A Feeling of Detachment

I always felt like I got cheated in the grandparent department. My mother's parents both died when she was a child so I have no memory of maternal grandparents. From what I've been told, my father's father was a rascally ol' toot when my dad was a boy, but by the time I entered the picture, Granddaddy had mellowed into a fine imitation of Santa Claus. The man spoiled me rotten. But alas, he died when I was in second grade so I didn't get to have him long. Maybe on some level he knew, and that's what all the spoiling was about.

So that left Grandmother, my father's mother. Not Grandma, not MeeMaw, no it was Grandmother or nothing, and you better make sure to enunciate the "d" in the middle or she would be sure to correct you. She was not the traditional granDmother at all...no cookie-baking for her. She was tall and thin and always perfectly coiffed and dressed. She smelled of cigarettes and permanent solution (she was a hairdresser by trade, a career woman before her time).

She felt it was her personal mission in life to improve the people around her, which sounds admirable but is not much fun actually. Try writing your granDmother a letter, only to have it returned with the grammar, punctuation and spelling corrected for your betterment. Ah, fun times.

One of her quirks was that she was the self-appointed guardian of our eyesight, and she was always, ALWAYS telling us not to rub our eyes, lest we get a detached retina. Apparently one of her "patrons" as she called them, got a detached retina and it was her goal in life to prevent that fate from befalling anyone in her family.

Ok, so fast forward a bazillion years and we come to last Sunday, when I suddenly lost part of my vision in my right. Oh no, I thought, I've detached my retina! Well, low and behold if that wasn't the case. GranDmother is up in heaven tsking away and saying "I told you so" right now, I just know it.

So, I have had some horrible medieval torture devices used on me in the name of medicine and am now recuperating at home where I must rest on my left side for the next seven to ten days. Not as easy or as restful as you would think.

To top things off, my beloved SIL has a malignant tumor the size of a grapefuit and a benign tumor the size of a watermelon, both in her abdomen. She is in the hospital awaiting a battle plan. Prayers and healing thoughts are encouraged and appreciated.