Verily Verily

Grandma D. is back at the hospital. She is weak. Blood work shows a red blood cell count that is a little low, but not alarming. She is a little dehydrated, but not a lot. Grandma's blood sugar is 300+. She is listless and has to be fed and reminded to chew and then reminded to swallow.

She still has a sense of humor. When I was trying to encourage her once I said, "Good job, I'll take it." To which she gutturally replied, "I'll give it."

My Dad is her cheerleader. He is adamant with nurse Dede that she be given plenty of attention during breakfast the next morning. He wants someone to make absolutely sure she eats. I pray it gets done like she needs.

Grandma got out, "I don't want to stay here." Dad and I replied, "Then you have to eat."

Grandma is 77 and will be 78 in August.



Grandma B. is a ball of fire at 93. She was one of those women who is so short that she had to sit on a cushion to see over the dash. We asked her to stop driving and she refused, stubborn old bird. Grandma B. was 87 then. She stopped driving the day she pulled out of her driveway and got t-boned at 55 mph.

At the hospital during recuperation they exercised Grandma B. until she passed out. This happened twice. Grandma is still under the distinct impression that they were trying to kill her. She refused to exercise any further. Her doctor was furious.

A man who had been her doctor for 29 years was retired, but on the hospital board. He came by to visit and she complained that they were trying to kill her. The rehab stopped. I asked what the hero doctor's name was. I thought she said, "Doctor Lipshitz." I laughed. nh chimed in, "It's Dr. Lipshootz." I laughed again.

I've accepted km17's challenge as of today my blogs begin with not one, but two adverbs. Whooa!