Relief is in the air as there is nothing but wonderful reports from back home: my grandmother is very well and she is expected to be out of the hospital soon. It feels good to let go of the worry and to no longer automatically pause with the ring of the telephone, wary of what news it may bring. Thank you so much to everyone who shared comfort and good cheer for my family these past few days. I don’t know how I’ve become so blessed.
my grandmother is in the hospital. an unrelated ailment brought to light a mass - large, silent, and ugly — making its home in her body, and tests are underway to determine its nature and course.
fifteen hundred miles away i wait by the phone, and it’s all i can do to focus, sit at my desk and plow through my work. i know that even if i were right beside her that my own two hands would be unable to help her and bring her fragile body any peace, but to be here and process paperwork feels misdirected and wrong.
i wait. i wonder if she is scared, or alone, and i cry and i can’t do this, this seemingly misguided attempt at normality. and i know that this is normal, that grandmothers fall ill and families wait for answers and prepare to make heartbreaking decisions and that the world keeps on spinning, oblivious to it all. but this knowledge doesn’t quell the feeling that this is wrong, that it should all stop — or at least pause for a moment — to acknowledge how very scared and unprepared we really are to deal with this.
i go on working. i wait.
