And, now, as I write this, I am in a hosptial room watching her sleep.

Eleven years ago, Colon Cancer almost took my nana from me.  The surgery, radiation and chemotherapy were too much for her littl 4'10" 105lb body.  It was a miracle in itself that she rebounded the way she did.  What has happened though in the eleven years that have followed is that her digestive tract has slowly but surely started to reject most foods that she ate.  She can no longer eat dairy products, most vegetables make her sick, no sauces, or desserts.  She's never eated chicken or fish. So, she's left with peanut butter, bananas, crackers, cranberry juice and pasta.  She only drinks when she takes her meds, and even that is just a half a dixie cup.

All of this leads up to the events of Christmas Day.  She started throwing up and became severely dehydrated and was taken to the hospital.  

She has three children.  Two, my mother and my uncle, live here.  My aunt lives in NJ.  Unfortunately, this Christmas, they are all up north visiting family and cannot get flights back here.  This is where I come in.  I sit here and send them text messages all day.  It makes it easier for them to be there and not here.

I'm always the one to take over anyway.  It is my coping mechanism. So I've been here since she was admitted.  I can't not be here for her, she's always been there for me.

She says she likes knowing that I am here...so I stay.  I watch her sleep and I watch her be stubborn and cranky, and sick and weak and frail, and cranky and I remember all the things we've done together all my life.  She is as important as my mom.  She's my nana.  

She used to make me eat Lentil soup and at 5 I asked her why she was making me eat mud.

She caught me drinking at a party in our house when I was 16.  I had a colander on my head. She always brings it up when I have a glass of wine.

My brother always thought the vacuum was an italian curse word because that's what she said when she vacuumed.  

I remember being young and she and Pop would take me to a restaurant called Oceans 20.  I thought it was the Ritz-Carlton.  I'd put on my best dress, do my hair in curls and even wear gloves if I was allowed.  I thought I was so special there with them.

I remember working with nana and pop at the pharmacy.  Pop was a pharmacist in a bad part of town.  He thought it was good for me to work there and see how it really was.

I remember a thousand other reasons to be here with her, yet I don't need any reasons.  Being my nana is reason enough.

 

POSTED BY MARISA GARY AT 2:03 PM 5 COMMENTS