She Doesn't Have a Middle Name
My maternal grandmother, my only surviving grandparent, is a real sassy bitch. She's witty and tough with a biting sense of humor and a willful spirit.
If you've met me, especially you've bought me a drink, I think you know what I mean.
The other day, the police found her, driving the wrong way down a one-way street and confused, and they called Social Services. My mother really freaked out when she suggested that my grandma see a doctor and instead of her usual, "I don't need to see a doctor! I'm healthier than you are!" she just nodded. And then asked, again, what day it was. They believe she's had a small stroke.
I'm taking my kids to see her on Saturday. Because, even though she isn't sure what day it is, she is sure that she hasn't yet seen my son. And she's right.
If you've met me, especially you've bought me a drink, I think you know what I mean.
The other day, the police found her, driving the wrong way down a one-way street and confused, and they called Social Services. My mother really freaked out when she suggested that my grandma see a doctor and instead of her usual, "I don't need to see a doctor! I'm healthier than you are!" she just nodded. And then asked, again, what day it was. They believe she's had a small stroke.
I'm taking my kids to see her on Saturday. Because, even though she isn't sure what day it is, she is sure that she hasn't yet seen my son. And she's right.
2 Comments:
Ah, this tugs at my heartstrings. I never really felt I could take a deep breath, a proper breath, after I had each of my babies, until I'd placed that baby in my grandma's arms. Once I did, I could breathe.
Oh no. I'm so sorry about your grandma. She sounds very much like my own, who had a mini-stroke last year. Hugs.
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