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I mentioned a few weeks ago that my grandmother was staying with my parents in Hampden this spring.  She went home to Canton three weeks ago.  Everything was fine, and then she could not move yesterday.  So my mother, her twin brother, her older brother and I spent yesterday at the hospital.  We were there pretty much the whole day.  They X-rayed my grandmother’s hip; couldn’t see anything.  We sat around for an hour and half waiting for someone to get her and take her to get a CAT scan.  Finally, the nurse got fed up and took her down herself.  Nothing was broken.  All day in the hospital for them to tell her to take Tylenol.

But what’s very weird to me is seeing her re-arranged rowhouse.  While the couch, chairs and TV set have been replaced a few times, the arrangement of the furniture in my grandmother’s house has remained unchanged since I was born.  Seriously.  Even before my parents were married, according to photos I’ve seen.  Now, the dining room table is gone, and there’s a bed there.  Large wooden things have been moved around, and the plasma TV my least favorite uncle bought has been ignored in favor of a smaller TV closer to the bed.  It looks like a different house, and it signals something sinister to me.

That my grandmother is on her way out, not a pleasant thought.  Nor what that means for my mother, her brothers, the ton of grandkids and greatgrandkids.  Not a pleasant thought at all.  I don’t really know what/how I think or feel about the downwardly-sliding situation.  I am really trying not to do either of them.

I do know that it’s frustration to be able to do nothing.