My Gramps

This was the speech I made at my gramps' funeral. I meant to post it sooner, but then I didn't.

My name is Holly, and I am the second daughter of Hayley, the second daughter. I have a lot of memories with Grampa. But a time that is special to me was when I lived with Gramma & Grampa when I was little. Mom was working at the factory back then, so I had to go to Happyland, which was not as fun as it sounds. Grampa used to take me in his big ol' Caddy. On good days, he'd take me with him to Chinatown instead and I'd hang out while he played mah jong. Car rides were pretty awesome. As child safety wasn't in yet, I got to ride in the front seat with him. He'd reach over and squeeze my leg. He liked to do it harder and harder until you complained of the pain and then he would laugh. I used to try and hold out as long as I could but eventually he always won. Days with him were way better than days with all those kids at Happyland. Grampa would make me sandwiches that he cut into 4 strips because it was easier to eat that way. He also slipped me money when no one was looking. And even though my mom ended up with it all back then, he continued to do this every time I saw him in the years that followed. One time more recently I went to see him in the home with Uncle Willie and he kept asking Uncle Willie to give him money. Uncle Willie finally gave in and gave him $10, and Grampa proceeded to gift it to me. When my mom was working, sometimes while I was still sleeping, Uncle Willie or Uncle Wilson would come into my room and grab me then dump me in Grampa's bed. I would scramble to climb out- I was terrified that one day he'd roll over and that would be it. All the early stuff I can remember is from my time in LA living in that house. I loved Grampa's bobble head dog in his car. I loved being allowed to go anywhere with him. I loved sneaking into him and Gramma's room and looking at the pictures on his desk. I loved the way he stood with his hands folded over his belly all the time. I visited him as often as I could but I think the best times we had together were back then, when he was my babysitter, my chef, my chauffeur, and my best friend.

30

Just turned 30 the other day. Doesn't feel different. But I remember it, so that's an improvement from most of my 20s. In fact, looking back, a lot of my 20s are a blur. So this decade of my life, I will be Sober, and I will remember things. Or at least, what I can with what's left of my remembering cells. 30. I tried to quit drinking the first time around... I want to say 24 but who really knows. It didn't stick until I was 28. Now I'm 30. I've been dry for almost 2 years. A huge change is that I'm weepy now. Maybe that's Sobriety, maybe it's my old lady hormones. Except that 30 isn't old. I don't feel old. But I feel weepy. Things make me cry that didn't before. TV or movie moments that are poignant for the family onscreen. Saying good-bye. Other people crying. Situations that remind me of something emotional in my life- even if I wasn't able to show emotion when it happened. Now I really feel all those formerly suppressed feelings. Is it Sobriety or is it 30? Who knows... But I think I like this Me. Definitely an improvement over crazy drunk angry Me.

At the time of this posting, my grampa is in the hospital again. The doctors told my uncle something cryptic about it not looking good and tell family members. I hold onto the hope that I will see him when I go in 2 weeks. I will stay positive and stop being all weepy about it. I will see him in 2 weeks. And I will tell him I'm 30 now and thank him for being my best friend when I was 3. 30 is going to be a good year.

Sent from my awesome BlackBerry

WTF it's already November?

where did this year go?

so it's november. last year in november, my gramma passed away. and while i didn't see that coming, a part of me is bold enough to say that i don't see anything like that happening this year. then the other part of me is like shut the f up before you jinx yourself! and then i tell me that i'm not superstitious enough to care. but other me says maybe you are but denial is not just another river in egypt yo. to which all i have to say back is eat poop be happy.

but enough about the voices in my head. it's november. first things first, i bought my ticket to get out of here for xmas. i really want to be away this year. not just because my family here doesn't really do christmas the way it should be done, but because i really really miss the rest of my extended brood. despite the occasional drama, i'm always happy when i'm with them. and i think i just need it. it's been a long year. between the dead gramma issues and the not drinking demons, i just feel like i need a break from my life. but not the kind of break that is exotic and filled with strangers and maybe a couple of familiar people (although that sure worked for stella and look at her groove), but like the kind of break that involves being surrounded by people who love me. not that my parents don't love me, they really do. but it's just ... different. plus the wall to wall presents are balls of fun. and there are all these kids, but i actually like all of them. and there are grandparents, i can't get that here anymore.

oh holidays. how can i love you and hate you so much at the same time? i was just telling someone how much i dread xmas shopping because of the ring ring ringing of the bells from the fake santas and their charity buckets. and i hate the carollers. i don't care, i just don't enjoy it. i like xmas songs - done by like, sugarland or nsync or something lol. i don't like the la la fake opera carollers. with their curly tight hair and long old fashioned dresses. blah. oh, and i hate the crowds and the pushing and the desperation of people who have no idea what they're buying yet insist on slowly ambling thru the mall anyway, stopping just in front of you periodically as they realize they are in the mall and have no idea where they are going or what they are doing. get the f out of my way!! but i love the feel of xmas morning. i love the getting together with my fave people and opening the presents and all the fun stuff. i love my peoples. i hate shopping for them, but i love them.

Drugs Are Bad

yes, it's very soon after my last post, but it's one of those weeks i guess where there is just too much to contemplate over.

so if you follow, then you'll remember my lethargic grampa not remembering my name at home and then remembering it with attitude in the hospital before he was moved into another care facility. i was told that after he moved into the home, he went back to being lifeless and pretty much a zombie. my mom was telling me how they couldn't get him to do much when they were there and i got a couple updates, all pretty much saying he was losing it.

well through most of this my uncle who is the most involved with my grampa's health was away on business. upon his return he knew right away what the problem was. in fact, it was a repeat problem. back in the winter after my gramps suffered his bad fall and brain hemorrhaging, he was in the hospital and moved into a diff home. during the hosp stay, my uncle pointed out that this anti-depressant the docs put gramps on was making him a zombie. docs argued that he was depressed. the thing is, he wasn't depressed and lethargic till the bastards put him on that stuff. he was taken off the meds before he went into the rehab facility and during that time he had his moments where he was his stubborn self, but for the most part, at least he had energy and was willing to try his exercises. what we didn't know was that when he was sent home from this place some idiot put him back on the drugs. yes, it's crazy that there could have been this oversight and no one noticed but my gramps has 7 kids and they're old school so communication hasn't always been great.

we think that if he hadn't been on this stupid drug when he went home, he would've continued his exercises and had more life to him. he would have remembered my name and his face would have lit up like i'm used to when i walk in the room. he wouldn't have become a zombie sitting in his chair all day developing sores and subsequently a staph infection. he wouldn't have had to go back to the hospital and had a surgery. he wouldn't have been moved into a different home instead of staying in his actual Home. he'd be at home now probably, where he is the happiest. nope, instead of all the possibilities for the positives, now we're back to square one. my uncle had to berate the doctor for putting him back on the meds when it wasn't necessary (and deal with his jerkface behavior - wtf yo. you f'd up doc, just deal with it and help make it better. don't give the family any more grief). now that gramps is off the meds again, they say he is way more alert and has a lot more energy. sure, he's still as stubborn as ever, and having more energy means that when he's pissed off at you it's a way more boisterous pissed off - but i take that over zombie gramps any day.

of course it doesn't mean he can go home. he has fallen so behind because he wasn't able to do any therapy since he's been in this place. he's barely walked in the last couple of months, and when he does, it's not easy. it's bad enough that these people have to get old and have so many issues, but really doctor man, really - you're just going to put them on these drugs that zombify them and let them wait it out in retardation until they waste away? that's your answer? that's what your medical degree got you to? are you f-ing kidding me? a part of me wants to say that it must be because my gramps is stuck in the american system too, but that's not all of it. i mean, doctors aren't ALL bad. (yes, i'm referring to you bunches, you better have f-ing good bedside manners or we can't be cyber friends anymore). i just don't know why this doctor (and a few others my family has had to deal with) bothered with the years and years of starving studenthood and debt and hard work and no social life (oh yeah, that's a huge part of his lack of people skills i'm sure) just to get his med degree (i guess the money comes back more than you spent right), and then behaves like he's entitled. you're not entitled. patients are people too. my gramps may not have had the overextended education or the high paying salary, but he worked hard too. and he's a person, despite his old age. treat him with a little dignity. treat them all with a little more dignity. they all just waste away in this home under the "care" of this doctor and he doesn't even see it because he doesn't care. what a load of crap.

so my thoughts weren't exactly laid out in the skilled manner that you'd expect from an english major but suck it. i'm pissed off and my grampa deserves better. all these patients do.

i'm sure a huge part of the anger is my own guilt though. i can't be there. i don't visit every day. i don't even visit every month. i haven't seen him since april and the reality is, i don't know when i'll be going back down again. it's hard to be so far away. i miss ya gong. :(

i need a vacation after my vacation

i realize that i'm terribly inconsistent with this blogging thing. that's why i stopped using xanga after awhile (that, and it just got too damn complicated). but just because i forget to make time to come online and write random poop, doesn't mean my mind isn't constantly rolling out thoughts. but with tv being so good these days, who has time to just write? but now that i've finished reading the 4th twilight book and my dad is watching tv, guess i could spare a few for my 3 followers.

i'm indecided on where to start. i mean, sobriety is always there, lingering around everything that i do. every time someone asks if i want something to drink, even if they're referring to a non-alcoholic bev, my first thought is booze. i want to drink. but i say no. i was at this awesome party recently and the last time i hung out with all those people i drank till i ran into a wall and passed out. i wanted to drink with them. but i didn't. and i just kinda hung out instead and was a little less social than i could have been. it's hard. at least one person noticed and told me he was proud of me. that felt pretty good. in fact, most of the time it does feel nice when people comment on how well i'm doing. but sometimes it means nothing and i just want to drown my self-pity in a bottle of something delicious like asti. sobriety sucks.

so i finally got my chance to visit my gramparents in america. even though i took the time off and bought the plane ticket and was there, i feel kinda crappy in retrospect because i think i could have tried to spend more time with them, but i also wanted to have fun on my trip so i didn't. although, one day that i meant to be there for my gramps, i was completely thwarted by circumstance so i had to go babysit a newborn instead. great baby, so easy, lots of poop. so the first time i got to see my gramps, i went to their house with one of my cousins. she's been helping them clean out the house they have lived in since they moved to america. no joke, this house has more crap than the dump. she goes there for a few hours a week and just cleans out stuff. on that day i helped sort through boxes of old magazines and calendars, shoes, clothes, and documents. you have to flip through all the crap just to make sure there are no hidden treasures. and my gramma just comes around once in awhile to tell us NO! keep those! but the problem is that if she could have it her way, she'd keep everything! i found a calendar from 1994. there were suits from when my uncle was a small child. my grampa has more clothes than i do. he was a very dapper dresser in his day though, so i think that's actually pretty cool. let's backtrack. when i got to the house, after greeting my gramma, i went to say hi to my grampa. usually when he sees me he is very surprised and delighted because even though my gramma always knows when i'm coming to town, he never does. but it's cool because he lights up like a kid at christmas. i have always known that i'm one of his favorites. i know that people aren't supposed to have favorite anythings, but he couldn't help himself. i used to live there and he was my babysitter. he hung out with me when everyone else had to work. kinda odd now that i think about it because - why didn't he work? lol. but he'd take me with him to do his random shit, see his random people, and hang out while he played mah jong with other old people. he used to make fun of me in the car, where i rode in the front seat without a car seat because back then no one knew that it wasn't safe. i remember he had a blue town car and there was a doggy thing that had a bobble head that would sway as he drove. he used to make me sandwiches and cut them into 4 strips so that they would easily go into my little mouth. back then, my grampa was my best friend. i was only 3, what did i know? so this time i walked in and he was just sitting there, in his chair, eating some food, watching tv. and he was surprised, but not in his usualy delighted way. even though when he went home a month ago, they said he was going to be alright and he was doing his exercises and ready to go home, in that month he deteriorated to a zombie. ok, maybe not that bad, but it wasn't good. he couldn't remember my name. he knew that i was my mother's daughter, but he couldn't remember my name. and then it didn't seem to bug him that he couldn't remember. he just wanted to get back to eating and watching tv. and even when i went to sit with him after we did our cleaning for a couple hours, he still didn't seem to know or care that i was there. he looked up when i started channel surfing his tv, but then he just seemed resigned to watching whatever was on because it's not like he understood any of it anyway.

that made me really sad. i know it's not about me. and i know that i should not be sitting here feeling sorry about it because i'm not there. i haven't been there since the first day that he fell. i could have gone down there sooner but i couldn't handle visiting him in a hospital so soon after my evil gramma died in one. i waited until he was back at home. that was completely selfish. if i had gone sooner, he might have even known who i was. i waited till he became this person to go see him.

he went back into the hospital a few days after that. besides his state of being, which was making my aunts and uncles consider finding him a home to live in because it was getting too difficult for my gramma to take care of him and he was refusing to do anything, he also developed some sores from sitting and not exercising. and something got opened and infected so he needed a surgical procedure to remove the abcess. did i spell that right? i went to see him as soon as i could. as i said, i was thwarted from going the day he went in because i had to watch a newborn -my uncle had to go see a dr himself and my aunt had to bring in one of their doggies to be put to sleep. it wasn't a good day. well, maybe it kinda was because i got to spend time with my new little cousin and she won't remember this time, but i will. so i went to see him in the hospital before i left. his dr had recommended a home for him to move to because he makes rounds there regularly. somehow, it's the same home that my great gramma was living at before she died. the same home where my sister put the car in neutral and it rolled and she was lucky no one got hurt including the car. the same home where i saw my mom cry for the first time because there was a time in her life when her gramma was her best friend. but i'm getting ahead of myself. i went to see my grampa and i didn't know what to expect because he had been really tired the day before and wouldn't wake up even when ppl went to see him. he'd just gotten out of his procedure that morning and i just didn't know how much energy he would have or what meds he was on. but it was not at all bad. he woke up when i went in and he knew who i was. my aunt asked him what my name was and he looked at her like she was stupid and said my name like it was the most obvious answer in the world. i didn't know how badly i was feeling about him forgetting me until i realized how great it felt when i remembered. and i think he was about as lit as one can be while on meds and post-surgery. and even though he fell asleep after that and i couldn't even wake him up to eat, i know that he opened his eyes when i kissed him goodbye and i know that he knew who i was. i went to see my gramma after that and i checked out the home he'd be moving into. as i walked up the front steps i knew that was somewhere i had been before, even if it was over 25 years ago. my gramma seems to be doing well, i'm really not worried about her. but i hope with all of my heart that i will see my grampa again. since i've been home, i know they had him moved into the home. i've heard that he doesn't really like it there and that he's having a harder time remembering people. i wish i could have stayed longer. i wish i could go back. i wish a lot of things. i know that he is a stubborn old man and that he can be mean. but i hope that he's comfortable.

the sad thing is that as we grow older, so do all the older people around us. i'm not really prepared for any more losses. and while i don't want to talk about my gramps like this is the end, because i don't think that it is, it's like i have been preparing myself for it. i was caught so off-guard when my evil gramma died; maybe i'm just trying to be mentally ready for when it happens again. is that morbid? awful? i don't even know. but i also don't think that i'll ever really be ready for it. guess i can only hope that every time i go back he'll still be there, hopefully lighting up when he sees me.

the grampeople

while i'm usually a huge doink when it comes to people who can't spell things, one of the words i misspell on purpose is gramma. the other is grampa. why? because that's what i call them or how i refer to them in the third. not as grandma, gramma.
so just bear with me.
my evil gramma died suddenly in november. not like, suddenly one day she just died, but like, unexpectedly she had this silent heart attack and we were in the hospital with her everyday and the doctors and nurses gave us mixed messages ("i'm not saying she's dying, but if there are people who need to be notified, then you should notify them." because she's dying? "no, there is hope for recovery.") not to come down on the medipeople because the nurses that i talked to were pretty cool and nice and answered all of our questions. but i think i just didn't want to have hope if it was futile because you get the bigger letdown when they suddenly die, and that is what she did. or maybe if i wasn't hopeful then it wouldn't have been sudden, i would have seen it coming from the day she was admitted. maybe on some level i had a feeling she was going to die but i didn't want to say it because that would be awful, especially if she did die, and then she did and i didn't want to be the a-hole who said stupid things. in fact, in retrospect, i was so zen from the time of her admission and at times the most mature person in the room (amongst my parental generation) that on some level, i think i knew it was her time because if i thought she was going to live, i probably would not have been so kind and zen, i would've been like how some other people were being because as i said in the beginning of this diatribe, she was my evil gramma.
and now you say, she's gone dude, how can you say that? and the thing is, when someone you have lived with your whole life was rarely nice to you, and even then you suspected she was only being nice because she had ulterior motives, and for several years - decades even - you referred to her as your evil gramma, well old habits die hard.
so my evil gramma suddenly died and it was actually really hard because we had such a difficult relationship but we were also close on a different level because she has lived with me my whole life except for the last year. and while still emotionally numb because of the last bit of boozing and a hard shot of denial, my grampa on the other side (who is miles and miles away) takes a bad fall, has brain hemorrhage (maybe in reversed order; i'm unclear as to which led to the other), and had a long ass hospital stay in a country where health care really really sucks. not to disparage against my doogsabunch friend, but the doctors that dealt with my gramps seem to be uncaring ding dongs and communication has been completely lacking. he was finally discharged but the family has moved him into a facility of some kind that has PTs and OTs and nurses and he has available care 24/7. but you know, health care sucks in america so the fams worries about insurancey things. plus there's the how long it will take, how will the transition back home be, will the doctors ever stop sucking?
so i feel really guilty right now because i don't really know how to resolve my evil gramma feelings; i drank a lot last year and so i'm emotionally devoid (i don't know how that works, but boozing actually makes me stop feeling things. it was really useful in certain situations); and i feel like i should do more to help with my grampa. like maybe i should go there. but then will i make a difference? would i just get in the way? i don't know.
anyway, this is me at nearly 1am, not sleeping because i worry that i'm not feeling enough about everything that is going on. [insert raspberry here]. poop.

by the way F, you don't need to apologize for stealing my smallprint bits of uselessness. ever since the pop died, i think it was just waiting for someone to love it, and you do a much better job than i do.