Answers

JtI: How was the interview?

JtA: Awful.

JtI: Could you elaborate?

JtA: Yeah, I guess.

My interview was the last one of the day, at 3:20 PM. One of the people was coming down with a cold and the other two just looked plain tired. I spoke too quickly when I answered their questions and some times, while answering, I thought I was pretty much repeating things I'd said when I answered past questions, but teamwork is important when working with a group or people, dammit! And when it came time for me to ask them questions I just couldn't draw them out. They answered in clipped sentences and then sort of looked at me with their exhausted eyes, except for the one who was coughing, her eyes were all watery.

JtI: Did anything seem to go well?

JtA: I got there on time.

JtI: Okay, moving on. How was your visit with your grandpa?

JtA: Strange, hard, sad.

I got there after a fourish hour drive a little after 10 in the morning. He was awake and watching TV. I asked him how he was and he said tired and hungry, but okay. He wasn't in any pain, he said.

JtI: How is he?

JtA: He's scared.

I know he'd never admit it and he'd probably get really angry if he knew that I think he's scared, but he is.

Part of it is that at the time we didn't know what the hell caused the infections in his blood. There was simply no information, yet. The focus so far had been on getting him cleaned up, clear those buggers out of his system so they could move on to the next step. He's never liked a lack of information.

Another part is that he's afraid to die. He doesn't know what's coming next and that worries him. When he was young he was going to go to seminary and become a priest. I don't know what happened, but he didn't and eventually became a staunch atheist. A few years ago, he sort of backpedaled. He started watching that John Edward guy and found some comfort that maybe a part of him lived on, but that comfort also frustrated him some. He still didn't know what was going to come next. He still doesn't and no matter how often he tells people that he's okay dying, I don't think he is.

JtI: And at your visit?

JtA: He was hungry because he hadn't eaten since the day before. They wanted to do an MRI the day, but found some metal in him and put it off until they figured out whether or not it was safe to do it. He'd had an x-ray the afternoon before, but by the time I got there his doctor hadn't looked it over yet to make any decisions or get advice from the radiology department. The x-ray results were what everyone was waiting for.

He's really weak. He's not allowed to walk or get out of his bed by himself. I don't think he could even sit up if he wanted to.

After some very small talk, I've never been able to sustain real conversation with my grandpa while I was on my own, my aunt and grandma showed up.

JtI: How were they?

JtA: Okay. I mean they were functioning and didn't break down into uncontrollable crying, but how is someone supposed to act when every time something happens they are told to wait? There's nothing they could do.

My aunt was scared and angry and frustrated. She's one of those people who are always just a bit too uptight. She's always so worried about how everyone else is that she never really has a good time anywhere. When a disaster strikes she gets ever more uptight because unlike other situations there is nothing she can do about it. She can't make sure people's glasses are full; she can't pull out more chips or crackers; she can't put on music. All she can do is sit there and listen and wait and even when the waiting is done there's still nothing she can do because she isn't a nurse or an internal medical doctor or a specialist, she can only watch them go to work.

I could tell it drove her nuts, but she put on a hard face for my grandma. A couple of times, though, when she was talking to me, her voice got shaky and I thought she was going to cry. She didn't.

My grandma is just putting up a brave front. She loves my grandpa even though he can be quite a butt. This year, actually just before my visit, was their 67th (I think) wedding anniversary. That means something, right? She didn't like being in his room when anything even slightly medical was going on. A nurse came in to take his blood pressure and temperature and she was up and out of the room before the velcro was ripped.

She told me two things, in some private time, that really surprised me:
First, she said that she'd been to the hospital a lot recently and none of it was for her and she wondered why she kept coming.
Second, she said that she was afraid that she was just going to fall to pieces and not be able to be rebuilt. She's not like a jigsaw puzzle, she said.

JtI: And you?

JtA: Me?

I don't know. I don't like hospitals because I don't like being around people in pain or who are really sick. Other than that, I was okay.

I tried to make some jokes to lighten the mood. I listened to a lot of talk. I asked the doctor questions that I thought might be important. I put my arm on a shoulder when I thought it might do some good. I walked around with those who could.

I felt like I was there more for everyone else than I was there for me. I mean I went to mostly say good-bye in case he's coming to the end. That's what I wanted to do for me. The rest was trying to help the others through all the crap that's happening.

JtI: What's been found out since your visit?

JtA: He had an MRI the afternoon of my visit, but I was on my way to Cowtown by then since I had another two-and-a-half hour drive.

My grandma called the next day to let us know that they found the cause of the infections. He has an obstruction in his common bile duct. Yes, even without your gallbladder you can get a gallstone.

Today is the surgery, a laparoscopy. The hope is this'll stop the cause of the infections so he can finish off the antibiotics in two weeks and have a clean system. I haven't heard anything about it, yet. Maybe tonight or tomorrow.

JtI: Thanks.

JtA: 'Welcome.