amelia's plum

I feel like I should apologize for my blog turning into 'days of our scarves' because even i'm getting tired of seeing my neck and mouth, if only my cats would model these for me. The reddish stripy one is missoni mohair fabric that I bought in NYC at least fifteen years ago, I'm telling you I knew I'd knit one of these days just didn't know when. The heather grey one is another moss stitch, which I'm addicted to, I want to make a moss stitch hate but I don't know how to make a hat yet. My Grandmother has a cold and, for once, she's not being put on antibiotics so she is sounding horrible. There doesn't seem to be enough air in her lungs to even expel the congestion. But the care managers and hopsice nurses all remark on what a trooper she is and how she's so strong and it's miraculous the way she rallies and I'm not buying it anymore. She has been on this health roller coaster for over a year now and her mind has diminshed even more. It's a fucking tragedy! She is lacking the higher cognitive functioning to be able to make a decision and let go, how is that something to be praised? I think that people who are still mentally sound can make a decision, to some extent, in their death, in terms of knowing it's time; turning away from food and drink, unnecessary procedures. But where she is now they bring her to be fed, slip ensure drinks in her if she misses a meal and she spends the rest of her day asleep in bed; her color is remarkable, she still has a pink blush to her cheeks even if her skin is so thin it flakes off quite a bit. I never realized just how angry and sad I could feel simultaneously. Years ago I saw a bird suffering and picked it up from the train tracks then brought it to the grass and killed it with a stone (and this story wooed my husband, maybe that shows things were just destined to go south in our relationship, I don't know). I feel like I was more charitable to the bird than my Grandma right now, it's horrible to see her like this and I feel so incredibly helpless. I keep praying that she'll die before this week is over (that prayer wasn't answered) or before my birthday (which is wednesday) at the absolute very latest that she'll die before I start nursing school because then it will become much harder for me to go see her. It does make me feel evil in a way to wish someone I love would die, it's definitely selfish and terribly judgemental but it's also unbearable to see a vestige of my Grandmother linger so.