Nana Vel

Yesterday morning around 5:30 the phone rings. It is my dear grandmother (Nana Vel). She tells me to get over to her apartment right away and she is very sick. I race over still half asleep and realize that she has either had a heart attack or something of that nature. I am getting very good at calling 911 and knowing what to expect at this point. This is the 3rd time this year with the same scenario. So, about 5 firemen and 3 paramedics cram into her tiny apartment which is already crammed to capacity with her nick nacks and everything else that grandmas of that generation tend to have (like 50 margarine tubs overflowing out of the cupboards).

Anyway, sure enough she is having congestive heart failure. This is continual, but she refuses to take the lasix (to remove the fluid from her lungs and heart) because she is convinced that they make her dizzy and like a "rubber band is around my head". So, I guess we can expect a trip to the hospital every couple of months. She has frustrated her doctor to no end and I have just given up on trying to convince her to take medication that makes her so unhappy. I think it is her body and she knows how she feels. (I have a bit of her stubborn streak with things like this)

The funny thing is, every time I get into the emergency room the first thing she asks me...mind you, there are tubes, and oxygen, and stuff stuck to her everywhere, IS TO COMB HER HAIR. That is so typical Nana Vel and I can totally see myself doing the same thing so I get it. She can't breathe, her heart is failing, but gosh darn it she doesn't want her hair sticking up!

So, I'm thinking I'll be taking her home in a couple of days and I'll be prepared to do it all over again by the holidays. I'll keep you posted.