or How The Hell Do I Stop This Crazy Ride
Grandpa and Grandma slinked in like ninja a couple of weeks ago. Krista informed me that this day would be coming weeks beforehand but like any diagnosis that doesn't have a good outcome, we tried to block it out of your mind completely and hoped beyond hope for a miracle like something on Touched by an Angel. So it was rather a surprise when I came home Friday after work with a song in my heart and joy in my mind because it was finally the weekend and I was tired that I saw that red car in the driveway and my heart sank like a fucking stone.
Grandpa is more machine now than man, oxygen tanks, motorized scooter, defibrillator and God knows what other after market replacement parts plus diabetes, bladder issues, prostate cancer, high cholesterol and a hatred for socialized medicine though he is getting all his health care via the Veterans Administration. Grandma has brain cancer, a beard, missing front teeth and also is a diabetic.
Let me put it like this, they have a small dog and named it Benji.
So I was surprised that Sunday talking to Grandpa about his low salt diet as I watched him mixing left over manwich, refried beans, pico and salsa together in a medium sized Tupperware bowl and shoveling it down between breaths from his oxygen line. Grandma on the other hand ate an entire pound of candy corn in 3 days. They really don't understand healthy eating I don't think.
I know this sounds like complaining but to tell you the truth I really like these people, well Grandpa at least. He always has some stories about Vietnam or living in Arizona or a good fart story to help pass the time. I hate to see him eating this shitty food and driving himself to the grave faster, well as fast as a Rascal can go loaded down with Oxygen tanks.