Catching Idle Butterflies

A wasted life?

“Looking back I realized I have nothing to show for my life.”

An understandable comment when you’re put in the hospital with water in the lungs and congestive heart failure. As the doctors and nurses give you medication every four hours, the occasional (and painful) replacement of an IV when the previous one popped, and vital checks every few hours, you lay in this bed with the same four walls, only the television to keep you company, what is a 92 year-old woman to do but think on her life, and the ever present knowledge that her life it at sunset?

Dave and I arrived at the hospital Friday afternoon. His grandmother, tiny thing she is, looked even smaller in that big hospital bed. Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes mere slits.

I watered the bouquet of flowers we purchased and placed in a clear glass vase with a little white teddy bear hugging the neck (cute little thing. I wanted to keep it for myself ). She loved it (darn it. That means she'll keep it.)

The more time we spent with her, the more she perked up.

Then she made that statement about her having lived a worthless life. I wanted to disagree, a lengthy list of all her accomplishments in just the 15 years I’ve known her scrolled through my inner eye, but my mouth felt glued shut. That little voice I’ve come to trust told me to stay mum. So I did.

Dave, however, had no such constraints. He disagreed.

Grandma, as stubborn as she is, said, “For one, I’ve never learned how to drive.”

Dave and I both laughed. Of all the things to regret, that’s the first she came up with?

“Everyone knows how to drive, Grandma,” Dave said. “That’s not unusual. What is unusual, and a point of pride, I think, is that you’ve never driven a car. I even brag to people that my grandmother, 92 years old, has never driven a car.”

We then went on to other subjects, laughed a whole lot, because both Dave and Grandma have terrific senses of humor.

For instance, Dave at one point asked if he could bring her anything for next time, such as crosswords. She loves crosswords, and completes the ones in the newspaper every day -- in ink no less!

She glared at him and said, “Hey, you save those cross words for others.”

Yep, Dave has the same sense of humor she does, because he caught the pun way before I did.

“I’ll never have cross words for you, Grandma,” he said. “I save those for Uncle Ben and Uncle Bill.”

“Good,” she said. “They need them.”

No matter how bad Grandma feels she doesn’t complain. Whenever anyone comes to her house, she’s running about making sure they’re comfortable, have plenty of coffee or other drink of choice, and lots of food to add stretch marks to the tummy. She’s polite and gracious to the extreme (story to come tomorrow about that).

I’m reminded of PastVoices ’s blog entry "Invalid Entry"  about how people remember not so much what people have done with their life, but how they made others feel. Grandma Woods will always be at the top of my list for having the ability to make sure I felt welcomed, loved and comfortable. For that, I count hers not as a wasted life, but one of ultimate success.

To switch gears just a tad, we did visit her Saturday and Sunday, and each visit showed marked improvement, both her health and attitude. The fluids are leaving her body, and both her lungs and heart are under much less pressure. I imagine she’ll be home soon.

She’s a tough little lady.

I pray God doesn’t need her humor and warmth in Heaven any time soon, because I kinda like having her down here.