I got the call last night. My grandmother has been in the hospital for a couple days, nothing we haven't seen before, she's been in off and on for six or seven years now. But this time, for some reason, it felt different. And the call came in. The urologist is waiting for confirmation, but he's 99% sure that it's bladder cancer. Combine that with the pneumonia that took her in in the first place, and it looks pretty rough. I've finally wrapped my mind around the fact that it is that bad, but I can't resign myself to let go yet. In all my 28 years, I've known that the old bat survives on pure meanness. I can't fathom that that quality in her has possibly run out. Thank god we live in the future, where I can get there in a couple hours when that call comes in.
For now, I'm raising a glass to continued meanness.