Thoughts of the Dead

Well, I guess this could also have been titled "Broken: Part Three", but though my main train of thought stems from the circumstances of my broken leg, it kind of moves beyond it.

Today's been the best day yet, in terms of mobility and mood. Part of it is the fact that I've actually felt somewhat useful for the first time since the accident; helping keep the music on-key and going at Mass. It's partly the fact that I went out and got some labwork done for my blood-thinner, which was easier than I expected and the weather's beautiful. It's partly the fact that the crutches and getting around are starting to become easier (trying to carry things isn't going so good... but I'm getting good at moving myself). Mainly, I guess it's just that I'm getting stronger and more used to the crutches, as well as farther and farther away from the horrors that are hospitals.

Seriously, I'm glad we have hospitals. Without them we'd be in so much worse shape. This is the third major event that I've definitely needed them for, after my birth and my initial diabetic diagnosis, as I went lethargic and sick...

But no one likes staying there.

The nurses, for the most part, are probably among the kindest people around. At least, I've generally been lucky. I don't know how they manage to go back to that smell and those emotions day after day, but I'm quite grateful they do... All the same, I don't want to. I suppose it's different when you're outside the bed. As a result of the example of the priests and friends who visited me and kept my spirits up this week, I'm definitely inspired to do the same for others in the future... but never let me be a patient again! Please, God!

Anyways... this post, as the title says, is supposed to be about "thoughts of the dead". The reason? Well, I've been thinking an awful lot about Grandpa the last few days. My mom's dad, he's the only grandparent who's passed away thus far. It's more than two years now, but occasionally I'm still caught off-guard when I realise it. I love all my grandparents, but I was particularly close to Grandpa. His passing was hard on the whole family, and it was hard on me.

Why have I been thinking about him lately? Well, I think that it comes down to the fact that I associate hospitals with him more than with anyone else. Not that my memories are of Grandpa and hospitals... no, they're memories of Grandpa and gardening, playing Buck, Bones, family visits, ice-fishing, and a thousand other things...

But he was also the person I saw most in the hospital. The first time I remember (though there were others earlier, going back to the 70s), was his heart operation when I was 6. I was just in kindergarten, and it was right after my birthday... it was the first time I ever saw someone in the hospital for anything other than childbirth (I had three siblings by then), or something like a midnight flu.

Grandpa's last few years were of constant visits to the hospital, first for chemotherapy for his prostate cancer, then his aneurysm surgery over Christmas 2002, then constant checkups and such, and finally his last four months, as they tried surgery on his leg aneurysm, which ended with an amputation, and between complications from the surgeries, possible other aneurysms, developing Type 2 diabetes, heart problems, and God knows what else... he passed away in December 2004.

According to Mom, I remind her of Grandpa when I'm in the hospital... I guess I get similarly cranky, and have similar experiences. I'm not too surprised. I've always known I was like Grandpa in some respects. Of my portrayed ancestors, he's the one I most resemble. I have his build (though more height), I have his hands, his hair, and (apparently) some of his personality. Of course, I'm not completely his clone... I've inherited a lot of interests and tendencies from my Joosten side. I sound like my Dad, have some of his personality traits, have his and Opa's intellect and several interests. But I've always identified myself most with Grandpa, not impossibly as a consequence of having a special relationship with him.

Well, last night as I was saying my prayers and kind of thinking things over, I really had the impression that Grandpa was there, keeping me company. I felt that, more so than most, he understood my post-hospital trauma, and fears regarding recovery. I felt that his amputated leg and my broken one gave us a link. And I missed him... I missed him more than I can remember more than once or twice since he passed away. And I still do.

Grandpa is the only person in my life who has passed away who I really knew and loved, who was a part of who I was. I had an uncle who died in a car accident, a great-grandmother who died when I was twelve, a friend's younger brother, and a few people in the parish back home... but losing Grandpa was like losing Mom or Dad, or a sibling. I know that with my other grandparents averaging 80 each, that I'm not too likely to have any grandparents attending my ordinations, and I'm sad, since I know that all would love to be there. Even more than Mom and Dad, my becoming a priest is dear to their hearts. I think it's partly generational, and partly the double-generation gap (one could even say triple-generation gap, since there's technically enough potential in the year for them to have been my great-grandparents, though that would've meant some pretty young marriages and whatnot).

As much as I miss him, it's a comfort to have someone in Heaven (which I'm confidant is where Grandpa ended up) who's personally interested in me. Well, Jesus is, and Mary is, but it's comforting to have a "personal" connection. I know, I know... I ought to be as close to Jesus as to any family member, and more so... but I'm still growing in my faith, though I will add that I've come to doubly appreciate the suffering of Christ's crucifixion. Admittedly, he didn't break any bones, but I can't imagine enduring the pain for that LONG. I was near mental breakdown just doing ONE painful thing, and then doing everything possible to mitigate it since.

Really... the worst is over. I am gaining more and more movement and stamina, and better and better spirits. The pain is manageable, and provided nothing stupid and horrible happens, should get less and less. Really, life is good... it's just completely uncertain.

I think that for me, the big difficulty from here on in is learning to ask for help... which is another way I'm like Grandpa. I've never been good at that...