My Papa

Grandparents are the best. They are the ones that give you a treat, even if you just misbehaved. They will walk to the end of the earth for you, give you a penny even if it's their last. You are their universe.

One night last April my family were all headed to bed, but my dad got a call from my grandmother. I knew it wasn't good because she never calls at 9 at night. She called to say that papa fell and hit his head. The ambulance was on it's way to get him and that my dad needed to call his two sisters to tell them because she was going to drive her van to the hospital. Freaking out, he did that while I called my cousin, and told her that we needed to go to the hospital. She lives right down to road so he came over and we raced up to the hospital. We got there so fast that we saw him getting off the ambulance on a stretcher. That was really upsetting.

My papa has COPD, he has blood clots in his lungs, diabetes, and had a heart attack.

When he was in the kitchen that night he was putting his medicine in his little weekly container thing. He lost his balance while he was doing that and fell to the ground. He is a 67 year old, 285 pound, 6'4" man. When he falls, he is bound to fall hard. Well when he did, his head broke his fall and caused bleeding in his brain. This classifies as a stroke. 

On top of all of this, he had been an "alcoholic" for 25 years. Not like an incoherent alcoholic, he just had a drink or two every day, and when you do that your body gets used to it. When your body doesn't get that drink or two every day, it misses it and then has withdrawls. 

Knowing he might have withdrawls, the hospital put him on Fenobarbotol, which is an anti-seizure medicine. The Fenobarbotol could make his blood thicken, giving him blood clots, so they put him on Cumidin, a blood thinner. BUT, with the brain bleed, the blood thinner could make it worse. So he was watched very closely. He was in the hospital for two weeks. They told us that if he did have a seizure from the withdrawls, he wouldn't make it. 

Wait, you mean to tell me that my Papa, my superhero, the man who couldn't get hurt and wouldn't ever die in my lifetime, could DIE? He could be ripped from my hands and I'd have to say goodbye? Oh, okay... Well..



I did a lot of screaming and crying, threw a lot of fists at absolutely nothing, ignored the hugs from my boyfriend who was only there to support me. I felt alone in this huge world, full of people that were going through the same thing right there with me. It's amazing what pain can do to you. 

A year later now, he is around 240 pounds, and hasn't had a sip of alcohol since the day he fell a year ago. He has a cane, and he cruises around on that cane. He now climbs the 13 stairs at my house to come see us, which he was incapable of doing. And on top of that all, he is the happiest I have ever seen him. 

Knowing all of this, and looking back at it, I don't know where I would be without him. He has taught me some silly things and some serious things. That's my grandfather, and he is my hero. The day I lose him from my life, will be a day to remember and regret. I love you papa, with everything.