Back again. Hospital time.
Have I mentioned how much I hate hospitals?
I hate the waiting, the smell, the uncomfortable chairs...
And I really hate the food.
What is the deal with hospital food?!
Dry, tasteless, unappealing... But I have to eat something.
And God knows that the cafeteria is cheaper than the vending machine.
...But not much.
Grandma is back in the hospital again.
Cancer. Again.
So we're taking out her Thyroid this time.
The woman is 89 years old. She was born in 1925. She's old.
And normally she's got a great attitude. But she is just not loving it this time.
She keeps asking "Well, why do I have to do this? I just don't see why I have to do this!"
To which we keep telling her ..."Well, you don't."
To which she replies "Well, it's too late now."
My mom's worried about this one.
She's not coming out and saying it, but she's worried that Gram isn't going to come out of this one.
And I'm doing my best to be supportive. Dotting all the "I"s and crossing all the "T"s, and checking in as often as I can, and being loving and calm and supportive.
But all I want to do is run screaming out of here.
Away from all the smells and bad food and uncomfortable chairs.
Away from the overly friendly nurses with the hesitant eyes.
Away from the incessant clucking of the women in the chairs across from me.
Away from the truly shitty food.
Away from the whirring and beeping of machinery.
Away from all the scary possibilities of death.
I just want to run away. Find a place to lounge and cry and have someone hold me until I feel like myself again.
But instead, I'll drink my shitty coffee and eat my dry doughnut, and wait.
I fucking hate waiting.
