Nurse.
Uber Driver. Chef.
Chef.
Grasshopper Operator.
Those are just a few of the titles my grandpa has given me this past week.
Two weeks ago he had open heart surgery to replace his aortic valve.
Since he’s living alone on Fall River Lake, which is 30 miles from the nearest hospital, I decided to move up to Kansas for a few weeks to help him with his recovery, once he got out of the hospital.
I didn’t know what to expect and was a little nervous.
Grandpa Bob is very stubborn and very old school.
It’s nice having doctors orders to back me up, but sometimes that isn’t enough.
One of the rules is that Grandpa can’t carry anything over 10 pounds.
Well I was carrying in the milk and Pepsi after our trip to the grocery store, well Grandpa got mad that I didn’t let him carry anything in.
Another rule is that he isn’t allowed to push or pull anything.
Well I was working on getting his recliner in the house and he insisted on pushing the chair while I pulled and directed it.
It’s hard, and a little scary, to tell a 300 pound 6’5 man “no.”
I can handle his sarcastic comments about the rips in my jeans, I can handle his instructions on how to drive the mower, I can handle his back seat driving.
I can’t handle the thought of losing him.
I understand that nothing can prevent death, but the heart gets tired of aching.
After losing my mother, father, uncle and grandparents, death can knock on someone else’s door for a while.
Thankfully, the cardiologist found his heart murmur, which led to finding his leaky valve.
Although the thought of open heart surgery is scary, the thought of losing the one of the last major family members in my family is even scarier.
This past week has been filled by playing dominoes, taking the dog outside and catching up with a man who has always been the backbone of our family... And will continue to be.