How do you identify the day your life changes forever? Does it arrive with bang and confetti flying in the air, or does it slide past and you only recognize in hindsight? For me, hindsight has always been 20/20.
My day began with a game of 'hide and seek' with an antique percolator in my childhood home, but seeing as my Gram's kitchen was stocked in preparation for a zombie apocalypse, I had no choice. Her coffee maker 'gave up the ghost,' her words not mine, and since she didn't drink coffee, she hadn't gotten around to buying a new one.
Gramps was the coffee drinker in the family, and I still remember thinking the stuff was vile. Now it was, as it was on that day, a necessity to remove the sleep covered fog from my brain.
"Ok, so, no coffee maker," I muttered to myself, because really, who else was here. "Oh, but she does, however, have two packages of unopened coffee and a jar of freeze-dried." I quickly placed the jar on a lower shelf in case I ever get that desperate for coffee – thinking that maybe that would come in another twenty minutes.
If I knew she would have bought freeze-dried coffee, I would have brought her some back from my last trip to England. At least that country knows how to make instant coffee that actually tastes like coffee.
I spent time stacking ancient Tupperware and consolidating her collection of Cool Whip containers in my fruitless search for the elusive percolator.
All the contents of the walk-in pantry and the canning kitchen were neatly stacked or boxed. Thankfully, the well-marked boxes rested on the floor below the lowest shelf, but it didn't make the percolator magically appear.
Frustrated that I was wasting time instead of getting ready to head back to the hospital, I slunk back to the kitchen, snagging my nightshirt on a wall hook as I did.
"And you were one of my favorites," I told my shirt with a little sigh as I examined the damage. My soft, comfy black 'Nap Ninja' shirt had a hole the size of an open hand just above my hip. Resigned, I reminisced about all the late mornings we'd had, and I had thoughts of tearing a ragged hem, and maybe cutting off the sleeves for use on hot summer nights when I stopped in my tracks.
Turning face-to-face with an intruder, scared me enough to dislodge a scream that would make an average person's ears bleed. But, since it's Becky, being a mother of four not-so-quiet children, all she asked was, "You through?" with a whimsical sneer. "I brought you some coffee. I wasn't sure if you would have been able to make any with," as she motioned to where a coffee maker would sit, "no machine."
She motioned to my attire, "That's kind of a different look. Personally, I wouldn't have gone with one with that big of a hole, but to each her own." She smiled at me, handed over the coffee. "Don't let Alyssa see that. She fancies herself a designer, and she'll have your shirt 'fashioned' before you can stop her."
She turned her head to examine the state of the kitchen. I also looked around, making sure I hid the evidence of percolator search. Thankfully, all was hidden.
"Elizabeth has spent the last few mornings at my house for breakfast. Well, mine twice, Curtis once before that, and she ate with Jack day before yesterday," she says without elaborating why Gram is making the rounds for breakfast company. "I figured you'd be heading out the door by now. Honestly, I was shocked to see your vehicle still here. I was just taking a chance that you might still be here."
She took a breath and looked at me expectedly. Seeing my chance to enter this one-woman conversation I asked her, "Oh, it's my turn?" She gave me a 'don't get smart with me' look.
She may look like she's in her mid-thirties, but since I went to her 40th birthday party two years ago. I know her looks are deceiving, and her small twitch at the corner of her mouth completely gave her away.
I laughed.
"Doctor's making rounds in an hour, and I want to be there by the time he visits. I'm only here at the house because Gram was adamant I leave to get some sleep."
"Yeah, for such a sweet woman, she can hold her own when she has a mind to it," Becky says with her sly smile.
I was descending the stairs again, hair brushed and face fresh, but this time with my keys and wallet in hand. Dressed in jeans and a cowl-necked sweater in Aegean blue that was so cuddly soft I wished it were blanket as often as I was glad it was an article of clothing, I made my way to the hospital.
Twenty minutes later I was by my Gram's bedside, and for the first time wished I'd spent more time making little memories because, in the end, that is what we remember the most.
Propped on four pillows that are helping her sit forward, Gram stared at her hospital tray as if she's contemplating the edibility of each part of the food before her.
"How are you feeling?" I asked as Gram gave me her tired, happy smile.
"I'm fine. Do you think this was made with real eggs? My guess, it's just egg whites with food coloring. Do you think that's what it is?" She asked as she poked the yellow and white goo with a fork.
"I'm not sure. What's written on the menu? Is it on the tray?"
Gram picks up a slip of paper. "Heart healthy and low sodium," were written next to her name and the date.
"Then, it's probably just egg whites."
She made a small frown and put down her fork. After a minute or so she pushed away her tray and looked up at me. "I'm glad you're here, but I know you're too busy to come."
"You said that last night." I picked up a small bottle of lotion from her bed table. "And, like I said, I'm busy, but not too busy."
"Well, still, I'm glad you're here." And, just like always, Gram changed the subject to something she loved - other people.
I squeezed a small amount of lotion and took one of her hands and began to rub.
"I like your sweater," She said all this with a voice that's smaller and weaker than I'm used to hearing, but her words were classic Gram. "My sister Sylvia always looked good in that color, just like you. It brings out her blue eyes, and you; it's your complexion; it's all pretty and pink."
Before she could continue, her doctor entered her room. I had expected her internist but was surprised by a short man with thin gray hair. He's at least in his mid-sixties with stooped shoulders and a lab coat that's too large for his frame. Nothing like Dr. Harvick, who has treated Gram for years. He was a tall, lean, impressive looking older man with a quick wit and fast smile.
Gram doesn't seem to be happy to see him, but my guess was because she's not happy to be in the hospital or that this was just Dr. Harvick's fill-in. I was wrong.
"Hello, I'm Dr. Millard," the man said. I look at his hospital ID and see 'Cardiologist' typed under his name. His eyes rise with an expectation of my name.
"Eliza Kerr," I said, just as Gram said, "My granddaughter."
With a nod of his head, he began. "How are you feeling today?"
"I fell, and I lost a little strength, I think," Gram tells him.
He took her hand and began checking reflexes, and then examined her bruise. "Have you seen this?" he asked me, knowing that grandmother couldn't see the area of his focus.
"No," I reply and move further with my Gram's permission.
"Take a picture of it for me. I can't see that far," Gram says, referring to the placement of the bruise not her lack of eyesight.
What was first thought to be a hard fall with deep tissue bruising on her hip and lower back on one side was much worse. The area was considerably larger than that, encompassing both sides down to the back of her legs and almost meeting on her abdomen?
For the next few minutes, I watched as he marked the edges of my Gram's bruise, and he explained to both of us she'd lost quite a bit blood. The pint that was administered during the night doesn't seem to be enough. He made changes to her chart, ordering more blood and explaining that he discontinued blood thinners, which was the possible cause of the bleeding.
"Replenishing her blood will give her some strength back, and she should be able to stand or even take a short walk with help," he reassured us. "But, she will need to stay at least another night."
She stayed awake for another hour after the doctor left, and she talked to me about how that man usually doesn't have a good bedside manner. This was comical since my grandmother rarely complains. Her, "they're doing the best they can," speech usually exonerates the wrongdoings of anyone's bad deeds. Not so for Dr. Millard.
"He must have been trying to make an impression on you. Thinking that I'm not all there on taking care of myself. You know he put my pacemaker in three years ago after Curtis thought I had a heart attack..."
Gram went on a mini rant, not knowing that she was divulging information she'd never shared with me. Blockage, angioplasty, arrhythmia, pacemaker -- on and on, and me without recording device or paper to remember all that she'd shared.
"Thinks he knows everything. Not a good bedside manner at all, but what can I do? It's not like that kinda doctor is easy to find 'round here."
---
There were light flurries mid-morning; I remember because I'd watched them fall as I stared out at the empty courtyard from the large cafeteria windows. For a day that began in the upper thirties, it had cooled enough to snow by lunch, and with the threatening cloud cover, it would only get worse before nightfall.
"Finally," a slightly exasperated voice said, as I moved my focus from the window. A boy, of maybe seven, slid into a chair at a table across from me. He watched in fascination as the snow fell on the outdoor tables, but this only lasted a minute.
I watched him as he unloaded a plethora of toys that looked like robot parts without the electronic gears. He sat alone, building his robots, only looking up to glance outside or at the door.
"These are Bionicle originals. They belong to my Uncle Whit. He was smart. He bought two of each kind. This is Onua. You can tell it's an original because the new one that came out in 2015 was blue and yellow, not black and silver like this one." The little boy never looked up as he talked, so I was unsure who was his audience.
"I have the new one. Well, actually, I have two. Uncle Whit gave them to me on my birthday. He wanted me to start my own collection. I didn't bring the opened one with me, because Laine didn't have time to take me to my house before she had to go to work. I had these in her car from the last time we were on a road trip."
"She gets mad for leaving my things in her car, but today I'm just thankful that I did. It would be so much more boring if I only get to watch the snow like you're doing."
He continued to work, fitting pieces together like a three-dimensional puzzle. "Are you bored just sitting there watching the snow?" He asked, and stopped building long enough to wait for my answer.
"I'm not watching the snow anymore. I've been watching you. You're very fast at that." I told him.
He nodded and continued to work all the while he talked. I couldn't help but smile at his large vocabulary and endless chatter.
Within ten minutes he began to slide his three completed puzzles into their individual canisters and pack up his belongings. Instead of leaving the room, he moved to my table and began to unpack.
"If it gets too crowded in here, I'm supposed to go sit with Laine. That way the doctors and nurses can have a place to eat lunch. But, she's busy right now; she hasn't looked over here once." He pointed over to the cashier nearest to the door.
"Who is Laine?" I asked just to keep that little boy talking.
"She's my sister. She's eighteen and thinks she so big because she's in college. She's not. She still lives at home. So, how can she be that big?"
The bustle of the lunch crowd raised the volume of the room significantly. Every once in a while conversations crept over to our table, but the little boy never skipped a beat or took a breath. He rattled on about his sister, his toys and his friends from school.
"Walker, who's your friend?" a low, soothing voice asked, and I looked around to find a tall man hidden behind a russet colored beard. He still had on a knit hat, probably in hopes of taming hat looks to be very wavy or even curly hair. He nodded his head toward me but waited for whom I now know is Walker to reply.
"I don't know. She's just somebody that was watching me build Bionicles, so I moved closer so she could learn."
"That's very kind of you. I'm glad she appreciates it." his tone was light with humor, and it made me smile.
"You always tell me to share my knowledge. I found someone that didn't know anything about Bionicles, so I had to share."
He reached over the table with an outstretched hand, and I immediately stood in a greeting. "Gentry," he said then added, "Allen."
The greeting was odd, but I reciprocated, "Kerr," which made him smile, then added, "Eliza."
"It's nice to meet you," he said with a nod and turned to Walker. "You have and appointment. We better hustle before the weather gets any worse."
"Yes, sir." Walker packed up his toys and turned to leave. With a nudge from the man, Walker spun around. "It was very nice to meet you. I hope someone else comes over to sit with you, so you're not just watching it snow."
"Thank you. It's nice to meet you, too. And, don't worry about me sitting here any longer, I'm leaving now."
"Be careful in this weather. It's becoming a bit of a mess out there."
"Thank you."
---
Checking on my grandmother didn't go very well because she was too anxious about the incoming storm. "You need to go on home. I'm fine here. The nurses will take care of me. Curtis will worry if he thinks your out in this weather."
"Gram it's just snow."
"Yes, I know, but Parker's Bend will still be difficult to pass. You know, they went and started to repave that area and still haven't painted the lines back on the road. Have you ever heard of that? Fixing a road and now fixing the paint?"
"It doesn't matter. I keep talking; you keep staying. Go home. Curl up in the blankets and enjoy the weather from the comfort of home."
Home. How wonderful to think of Gram's house as home.
"Now go. I have the phone and this thing." She held up a flip phone. "I expect you to call as soon as your home."
"Yes, ma'am." With a cheek kiss, I left her to recover.
---
Parker's Bend was a hazard, just like Gram predicted. Five miles from Gram's house, I slowed to 10 miles an hour do to the icy conditions. Warm roads, cold front, and snow make slush - slush freezes and roads become hazardous.
Knowing my driving skills and my sedan would not be finishing this trip; I pulled over to an abandoned parking lot and found my phone. "Curtis?"
"Let me guess? Parker's Bend?"
"How did you know?"
"Girl, it's always the first place to freeze and the last to thaw. North side of the hill and too many trees, not a great combination." He told me.
But, it's a beautiful place to drive in spring and autumn. I thought.
"I'm too far away to help right now, and you don't need to be waiting for me to get there. I'll give Jack a call. He's closer and has more hands at his place. He'll help, or find someone that can."
Twenty minutes later with a tap on my window a russet beard smiled at me.