What a trip

We headed home for an early Christmas last Wednesday amid a lot of uncertainty about my dear grandfather's health. Ever since his 90th birthday party last August his health has been failing fast; he was ready to go. To make a long story short, we arrived on Wednesday at 6 and he passed at 10. I was really struggling with whether to go to see him in the nursing home: mom said he wouldn't know I was there, my sister said I'd rather remember him happily partying at 90. I think I made the right decision. Anyway, the next three days brought life lessons about funeral-planning. As it turned out, I missed the visitation and funeral altogether when Emily landed in the hospital with breathing problems on Sunday. She ended up in the same hospital, on the same hall, as where my grandfather had spent some 12 days a month or so ago with pneumonia.


Emily came down with her usual crud on Thursday and we made a trip to the pharmacy to get a refill on her inhalor, which of course we had left at home. She still sounded junky on Sunday morning, so we headed to quick care expecting to do a breathing treatment, get some liquid steroids, and head home. But, nooooo. Now it's Tuesday and we're still in the hospital waiting for the magic button that measures pulse oxygen to pop up the right number. (Well, actually, right now, she's making laps in the hallway with Dad.) She's been a real trooper for the most part, entertaining the nurses with her squeaky voice demanding that she's "all done." She told the emergency room nurse that she was "all better" as we transferred up to the hospital and put her on oxygen. She's had fun pushing any buttons she can get her hands on. Last night when Andy asked her if she was pushing buttons again, she exclaimed, "I'm pushing Daddy's buttons!" That was the truth for sure. I think they are making up, which probably means she feels better, but for most of our stay he's been greated with a loving "get out" or "get away."

We've come to appreciate our least favorite (her favorite) DVD, which she's watched at least a dozen times now. Having myself been hospitalized exactly once (when I delivered Em,) I had great fantasies of cartoon band-aids, jazzy scrubs, ice cream, and toys. Perhaps somewhere else. So, in the meantime, we're making the best of it--even if that means sending Dad for hometown take-out favorites.