Hola Carnales

I think ive heard my grandpa speak off...well basically saying "Fuck it All" at least 3 time already. He said something the other day...well let me back up a bit.

He was taking back into the hospital over the weekend. Seems that he has a small fracture on his lower back. Signs of osteoporosis. I didn't want to go to the hospital this time. So Id stayed home. In the morning i was talking with my mom. "Do you know know what your grandfather said?" "No mom..." I fucking hate rhetorical questions. "He said it be better off if he (my grandpa) jumped off the roof like Uncle Eddie..." I guess i had a uncle that killed himself. Like i said, this isn't the first time he brought this up. I know he's serious. Before he went into surgery, he said he didn't want to be saved..."Just let me Die." I guess we all have been around enough depressed people to see and know the signs. The family's response to "grandpa's funny joke" was just that...they laughed. I guess that all you can do. What do you tell an old man? "Hey...you're suffering from depression." This doesn't mean anything to an old man. Something like this can beat the shit out of you...you're never the same.


I'd called my grandpa when i was in the hospital. I remember the last thing he told me was: "Dont get get depressed over there." I didn't have the heart to tell i was doing it with a hot Navy nurse. It wasn't depression, it was more frustration. I was out on my own, dealing with what to do next. I didn't know what to do after surgery...no one knew. I had this case worker who sent me around to different places, asking questions, getting answers...to what!? It was frustrating to hell. Not knowing if i was going to be discharged or not, if i did what about health care, what was i going to do? That ran through my head...nights in Great Lakes turned from blistering heat to cool Fall nights, to snow, to winter. All the while thinking, what was i going to do. This one day, it had snowed all night. Nothing heavy, just enough to make the shithole I was in...it make it look like a dream, like everything was ok. I sat at the desk, filling out paper work. I just stared out the window, looking at sleeping tree draped in snow. What was i going to do.

I can relate to my grandfather's frustration...what i am i going do.

Greetings...

I was asked a question the other day. My aunt asked how long it took me to recover from my surgery. My grandpa is having bypass surgery this week, and seeing that he'll have his chest cracked, my aunt thought to ask. The age difference alone i told her...I said that from time to time, when i cough it hurts. Sometimes my chest will crack like a knuckle.

Its still something i have to come to terms with. Its not something that i can hide, or something that i dont have to see. Its something i have to explain every time i lay down with a girl, or i have my shirt off. Its not that im shy about it...i talk about my surgery when asked. It was...something that i dont think about that much anymore. I dont know why this is bugging me so much...if bugging is the right word to use. It been on my mind since the other day.

Each time someone or something forces me to think about cancer...im not sure it gets easier...it gets harder. The more i want to let it go, more its there. I know the irony in that...

George asked me why i stop writing...im not sure i gave him a straight answer, but a tangent about corporate greed or some other life rambling. There is no good answer why. I guess the easiest...ive had some sort of writers block going on for a long time. I have some bright spots of creativity, but mostly i draw a blank. More along the truth, i often dont want to talk about...

Seems ive been working on this blog for months. The good news, the surgery went well. Though, there was a point that...my grandpa could die on that table. What was i going to say at the funeral. Someone shouldn't be thinking that...but it was sobering. I started to scribble something down. When he came out ok, I knew one day i'll have to dig up that napkin. It was hard to go to the hospital. I knew the pain he was feeling, with all the tubes, the background noise from the machines that seems be drowned out the deafen silence of the hospital. When i sat with for awhile, the oxygen tube in his noise...i looked. He started to clean his noise. I said "its a pain in the ass huh? I could never breath with that damn thing..." He laughed and agreed. He look disheveled...sort of the way i did. Though i had short hair and a watch cap on after. It such a helpless feeling to put your hands into someone you dont know, dont trust, but you have to trust them to the most basic of stuff...help you up, clean your ass if need be, change you...its...well you can image. Its strange, thought not directly, ive relived my ordeal though him. Probrobly why ive stayed away from the hospital...I think he knows why.


The good news, as of this afternoon, he was doing well. Though no news on when he'll be coming home. I've sent my suit to be clean. I started to polish my shoes...much like my grandpa taught me as a kid. Ive tucked that napkin away...just in case you know.


Cheers