A visit with grandma

I love my Grandma. She is one of the most interesting people I have ever met and will ever meet. She has one of the most expressive personalities with a no holds bar attitude, and yet a truly sensitive nature. She has been a nurse and stage performer. Her personality is larger than life. She is truly amazing.

Here is a story about her and I that happened recently.

Lately I have been spending a lot more time with my grandma because she is sick and needs some help around the house. I go over pick up her medicine from the drugstore, buy her cigarette and straighten up the house. Stuff like that.

Well the other day I was at work when I received a call from my mother.
"Julie, I need you to go to grandmas and help her find her medicine. She is in pain and can't find it."

My work isn't far from my grandmother’s house so it wouldn’t take long. So I tell my coworkers that I must leave for a family emergency and get in my car and go. On the way there I realize I forgot my keys to my grandmother’s house. "Oh shit" This is not a good thing. My grandmother isn't one to let a thing like this slide. In her defense she did ask me to put them on my key ring last time I was over. My nerves set in I'm scared.
I call mommy.

I stand at my grandmother’s door hesitant to ring the door bell.
Julia: "Mommy, I forgot my keys to grandma's house. And I know she is going to yell at me."
Mom: "Julie, don't be silly just ring the doorbell."
Julia: "But I know she is going to yell at me"
Mom: "Ok if she yells at you I will handle it"

I ring the door bell... and wait... and wait...

A ruckus slowly approaches the door. At its loudest the door opens. (Remind you I still have my mother on the other end of the cell phone to defend me in case of attack.)

Grandma: "WHAT! You didn't bring your god dam keys." The chaos ensues. Cats and dog clamor in excitement around the door happy to see a new face. "Oh for crying out loud, I had to get the fuck up out of bed and walk all the way to the front door. Why didn’t you bring your keys?"

“Tell her to calm down.” Mom says through the other end of the cell phone.
“You tell her to calm down she is pissed at me enough already” I say in reply.

Grandma yells to me "Don't let the cats out for Christ sake. The other day I had to run down the street half naked trying to catch that one there" She points to a white colored flat faced cat that is struggling to breath do to its bread for cuteness deformities. “Luckily some young girl helped me catch that little bastard in the end."

My imagination starts going. All I can see is my grandma run out in the street with just a towel on screaming at this young art student with funny colored hair wearing some tunic garb. (It probably wasn’t even a girl). While grandma screams "Help me get that fucking cat!"

I bring my self back to reality and talk into my cell phone "Mom, I'm going to get off the phone with you so can get this done."

Pushing my way through the door with pats and petting to get through the animals and into the house." O.k., Grandma I'm sorry. So where did you drop your pills." I say ready now to take on the task of searching for the missing pills.

“Next to the bed, Sweet heart." Oh god, I'm in so much pain” she replies.

I feel so bad for her. The shingles that cover her shoulder look incredible painful. But I know my grandmother and she is tuff and can handle more pain than most men triple her size. She may be small but she is one tuff cookie.

So I enter her tiny room where she has a small bed and a big flat screen T.V. my Mother got her for her birthday last year. This is where she likes to spend most of her time. The room is cluttered with notes to herself, articles of events past and photos of her beautiful family. (That includes me of course)

I search around the room looking by the fish tank, near the T.V., under the dresser and chair. No luck. So I kneel next to the bed to see if the pill bottle was kicked under. It’s dark and hard to see but it looks like one of the cats is under there. I call to my grandmother to get me a flashlight in order to get a better look. She brings me the flash light and I turn it on to examine further.

“Grandma there is a cat under your bed.” I call out.
“Oh yeah he likes it under there. That one always hides. He doesn’t come out much.” she replies.
“I think it might be dead” I say hesitantly.
Irritated that I would even say such a thing she replies “No it’s not”
“Could you get me a stick or something so I can poke it?” I say not trying to upset her.

She leaves the room and returns with a broom.

I grab the broom and maneuver it around the chairs, fish tank, and other pieces cluttering the tiny room, so I can get it under the bed and to “poke around” as it where. I poke the light colored lump of fur, nothing. The cat lies still. My worst thoughts were true. It’s dead.

I yell out to grandma “Yeah it’s definitely dead”
Grandma replies in denial “No it’s not”
“I’m sorry grandma” I say.
“I hope it’s not the one I like” she says seeming slightly annoyed.

I get on the phone to my mother. And explain the situation.
“I can’t go under there and get it.” I tell her.
“Well neither can I. I’ll call your father.” she says and gets off the phone to call for reinforcements.

This was a Friday and every Friday my father has a breakfast meeting with the accountant in his office. So he can be difficult to reach.

I try to make my grandma comfortable while we wait for my father to get out of his breakfast meeting and arrive to handle the situation.

“This is the worst fucking pain I’ve felt in my life.” grandma announces.
“Grandma, go sit down and relax until Graham gets here” I say trying to ease her.

I lead her over to the bed, (the dead cat still underneath) and help her sit down.

We wait with the T.V. blaring at full volume. I decide to call my dad, Graham, and find out what’s taking so long.

“Graham, where are you. Are you going to come and get this cat?” I say slightly annoyed that I’m still at grandma's instead of being back at work.
“I’m at the shop I needed to get a bag and shovel. How long do you think it’s been there?” He replies.
“I don’t know. How would I know? I will see you soon” I say and get off the phone.

Grandma and I go back to waiting. The doorbell rings finally and once again the chaos ensues. The dog barks and the rest of the living cats go to the door to greet my father. I quickly walk to the front of the house to open the front door.
My dad walks in with a huge shovel and one of those black construction trash bags.

“So how long do you think it’s been there?” He says with a slight smirk on his face.
“I don’t know.” I now say a little aggravated having to keep answering the same question.
“Does it smell.” he replies.
“No, not really.” I say recalling if I could smell anything over the abundance of cigarette smoke.
“Well, I’m gong to need your help. You're going to have to hold the bed up while I shovel it into the bag." He says.
“Really!” I replay not expecting to be involved with the disposal.

We enter the room where grandma sits on the bed that the dead cat lays under.
“Joan, you’re going to have to go sit in the living room while we do this." my dad says while motioning to me to get to work.

Grandma leaves and we get to the act of disposal. I lift the bed to reveal the cat lying limp and lifeless. As my dad takes the shovel and tries to scoop it up into the bag.

While trying to maneuver the carcass onto the shovel my dad announces: “Well it doesn’t smell. So it probably hasn’t been their long.” He seemed relived about his concerns of how long it had been there.

I say nothing trying to hold my breath and the bed up at the same time.

“Ok” he says as he closes the bag.
Grandma, yelling from the other room. “I want to see its face to know if it’s the one I liked.”

My dad throws the cat filled bag into the back of my pick up truck and I go back to work. Like most things that are put in the back of my pick-up it sits there for awhile. Until I ask my dad to remove it.

The next day or so my mother talks to my grandmother on the phone. The conversation went something like this:

My Mom: “Hi, Mommy, sorry about your cat. Wasn’t it the one with the brother?”
Grandma: “Yeah, I had both siblings”
My Mom: “Do you think the other sibling cat is morning the loss of the one that died?”
Grandma: “How the fuck would I know? Do I look like a fucking cat?”