Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Crocs Rule!
I have to admit that I don't watch the "Crocodile Hunter" all the time, but every time I did catch the show ... Irwin's enthusiasm caught me. Here was a bloke who believed what he said and lived by it consistently. The world is a little less bright without him.
No, that doesn't do it right. I'm actually surprised at how Irwin's death has grieved me. There's a lot going on in my life right now. Possible job opportunities, grandmother having surgery on the 13th (at 96 no less), a sister in a car accident with an uninsured driver (no one hurt, thank God - literally), lots of work related things going on with new people and such. It's been nuts. I worked last weekend, I work this weekend after a concert with friends on Friday night, visit the folks on Sunday and search for tap shoes for a class I'm taking, a four hour CPR course the hospital is requiring (at least they're paying PRN rates!). Oh, and guilt for not being with grandmother for the surgery. Yet, Steve Irwin's death has really struck home with me. I liked him and didn't even know how much.
Steve, we'll miss you.
Ok. Why I'm not going to visit my grandmother prior to surgery. Simple. She will NEVER let me take care of her. If I visit, and this is the gospel truth, she will "entertain me". She'll worry about if I have enough to do, but only "guest" stuff. She won't let me cook or clean, although she will let me clear the table. Remember, she's 96 and lives alone and still enjoys a full and active life. Sharp as a tack and mean to boot. She is a southern housewife and she is not willing to share that role. If I cook or clean for her, she will follow behind me with her arthritic knees and redo it all. When I was 28 years old she offered me a snack and I accepted a bananna. She then told me how to hold and peel said banana. At 28 years old. Oh, and when a bachelor delivered something to her door, she told him about her cute 22 year old granddaughter, with me in the next room. I laughed and asked her if her memory was slipping, I was something like 26 or 28 at the time. She said no, but "he looked 23, so 22 would be perfect for him".
What this all boils down to is this. My grandmother lives her life and enjoys it tremendously. She has every bit of her mind and her memories. She is not in a nursing home and is very active, if a bit slower to move around than 10 years ago - but then, so am I.
I'm not ready to let her go. Part of me feels I would do her a disservice by visiting and having her worry over me too. But part also feels that if I visit now, I'm saying goodbye. And I can't do that. Not yet, not now. My friends say "but she's 96!". Yeah, and I work daily with the elderly. She beats 'em all. I see people in their 60's worse off than my grandmother, they're done. They've given up trying to walk again and cry because it hurts. It does hurt and it is tough, I see it all the time - some triumph and some don't. But Genie hasn't given up yet and I'm not ready to give her up. Selfish maybe, but it's the truth.
Selfish Lola now says goodnight.
No, that doesn't do it right. I'm actually surprised at how Irwin's death has grieved me. There's a lot going on in my life right now. Possible job opportunities, grandmother having surgery on the 13th (at 96 no less), a sister in a car accident with an uninsured driver (no one hurt, thank God - literally), lots of work related things going on with new people and such. It's been nuts. I worked last weekend, I work this weekend after a concert with friends on Friday night, visit the folks on Sunday and search for tap shoes for a class I'm taking, a four hour CPR course the hospital is requiring (at least they're paying PRN rates!). Oh, and guilt for not being with grandmother for the surgery. Yet, Steve Irwin's death has really struck home with me. I liked him and didn't even know how much.
Steve, we'll miss you.
Ok. Why I'm not going to visit my grandmother prior to surgery. Simple. She will NEVER let me take care of her. If I visit, and this is the gospel truth, she will "entertain me". She'll worry about if I have enough to do, but only "guest" stuff. She won't let me cook or clean, although she will let me clear the table. Remember, she's 96 and lives alone and still enjoys a full and active life. Sharp as a tack and mean to boot. She is a southern housewife and she is not willing to share that role. If I cook or clean for her, she will follow behind me with her arthritic knees and redo it all. When I was 28 years old she offered me a snack and I accepted a bananna. She then told me how to hold and peel said banana. At 28 years old. Oh, and when a bachelor delivered something to her door, she told him about her cute 22 year old granddaughter, with me in the next room. I laughed and asked her if her memory was slipping, I was something like 26 or 28 at the time. She said no, but "he looked 23, so 22 would be perfect for him".
What this all boils down to is this. My grandmother lives her life and enjoys it tremendously. She has every bit of her mind and her memories. She is not in a nursing home and is very active, if a bit slower to move around than 10 years ago - but then, so am I.
I'm not ready to let her go. Part of me feels I would do her a disservice by visiting and having her worry over me too. But part also feels that if I visit now, I'm saying goodbye. And I can't do that. Not yet, not now. My friends say "but she's 96!". Yeah, and I work daily with the elderly. She beats 'em all. I see people in their 60's worse off than my grandmother, they're done. They've given up trying to walk again and cry because it hurts. It does hurt and it is tough, I see it all the time - some triumph and some don't. But Genie hasn't given up yet and I'm not ready to give her up. Selfish maybe, but it's the truth.
Selfish Lola now says goodnight.
# posted by Qeltic @ 11:48 PM 
