I Hate Hospitals

The last time a family member of mine checked into a hospital he never left.  My father died before my eyes and then I had to return a few days later and have the doctors turn off the machines that were keeping his corpse breathing.

My grandfather checked into the hospital early this week.  He's going to have a quadruple bypass at 7:30 this morning.  My grandmother, who was a nervous wreck when my father went through this proceedure 12 years ago, must be terrified.  My Grandfather's mother died the day my father had his bypass.  Today is not going to be a good day.  I can't sleep.  I'm so worried, about both of them.  But I cannot go and be there for her.  I can't.  I don't know if I'll ever be able to set foot, willingly, in another hospital.  Sure, the lobby, the ER if I absolutely must, but the ICU? the Care Wards?  I can't.  The idea of it makes me want to wretch.

I hate being this silly.  It's disgusting.  I'm too logical, too cold and calculating.  But every time I think about it I see my father's eyes as the light goes out behind them.

So I'll sit here in the dark, in my safe little home, 50 miles away from the action, and hope.  I don't pray.  I don't believe that god responds to prayer.  But I will hope.  I hope that my 85 year old grandfather is strong enough to survive this terrible operation.  That he is strong enough to fight back through the rehab.  And that my gradmother is strong enough to be strong when I am too weak to stand by her.

I Hate Hospitals, and I hate that I'm afraid of them, and I hate loosing people I love... and I hope I live long enough that everyone who cares about me has passed on first, just so they never have to say goodbye to me.  I hope I don't loose anyone today.

Goodluck Murray Grant.  I'm hoping for you.