Tough Heart

I woke up early Friday morning to a text from my mother. “grandpa’s in the hospital with a possible heart attack. please pray for him & the tests but also grandma who’s driving around down there by herself.” Mr.U climbed back in bed and I whispered the news in disbelief before burrowing my head in his neck. I thought about grandma sitting somewhere alone with a million questions about the health of her soulmate and my heart just shattered into pieces. My other grandparents (vacationing for their 50th) packed up and drove to be with her. With all of them over 20hsr away from me, there wasn’t much I could do but worry.
I went through the morning trying to keep my mind calm&clear – hard but necessary since I had an interview at 4pm. Tidbits of information kept me upset&distracted, though. She’d gone to the wrong hospital – sat in the waiting room asking employees for help who looked at her in confusion until my dad figured out where she needed to be. I immediately called her – needing to hear her voice – and the frustration in her words was overwhelming. I stifled my emotions for her and stated very matter-of-factly that everything would be ok. (a phrase I’d normally hate, but clung to in an attempt to reassure myself.)
Saturday morning, I got the news that it still wasn’t. He’d developed pneumonia in both of his lungs and they were having a hard time raising his oxygen levels to treat the illness. I went about my day – basically numbed – and got ready for a night in Chicago with friends, my brother, and Mr.U. We were sitting at a bar laughing&drinking when I noticed my brother walking somberly toward me.
“can you come outside?”
I followed.
He turned and threw his arms around me.
“grandpa had another heart attack. they’re not giving him much time.”
I just cried – whimpered in defeat – crumbled to the sidewalk with my back against the brick building – and tried to process his words.
“you know he’s at peace – it’s grandma I’m worried about.”
I nodded in agreement.
Those lovebirds are the most perfect pair in existence and grandpa would do absolutely anything for her – everyone knows that inside his failing body, he’s worrying about her – not himself. And apparently he’s so worried that he’s not giving up yet. After 2 heart attacks, 2 surgeries, and 2 lungs infected with pneumonia, he’s stabilized again and “not much time” has turned to “long recovery ahead.” I guess I’m not sure how to react. Part of me doesn’t want to hope too high and the rest of me believes that he’ll never actually go. All I know is: I wish they were here. My mom, aunt, and cousin are now in Florida with grandma and I wish they’d all just get back here.