It’s Christmas Eve and I can’t even believe I’ve sat down to write this.
My grandmother had a stroke on Friday morning at 11:30 am. My mom called to tell me what had happened and that the caretaker was with her when it happened. I rushed to her house and arrived in about 8 minutes. I live 1.5 miles from her and my mom lives about 20 minutes away. My mom had just talked to her at about 10:20am and she gave my mom a list of things to buy for Christmas.
I don’t want to relive the entire thing, but what I saw was heartbreaking and I had enough time to tell her what was happening and that we loved her. My mom and uncle turned the corner as the ambulance was leaving with her and we followed the ambulance to the hospital. I knew there was a drug called TPA that is able to reverse the effects of a stroke, but I knew there was a time limit. I was just hoping she was a candidate for the drug as I knew that at her age, 92, the chances were/are slim.
We arrived at the hospital, waited an hour and then we were told that the drug could NOT be administered intravenously because of her history of internal bleeding. They would have to administer the drug via catheter directly to the clot in her brain. We only had 6 hours. We waited for an ambulance that eventually had to come from philly. They had wanted to take her via mediflight, but all helicopters were grounded due to weather. All specialty ambulances were tied up. She didn’t leave the hospital until 4ish. The drug had to be administered by 5:30pm. We knew she wouldn’t make it to Einstein Medical Center in time. It was frustrating and it didn’t help that the charge nurse had a serious attitude about all of it. A little compassion goes a long way.
Well, fast forward to tonight. She has a feeding tube in her stomach, a bladder infection, and she barely stays awake long enough to acknowledge that you are there.
She did hear me tonight. She turned her head when I touched her and she tried to ask me how we are (true mom-mom style) When I confirmed whether she was trying to ask that or not, she nodded her head and tried to continue talking. She got too tired and fell back to sleep. She knew I was there. If that was the last time she sees my face, I’m happy. I have no regrets.
I’m sad that Rick isn’t home. I want her to see his face again.
I reflect back on our recent conversations.
How funny she was telling stories about my pop-pop. Telling the same stories over and over, because she knew I liked hearing them. They were just as funny every time she told them. And I enjoyed them as if it was the first time I heard them. She is a fantastic story teller.
I hope that she can recover well enough to have conversations again.
She knows that we love her, but I have a couple more questions to ask her.
She is ready to go. She’s told me that.
I just wish she was the mom-mom she was last week. She was so excited for Christmas.
Tomorrow is her birthday. 93 years young.
We brought her a poinsettia plant. Now she has two.
Love you mom-mom. Happy Birthday. We miss you. Come back to us.
