[blueerica]

Soooo... I'm just waiting out the time, feeling helpless and far away. My dad called last night to tell me that they've moved my grandma into hospice care. The awful part is that we've been trying to talk to the doctors for almost a week, and no one got back to us. Yesterday, my aunt gets a call from a doctor, not our doctor, or any of the other attending doctors, but some other doctor saying simply that "she's a perfect candidate for hospice."

Well, yeah, I knew that. This isn't my first time around the block with quickly degenerating illnesses, and I knew it was downhill, fast. But I'm hurt for the rest of my family. The doctors were entirely too optimistic, given the facts of the situation.

My family, on my father's side, is the kind that wants the truth; in our faces. It's easier to deal with and recover from tough facts than it is to recover from confusion and lack-of-communication. We've expressed this.

It's our mother, our grandma, our friend that's dying, and I guess it's easy to forget how hard that is. I just didn't realize how hard it would be to feel so far away. I'm just a quick plane ride away, but to what avail? She could go any minute now, and I got to have that "last conversation" with her last week, before and after they worked on her collapsed lung. How many people ever get that? Do I go back for a funeral, a memorial, a celebration of a life well-lived?

My aunt, the one I like to listen to in my moments of grief and confusion, said that I should probably just hold off on flying out, but to call. Yeah, tried that last night, and the bitch in the third bed said:

"Evelyn's watching TV."

"Oh, this is Erica, her granddaughter, is she able to talk?"

"Yes. Okay... bye!" <click>

Yeah, doesn't sound bitchy, but I've met the lady, and she's just like that.

I guess I'll try calling again today, and continue waiting until they say to come out.