So tonight I was in the hospital waiting room because my grandpa was in the ER (again). I had some things on my mind so I trekked around the hospital in search of some paper to write some things down. This is what I wrote:
It's amazing how life goes on for everybody else when someone you know dies. Shouldn't the globe stop spinning? Shouldn't everyone hold their breath until I've had a proper cry? Shouldn't the world listen to my sobs and shuttering breaths while I spit out my sorrow? Doesn't anyone want to be in touch with my emotions? Doesn't anyone want to be close to me to help me through this?
I am sitting in a hospital right now and someone else's grandpa just died. Mine is in for a swollen arm, which could be a stroke or an infection from a bug bite. Strange how death was never a reality for me until it happened to someone else outside of my family. I guess I just realized that because life goes on for other people, death is part of the natural cycle. This feeling is so foreign to me. As I watched the family run back and forth from the ER to the quiet room, holding their faces through gasps and sobs, I felt so isolated and helpless. I wanted to be apart of their sorrow; I wanted to let them know that the worold would stop for me too if they wanted it. I saw some Mormon missionaries rush through the front door smoothing their ties; I couldn't help but think of some corporate CEOs hurrying to take care of some corporate emergency.
I wonder if my grandpa is okay. Sometimes I wish that it would be something really serious that might threaten/take his life -- at least that way we wouldn't have to worry about him all the time. He was telling me that he woke up in the middle of the night on the floor trapped in a pile of junk that used to be in his closet. Why was it not in his closet? Because he is an 89 year old, stubborn as hell, Basco who decided he needed to insolate his mobile home by himself. Holy crap. I swear if he doesn't stop, we're going to find him dead in his house.
There's a Pentacostal minister and his mother in the wairnig room with me. It sounds like his father might be in bad shape. They're surprisingly calm right now. A nurse is speaking with them as I write and explaining to them the extent of his symptoms. They're reacting like a mechanic is telling them what is wrong with their car. They ask procedural questions for more information into the whole process, not questions like, "Will he make it," or "Is it serious?" Geez, these people are calm. It presents an interesting dychotomy when placed next to the family that just had a death. The minister's obese wife is asking about the West Nile Virus; apparently, the patient might have that.
You know the FTD logo? Pretty ironic and harmonic that Hermes is their "mascot" considering he is the guy that guides the dead down the river Styxx. I wonder if anyone else thinks about these things.
Man, I had hoped to be in Reno by now. I wonder how my grandpa is doing....
I am sitting in a hospital right now and someone else's grandpa just died. Mine is in for a swollen arm, which could be a stroke or an infection from a bug bite. Strange how death was never a reality for me until it happened to someone else outside of my family. I guess I just realized that because life goes on for other people, death is part of the natural cycle. This feeling is so foreign to me. As I watched the family run back and forth from the ER to the quiet room, holding their faces through gasps and sobs, I felt so isolated and helpless. I wanted to be apart of their sorrow; I wanted to let them know that the worold would stop for me too if they wanted it. I saw some Mormon missionaries rush through the front door smoothing their ties; I couldn't help but think of some corporate CEOs hurrying to take care of some corporate emergency.
I wonder if my grandpa is okay. Sometimes I wish that it would be something really serious that might threaten/take his life -- at least that way we wouldn't have to worry about him all the time. He was telling me that he woke up in the middle of the night on the floor trapped in a pile of junk that used to be in his closet. Why was it not in his closet? Because he is an 89 year old, stubborn as hell, Basco who decided he needed to insolate his mobile home by himself. Holy crap. I swear if he doesn't stop, we're going to find him dead in his house.
There's a Pentacostal minister and his mother in the wairnig room with me. It sounds like his father might be in bad shape. They're surprisingly calm right now. A nurse is speaking with them as I write and explaining to them the extent of his symptoms. They're reacting like a mechanic is telling them what is wrong with their car. They ask procedural questions for more information into the whole process, not questions like, "Will he make it," or "Is it serious?" Geez, these people are calm. It presents an interesting dychotomy when placed next to the family that just had a death. The minister's obese wife is asking about the West Nile Virus; apparently, the patient might have that.
You know the FTD logo? Pretty ironic and harmonic that Hermes is their "mascot" considering he is the guy that guides the dead down the river Styxx. I wonder if anyone else thinks about these things.
Man, I had hoped to be in Reno by now. I wonder how my grandpa is doing....
Now that I re-read it, it sounds pretty unfeeling. Oh well, that's what was going through my head at the time.
Time fer bed chillins. I'll see y'all in da mahnin' at chuwch, righ'?
Time fer bed chillins. I'll see y'all in da mahnin' at chuwch, righ'?
posted by Maturity @ 1:28 AM
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