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Feb. 19th, 2006 04:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
which_chickI visited Grandma in the hospital Saturday evening. She's awake and alert, though still in the ICU. Faber (he's the doc, who has also done work on me and my dad) was there while I was visiting ahd he allowed as how that'll probably be the case until maybe Monday. Grandma wanted to know when she'd be allowed out and if she'd be able to go back where she was. Faber totally stalled on those questions, obviously not wanting to give answers that might not come true. He tried to put a positive spin on things but he clearly wasn't going to lie to her and say everything would be okay for sure. It was a bit of a moment.
While we were chatting in ye olde hospital, Grandma was like "Hey, let me see your scar!" So I showed her. (I have not a lot of body modesty, folks. If my very ill ninety-three year old grandma wants to look at my hysterectomy scar, I'm not going to say no.) Fortuitiously, visibility was somewhat improved by the fact that I shaved off an inch of fur so's to see what it looked like today. She was like "That doesn't look like much of anything. And that was staples?" I was like "Yeah." She has staples on her incision, which is a vertical slice on her abdomen, and apparently this is a matter of some concern for her. I didn't know that when you were old your skin got all papery all over, but apparently it does.
I want to sneak my digital camera in and take pictures of her hands. It's pretty much the first time ever that they're not doing things. Not knitting, not doing a crossword, not sewing, not crocheting, not cooking, not playing the piano, not making the world a better place. There are a lot of miles on those hands and they look it. I want pictures. Without asking, I know that she does not want me to take pictures of her hands. The fingers are all bent and twisty from arthritis and the knuckles are huge. You can see lots of veins from the aforementioned papery skin. She thinks they are ugly. I think they are eloquent.
I would like to point out, for the record, that my Grandma thought the "No, usually I just lay there" line was funny. It's clear to us that the Ob/gyn just didn't have a sense of humor.
I'll be back visiting today to run interference for my mother and because I promised grandma I'd look for the Geisha book. (Memoirs of a Geisha, which I allegedly have a copy of somewhere in my house. I have, as yet, been completely unable to locate the damn thing.) I had better find the damn book before going or she will be disappointed. Also, I will be toting along the doily so that (a) I can give it to my mother and (b) I can show it to grandma, who is always interested in seeing things we've made, even if they are not for her.
Oh, and I'm awake at four in the morning because I just emptied ashes out of the stove and threw in some more wood. Whatever miserable cold weather they had in the midwest the other day? We have it now. Man, is it cold out. The ground is all crunchy and brittle-sounding when I walk on it.
In other news, Liss's aunt Leone (Hazel's sister, she's pushing eighty) fell off an ATV and broke her ankle a week or two ago. Things like this give me hope for the future.
While we were chatting in ye olde hospital, Grandma was like "Hey, let me see your scar!" So I showed her. (I have not a lot of body modesty, folks. If my very ill ninety-three year old grandma wants to look at my hysterectomy scar, I'm not going to say no.) Fortuitiously, visibility was somewhat improved by the fact that I shaved off an inch of fur so's to see what it looked like today. She was like "That doesn't look like much of anything. And that was staples?" I was like "Yeah." She has staples on her incision, which is a vertical slice on her abdomen, and apparently this is a matter of some concern for her. I didn't know that when you were old your skin got all papery all over, but apparently it does.
I want to sneak my digital camera in and take pictures of her hands. It's pretty much the first time ever that they're not doing things. Not knitting, not doing a crossword, not sewing, not crocheting, not cooking, not playing the piano, not making the world a better place. There are a lot of miles on those hands and they look it. I want pictures. Without asking, I know that she does not want me to take pictures of her hands. The fingers are all bent and twisty from arthritis and the knuckles are huge. You can see lots of veins from the aforementioned papery skin. She thinks they are ugly. I think they are eloquent.
I would like to point out, for the record, that my Grandma thought the "No, usually I just lay there" line was funny. It's clear to us that the Ob/gyn just didn't have a sense of humor.
I'll be back visiting today to run interference for my mother and because I promised grandma I'd look for the Geisha book. (Memoirs of a Geisha, which I allegedly have a copy of somewhere in my house. I have, as yet, been completely unable to locate the damn thing.) I had better find the damn book before going or she will be disappointed. Also, I will be toting along the doily so that (a) I can give it to my mother and (b) I can show it to grandma, who is always interested in seeing things we've made, even if they are not for her.
Oh, and I'm awake at four in the morning because I just emptied ashes out of the stove and threw in some more wood. Whatever miserable cold weather they had in the midwest the other day? We have it now. Man, is it cold out. The ground is all crunchy and brittle-sounding when I walk on it.
In other news, Liss's aunt Leone (Hazel's sister, she's pushing eighty) fell off an ATV and broke her ankle a week or two ago. Things like this give me hope for the future.
