The good news is that everyone has been so kind and gentle about my new look. Mostly I’m hearing that the real me was buried under my “other” hair, because I am rocking the hell out of this new cut. Meh, I have to say I agree!!
The only person who responded differently was my 90 year old Granny. She came to dinner with us at a Japanese restaurant Friday night. She didn’t notice my hair at first, but when Mommy asked her if she liked it, she looked at me, fell backwards in her seat, grabbed the sides of her face (Home Alone-style) and belly laughed. She told my mom she asked the wrong question because now she has to tell the truth. “No! I don’t like it. I don’t like her hair…her NO-HAIR at all. I can’t say hair because she has no hair.” She laughed so hard she cried and she took pop shots at me ALL NIGHT LONG!! She was the life of the party that lasted until they turned the lights off on us. We all laughed so hard at her, like, who knew Granny was such a comedienne. It was good times.
Bad news: Granny had a massive stroke Monday. She is breathing on her own, but was still heavily sedated when I saw her last night. When I first got to the hospital Monday morning, she knew everyone by voice (she can’t open her eyes), and when I walked in, she asked for lots of hugs and said, “Lexi, why did you cut your hair?!?!” and “Do you think it was the Japanese food? (that made her sick)”. She knew all of her grandkids (we are 10 + 2 greatgrands) by our voices. She rocks like that. She was talking non-stop until they sedated her because she punched the tech who tried to get her into the MRI (because she rocks like that). Well, it seems like (from EKGs) she had a heart attack too. She’s 90.
The first night was rough. I stayed up with her at the hospital all night. She didn’t react well to the sedation. She was restless (read: fighting me and trying to climb out of the bed all night) despite, “enough meds to take down a small elephant”. She did sleep after I left at 5:30am, and for the rest of the day. Last night she was making sense again, knew who we were and was making fun of my hair again. The lady in the bed across from her was screaming for a soda. Granny was sleep (we thought). About 5 minutes after the lady stopped screaming, Granny yells, “Give her a soda! She can have mine!” Granny had no soda, but still. You get an idea for her personality.
I was scared at first because I don’t want to see her suffer and not be her independent spunky self. I’ve been prepared for her to go for a long time though — um, she’s 90! My dad is the HR director of an independent/assisted living community — a really nice one. Hopefully, if she pulls through, she can go there so he can check on her throughout the day.
My cousin is a resident on staff at the hospital where she is now. So, we have round the clock access to how she’s doing. All of us have been there with her this week. Her nurses don’t really have to do that much with Dr. D and the rest changing her and making sure she’s comfortable. She’s weak on her left side, but has movement and we’re trying to encourage her to use both hands to do stuff. She can certainly kick both feet out of the bed, where she insists they be — to the nurses’ chagrin.
So, bad news is not the worst news. Here’s my Granny. I love her!