him what he thought about the kidney transplant and he says he's all for it. I said I didn't agree because I feel he's too sick and he, of course, says, "I'm not too sick. What would make you say that?"

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

Troubling Thought

As you may know, my father is in horrible kidney failure...it's at about 13% function. He isn't in great health whatsoever, though he does work. But by work I mean, he's a wheel-chair pusher at the airport and very rarely does he actually DO something because I'm sure people are wondering why they aren't pushing him. And when he's not at work he's laying on his bed.

Also, he has started dialysis. He had been working towards getting a kidney transplant but the only donors were my mom and my brother, Pibby, and us kids certainly didn't want our mom to do it and Pibby didn't want to either knowing that Dad wasn't taking care of the kidneys he currently has, why should he give up his for Dad not to take care of that one either? Not to mention when Dad had his gall bladder removed a couple years ago, a minor outpatient surgery, it turned into a major inpatient hospital stay because he's just so weak he couldn't take it. Of course, a kidney transplant is much more serious so we've kinda been thinking that were he to do it he'd most likely pass away. And some of the doctors have agreed with us.

During the past couple years my dad's appearance has drastically changed because of being sick. He's very gaunt and looks really tired whereas he used to have a glow about him and was very healthy looking. A little while ago I found a video from Christmas 2007 where he was on it and I showed it to him thinking maybe it would kick start him into realizing he needs to watch his diet and do some exercise. Unbelievably, my frail, zombie-looking dad told me, "Well, I look TERRIBLE there! And I definitely feel better now than I did then."

......REALLY???!!!!

So you can see he doesn't have a realistic view of what is going on.

I said all that, to say this: today my mom received a call while Dad was at work from the kidney donation center saying that my dad's name had come up on a list to receive a cadaver kidney. My mom told the center that she didn't think he'd be healthy enough to go through with that but that they would need to talk to him. I think my dad will approve and go through with the surgery and that scares me. I know I should have more faith but I know he wouldn't make it through. He's only 67 and I think that's WAY too young to go even though many have and will die at younger ages. I want at least another 15 years.

So I hope my dad really thinks about it and makes a good decision. And when I say that I mean maybe he knows if he gets a transplant he'll do better...

I guess I'm rambling now but I'm just very upset about this whole situation and how it's not only affecting me, but Mom as well and the whole family.