Truly Thankful

I absolutely love my Granddaddy. He's my last surviving grandparent. He’ll be 90 in January and has always been a tough old bird. He’s as smart and sassy as they come and his favorite things in life are ballroom dancing, cranberry juice, and playing the nickel slots. He still drives to Philadelphia, MS on occasion just to gamble – so watch out if you’re on that stretch of highway.

Since we have lived in Atlanta, I try to see him on his birthday and occasionally get to see him on the side when we make it down to visit. Since we generally only make it down about 3 times a year – this is tough. We usually get berated, albeit underhandedly by some family, for not stopping by when we’re in town. But the truth of the matter is you just can’t fit in everyone on one weekend visit.

On November 3 this year, we received a call that my grandfather was in the hospital. He’d been ill for a month, and we weren’t made aware of the situation. I was torn about whether or not to make a trip to Columbus to check him out. After briefly chatting with him on the phone the next day, I headed straight down to find my usually smooth and suave grandfather, with the quick wit of a much younger man, looking absolutely horrible and quite disoriented.

His ailment – a gangrenous gallbladder. Trust me; it looks even more hideous than it sounds. Photos from the surgery the following day showed portions of his gallbladder were black with decay. In fact, putrid would be a good adjective. I can’t imagine the pain he suffered. The surgery, however, was the easy part. Recovery was another story.

Though I remained positive about his small successes; the next week was extremely rough. I sat with him every day, feeding him, watching his mind go in and out, and playing watchdog because not every nurse does what he/she should. It seems for every good nurse there’s at least three that are just asking for you to take ‘em out.

Seven days after his surgery he was finally transferred back to Spring Harbor, a retirement community that aids with fulltime care if needed. He’s been a resident here for several years and the staff is crazy about him. Because I knew he would receive much better care, I came home to recover and to see my boys.

The following days were a struggle for my granddaddy. On November 19, things were looking so bleak it didn’t look like he would make it. We were told it would be just days. He was nearly impossible to rouse, all his blood work was off, and when he was conscious he was hallucinating. So we left that weekend preparing for the worst.

Then, out of the blue, things turned around. I’ll never forget walking into his room, leaning over his sleeping body, laying my hands on his chest, watching his baby blues pop open, and hearing him say “Heeeeeey there!” I almost cried.

As Thanksgiving week rolled on he got stronger and stronger. I was SO excited when I saw him pick up his water for the first time since his surgery (20 days!) and drink from a straw then pick up a banana and eat it by his self. By the time the weekend came around he was strong enough to walk to the door with aid of a walker and his wit could roll with the best of ‘em.

We saw a good bit of family on our visit home, and I never once thought to pull out my camera and take a picture. I was kind of bummed about it on the way home since I’m a photo nut, and we only see some family every few years. But then I realized that the one picture I really wanted for Thanksgiving I already had. I took it 4 days before Thanksgiving with my phone – My granddaddy on the mend.