Of family and taking them for granted

My grandfather was clinically dead for 5-10 minutes on Friday night. The final determination was his heart slowly stopped beating. Once they got him on the floor, he came to. Then refused to go to the hospital until my dad (almost literally) slapped some sense into him. My mom called while Boy & I were out at dinner as they were in transit to the hospital. I’ve heard about my grandparents’ issues after the fact, never while they’re unfolding. She sounded really upset. In turn, that upset me. Originally, I wasn’t planning on going with them to my grandparents’ house for Thanksgiving. I was going to hang around the house, read, knit, and watch football. After that incident, I decided to go with them. I know I’d feel like an ass if he dropped dead and hadn’t seen me in 4 years. He’s a misogynistic, racist, homophobic pain the ass. Most of that is probably just being a product of his generation. He was born in 1929 when all that stuff was standard beliefs. He’s rarely has a kind word to say to my sister or me, especially me. The tattoos have always been a bone of contention. I know it means a lot to my mom that I at least make an appearance. She was originally trying to talk me into going for the family Christmas party the weekend before Christmas. My sister lives in Minnesota and has sworn she’ll never come back for a holiday. My cousin, the only other grandchild on that side of the family, lives in Florida and has 3 small children. That leaves me as the sole representative for my generation. Just like my mom is the sole representative of hers. She has a sister, but last I heard she was living in a trailer in Kansas with a meth problem the size of a small country. Needless to say, I’m not thrilled with the idea of going. In the long run, it’s easier to suck it up for 48 hours than come up with excuses to not go. I’ll probably spend those 2 days holed up in one of the bedrooms with Hulu, a book, and my knitting, emerging only to eat and bathe.

The incident on Friday did make me consider the mortality of my grandparents. I’m pushing 30 and still have all 4 of them. Most of my friends have one, maybe 2 at the most still alive. They’re all in their 80s with problems of various degrees. Both grandfathers have had open heart surgery. My paternal grandmother has a brain tumor and has already beaten lung cancer once. My maternal grandmother is mostly bionic at this point. Whichever of my mom’s parents goes first, we’ll get stuck with the other one. They may all live another decade. One of them may drop dead tomorrow. Either way, when the inevitable happens, I’ll be upset because my parents are upset, not because I’m close to any of the grandparents. It makes me sound like a horrible person, but it’s true. The whole point of this blog is be authentic, good, bad, or indifferent.

On a less serious note, a little over 18 working hours until 4 days off. Is it Wednesday yet?