Yiayia January 29, 2007

If there was any question that I am an emotional eater, please witness the following:

What I Ate (All From Major Chains, Coincidentally) On Saturday, The Day My Grandmother – And Favorite Person In The World – Was Admitted To The Hospital:

-Muffin (Starbucks)
-Grande Caramel Macchiato, with whole milk (Starbucks)
-2 cheeseburgers (McDonald’s)
-Fries (McDonald’s)
-Coke, of the non-diet variety (McDonald’s)
-Pretzel bites (Auntie Anne’s)
-Skillet Queso (Chili’s)
-Quesadilla Explosion Salad (Chili’s – and don’t be fooled by the word ‘salad,’ there was nothing healthy about it)
-Ice cream (Cold Stone Creamery)

I ate (and ate and ate) because the alternative was sitting in a hospital room, holding my grandmother’s hand, reassuring her that everything would be okay, while casting nervous glances at the doctors as they discussed, in hushed tones, what could possibly be wrong with her. I was trying to fill some sort of void through savory and sweet. My rational mind knows that that’s not possible but the Irrational Me of this past weekend didn’t quite give a fuck.

What I’ve learned: A healthy person’s liver enzymes round out somewhere around 20 or 30. Cause for concern usually starts around 80 or 100. My grandmother’s liver enzymes are somewhere around 1200. “Off the charts,” is the phrase the nurse used. (What I’ve also learned: You have to pay $8 a day to get phone and TV service in your hospital room. However, they will conveniently add it on to your home phone bill once you are discharged.)

It could be anything from a gallstone to a tumor. We’re still waiting. There are tests to be done.

Saturday and Sunday, in retrospect, seem like a blur. A blur of sterile walls and beeping machines and painful blood tests and anxious phone calls. I fell asleep at 10pm last night, emotionally spent, as M stroked my hair and told me everything was going to be fine.

I know she’s going to be fine. The doctors keep telling us that she looks “amazing” for someone her age (85). They are all in love with her, which is not surprising. They keep asking if they can take her home. They stroke her back and say, “she’s so cute!” and “I just love her!” and it’s weird, hearing that come from these serious people in white coats holding clipboards but then again, it’s not, because everyone who has ever met her has fallen in love with her.

Including, of course, M, who sat next to her and held her hand and talked to her about everything and nothing and made sure she was comfortable and straightened her blankets and found a show on Animal Planet that she wanted to watch and melted my heart in the process.

I’m at work now, but the anxiousness remains. Want proof? For breakfast, I ate gummy Lobsters that a co-worker brought back from Maine.

However, the extra ten (twenty? One hundred?) pounds I’ll be carrying around by the end of this will not matter so much, as long as she’s around – for tomorrow, for my wedding, for my grandkids. Fingers crossed.