My grandma is dying. Aren't we all... but she's nearer the end than most.

She went into the hospital a week ago. I got the news Friday afternoon as I was leaving for Kennywood, the local amusement park, for the kids' school picnic day. I wanted to stay home, to crawl under the covers and cry all afternoon, but I walked out the door and got into the truck. I felt like I was betraying Grandma by not staying home and weeping. It felt wrong to be going to have fun riding roller coasters when she was lying in a hospital bed, but we promised the kids we'd go. John got off work early. I couldn't indulge my depression, and Grandma wouldn't want me to do that anyway.

My mom called on Saturday and told me Grandma was doing better. She had a liter of fluid drained and was breathing well after that, even though the doctors thought they would be draining two more liters. Three liters of fluid in that tiny five-foot one-inch, 100-pound body. But she was doing better. Her heart doctor was going to be in on Monday. I felt more hopeful.

Sunday night, I sunk into one of my funks. I was completely overwhelmed with everything in my life. The house was a mess. I didn't exercise that day. There were mountainous piles of laundry. And my grandma was in the hospital. I went into my room to mope and read the rest of the night.

As much as I wanted to stay in bed on Monday, I got up for work. It was a slow day that didn't do much to help keep me lively. I muddled through and went biking and walking with Maureen afterward, but even that didn't energize me in any way. I felt like I was half asleep. I went home and moped and read some more.

Tuesday, all I did was mope, sleep, and read. I finished The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency. I accomplished nothing else.

I worried how in the world I'd manage to work the next day, but somehow I got up and did it. I felt a little better. I came home and ate pizza and decided to take a second rest day from my exercise plan. Then the phone rang.

My mom called to tell me I needed to call my grandma. I hadn't done it yet, as if putting off that phone call would keep her alive, because certainly she couldn't die without talking to me first. Everyone knows it doesn't work that way though.

Mom was in Nebraska now, staying with Grandma at the hospital most of the time and talking to the doctors, hearing all the bad news they had to say. Grandma's 82 year old heart is quite simply worn out. Surgery is extremely risky, and Grandma doesn't want it anyway. She's on oxygen all the time now. She's also on dobutamine (sp?) which seems to be keeping her alive if taking her off it and having her crash is any indicator. She was to get a pacemaker yesterday, but her blood was too thin, so she's getting it today if possible. It might not do any good. My mom asked the doctor what to expect, and he told her Grandma won't be leaving the hospital. How long does she have to live? "It won't be long," he said, but he won't hazard a guess of what that means.

I did call Grandma after I got off the phone with my mom and crying for a few minutes. I kept it to myself while talking to her. I didn't want to upset her any more than she already is. Her mom is dying. It would be selfish of me to burden her with my feelings, especially when she seemed to be doing pretty well at the time.

Grandma sounded so tired. Because she was. She told me she didn't feel well at all and asked how I was doing. I told her I was doing fine, not mentioning how bone tired I've been. That is trivial in light of what's happening to her, and she doesn't need to have even a glimmer of worry over how her granddaughter is doing. She didn't talk long, a sure sign of how she's doing. I could always count on Grandma being on the phone at least an hour when I called.

Which brings me to my guilt. I haven't been calling. I didn't call for Mother's Day. I didn't call on her birthday in April. I didn't even call at Christmas. I avoid bad things, and I've been worried about Grandma's health since my visit to Nebraska last year. She didn't have anything in particular wrong with her at the time, but I had a bad feeling. That bad feeling went into overdrive last week before Grandma went into the hospital. It would make sense that I would have been calling non-stop if I ever made sense about things like this. I can't explain it, or I can, but it would just emphasize how ridiculous I am.

I have a plane ticket to go to Nebraska June 19th. I had it before this ever happened. It was supposed to be a visit with my friend, Kay, on her dime. So far, she hasn't paid me back, and I wrote many pages on the subject over the weekend that I fully intend to post, though I will have to amend it now. How I handle that situation depends on if I will have to make a separate trip out there. If I do, I hope it's afterward. I want to see her alive one more time.

Today is my parents' anniversary. They are spending it apart, because my dad is working at his job in Colorado, and my mom is with her mom in Nebraska. They planned on spending it together, but it didn't work out that way. My dad's mom died on my mom's birthday. I hope their anniversary isn't marked by the same sadness.

My birthday is this Sunday. I felt indifferent about it before, but now I'm afraid of it. All I ask for my birthday is one miracle.

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