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My mother is currently at the hospital with my grandfather. He's being tested for blockage in his arteries, which his doctor is fairly certain he has. I'll give Dr. Sandu this. He's overpriced and ornery, but he was the only doctor who treated my grandfather right during his hip replacement (with the staph infection) and he puts up with my grandmother and her hypochondria.
On top of the blockage is the fact that my grandfather has also now been diagnosed with beginning stages of congestive heart failure. This killed his mother, although she was 74 (which my grandfather is older than now) when she died. I was 8 at the time. Back then (which is weird to say, since it was in my lifetime) congestive heart failure was a death sentence. You died from it. That's it. In my grandfather's favor, beyond just the advances in medical science, is the fact that his father lived to 93, all of his siblings are still alive and kicking (hard), and his father's family history has many of them living into their 90s.
I'm not terribly worried about my grandfather this time around. I wasn't worried with the hip surgery until his idiot doctor and the staph. This time my grandfather is going to another, more reputable hospital. My mother is taking him, so that means my grandmother is starting to relinquish control (the only reason we didn't get to financially hurt the staph doctor is because grandmother wouldn't relinquish control). I think Poppaw Max will be fine, or at least not be in nearly the bad situation that he was a year ago. He was actually ready to die then.
But my sister...she's another story. She called me freaking out last night. I tried explaining that freaking until we have actually heard from the doctor is not good. It just causes undue stress. I swear, I'm a high strung drama queen, but I come by it honest. Somehow I got my mom and dad's penchant for being the calm one in an emergency situation. Dad comes from a long line of calm ones, but his mom frazzles easily. My mom's family are all high strung and overly dramatic. Hey, grandmother is a hypochondriac. That's major drama all by itself (I can't count the number of times on one hand that she's been "on death's door" because she overmedicated).
On top of the blockage is the fact that my grandfather has also now been diagnosed with beginning stages of congestive heart failure. This killed his mother, although she was 74 (which my grandfather is older than now) when she died. I was 8 at the time. Back then (which is weird to say, since it was in my lifetime) congestive heart failure was a death sentence. You died from it. That's it. In my grandfather's favor, beyond just the advances in medical science, is the fact that his father lived to 93, all of his siblings are still alive and kicking (hard), and his father's family history has many of them living into their 90s.
I'm not terribly worried about my grandfather this time around. I wasn't worried with the hip surgery until his idiot doctor and the staph. This time my grandfather is going to another, more reputable hospital. My mother is taking him, so that means my grandmother is starting to relinquish control (the only reason we didn't get to financially hurt the staph doctor is because grandmother wouldn't relinquish control). I think Poppaw Max will be fine, or at least not be in nearly the bad situation that he was a year ago. He was actually ready to die then.
But my sister...she's another story. She called me freaking out last night. I tried explaining that freaking until we have actually heard from the doctor is not good. It just causes undue stress. I swear, I'm a high strung drama queen, but I come by it honest. Somehow I got my mom and dad's penchant for being the calm one in an emergency situation. Dad comes from a long line of calm ones, but his mom frazzles easily. My mom's family are all high strung and overly dramatic. Hey, grandmother is a hypochondriac. That's major drama all by itself (I can't count the number of times on one hand that she's been "on death's door" because she overmedicated).