Whew...

This last week has been one that I hope not to repeat again soon...which could actually happen (well, part of it). First, I heard the terrible news last Thursday that my little sis had miscarried. It's so awful that people out there are purposely killing their unborn children when my sis and her husband who really want children just lost one. She's doing ok considering, but she probably just hasn't had a whole lot of time to think about it. Friday, my grandpa was readmitted to the hospital due to a perforated colon. He had surgery Saturday morning, and although he came out of the surgery ok, his heart stopped while they were bringing him out of the anesthetics. They were able to bring him back, and when my dad and his sister asked if he wanted to keep fighting or give up, he made it clear he wanted to keep fighting. But it didn't look good, so my older sis and I drove home Saturday night.

We spent all day Sunday at the hospital. Grandpa had a breathing tube in so he couldn't talk, but we took turns sitting around his bedside holding his hand. Sometimes when I was holding his hand and he would squeeze it, it felt like he was comforting us, not the other way around. Monday they took the tube out so he could talk, and the first thing he wanted to do was get up because he said that was the only way he could get better. We told him that his oldest daughter was driving in from Alabama, so he fought to stay awake so he could see her. We said a rosary with him before she arrived (one of the three he usually says daily!). Later on, he was getting so tired and was in a lot of pain, so he would holler out to try to get the nurses. It was so hard to see him like that. They had to sedate him to help him sleep that night.

Tuesday he really wasn't much better, and we didn't stay at the hospital too long because he needed to rest. My aunts decided to list him as a "Do Not resuscitate" since he was in so much pain and his heart was in such bad shape (he has a living will which also states that). I was doing ok until I heard them say that, and then one of my aunts hugged me and I started bawling. She tried to comfort me and said she knew he was like a second dad to me since I spent so much time on the farm with him. It really hit me then that he was going to die. But I just have to think about him and how much pain he's in and how he was always content with dying.

Today we came back to Colorado. Grandpa is still hanging in there, but we couldn't just sit around waiting for him to die. And who knows, he's pulled through before, maybe he will again. I hate not being there for him, but there isn't much I can do. He knows I was there, and that makes he feel better. It was a really draining week, and I know someday (be it soon or not) I'll have to go through it again. I guess you can just never really be prepared for these things. And I can't imagine what it's going to be like when it's my own parents...I don't even want to think about that...