Wednesday morning my mean-as-spit granny was giving me a fit about finding a man who wasn’t so pretty. According to her my very special friend will never serve me well. He is far “too pretty”. She said I needed to find me an ugly man who would always take good care of me.
She had an exceptional day. Out early to a doctor’s appointment, on to the store with a mile-long shopping list, lunch at one of her favorite haunts and then an afternoon of fussing and bossing those of us who love her best.
When I tucked her into bed that night she was quite pleased with having beaten me at poker, leaving my wallet some $20 lighter. She was sufficiently tired and ready for a good night’s rest.
Fast forward some sixteen hours to Thursday afternoon and we were sitting in a hospital emergency room being told my poor granny had pneumonia and was in the initial stages of congestive heart failure. Only hours later they said she suffered a very mild heart attack.
Here it is now, Saturday morning, and I am sitting here perplexed by the team of intensivists and assorted medical specialists who are debating the best course of action to rejuvenate her depleting oxygen levels.
I cannot fathom how she was well and good one day without a sniffle or a cough and now she’s fighting for whatever life might be left for her.
Tell every soul who has a piece of your heart that you love them. Do it right now. Sixteen hours from now they might not be able to hear you.