One Foot in the Grave.
White walls,scent of medicine,clean floors and open doors. The hospital,more like a 'slaughterhouse'. This is what I came to terms with when faced with a sight that would change everything.
Her right leg.
Knee down,all of it. Gone. Emptiness grew within me as I watched them wheel my grandmother into an ivory clad tray they call a hospital bed.
She has been served up to the butchers with prestigious titles such as 'Doctors' and 'Nurses',deprived of one of life's first ever lessons learned, when we first came into this world...the ability to walk. And now she's lost it forever.
Days after seemed to drag on forever, the skies seemed to reflect my current self...Dark,cloudy but no rain. I was holding in tears that refused to come out. School became a pastime rather than a necessity,all the activities that were once fun meant nothing to me,every visit to my gran...torture. My only comfort, a screen of distractions that helped numb these emotions that I can feel are building up inside me,like a house of cards waiting to fall apart at any given moment. Seconds,minutes,hours,days,weeks...I couldn't keep track of the time anymore.
Sleep felt like an ocean,enveloping me as I slowly drowned in it,deeper and deeper I went,waking up...a challenge,every movement a struggle,every smile...fake. Looking into a mirror frightened me. I looked and felt older,isolation and silence filled my routine in school and at home.
It seemed that I was not the only one drowning. Dad was under constant pressure from my grandpa to financially support us,higher expectations for me in school,more requested aid from our uncle.
For my grandma...it must've been hell..unable to walk around freely,doing her daily chores while singing her little songs...to see her lying in bed all day...smiling only when I walk through the doors...It breaks my heart to respond every afternoon with a fake smile. "How was school dear?" "Could you get some water for me please dear?" "Can you wheel me to the toilet please dear?"
Whatever day it was,we'd rock up at the hospital where grandma would exercise and lift various weights with her arms,trying to walk by herself while holding onto side bars with the air of her nurse whose name slips my mind, it was like watching a newborn trying to walk for the first time, or in her case 'relearning'.
"We need to talk." I lifted my head in response to my step mother Rose with Dad in tow. "Ok." I muttered as I sat with them outside on the veranda,sitting across from each other in chairs,the afternoon breeze filled the air for a few seconds. "We're worried about you Sam,we've noticed how depressed you've been since your Gran had her foot amputated and we wanna help you." My chest tightened,my breathing got slower... I responded with a nod.
"We know your grandfather's been harsh on you,your uncle and dad...and we want you to come talk to me or your father whenever you're feeling down,we're here for you ok?" I nodded and for a brief moment I felt comforted,safe,loved.
But words were only that,words. They wouldn't break the chains that tighten whenever I walked into the house,or remove this tightening feeling in my chest whenever I think about it all...my gran's foot,the pressure,the expectations...too many thoughts coming into my head...Sleep was but a brief relief from my grief.
Opening my eyes felt harder today,but I was always as right as rain after a shower, even for a few moments. For a couple of minutes I sit on my bed,towel still on. Looking down at my feet as the water dripped down onto my toes, moving them,stretching them...and like a lightbulb that went off in my head,I had an epiphany
"They're MY toes,I still have two feet,why am I so miserable?... My gran may have one foot in the grave but she's still alive,not six feet under...I'd be cranky too if my wife lose her leg..."
and for the first time in forever I felt like I was Me again,Sam,the happy and goofy child that makes everyone smile or laugh with my dances and dry jokes but I now understand why we all handled it differently,and after all we've been through this year we needed to go out,even for a day.
"Dad,we all need to go for a day out,to the beach." I said with firmness that was unlike me these past several months. He seemed to have thought the same, with a wide-eyed expression, surprised at the suggestion or the fact that I said more than two words to him.
"My child speaks! What a miracle!" I playfully punched him back for that comment. With a chuckle and a toothy grin he replied "I'll talk to your grandpa and step mum about it but yeah,that would be good for us."