Carol and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week

It's been a rough a week. I'm struggling to find the humor, couldn't find it, so Susan and I saw the free show at iO last night. A human slip and slide brought me to tears. That was great. I can't wait to get through today and go to class tomorrow.

I'm trying to stay strong for my brother who was basically just raped in court yesterday. I feel like America has an easier time pointing the finger at the "neglectful father" which angers me so much I could punch a candyless pinata! My brother is the best father I can think of. I'm not exaggerating. I honestly figured, when I first heard he would be having a child, he'd have no clue how to take care of a little girl. But he's been taking care of me, his little sis, now for almost 23 years, for my whole life. He's had a lot of practice and so I have to give him some credit. I love my brother and couldn't be more proud of the maturity he's displaying while going through this.

Another big weight on my mind is my grandfather. He's currently in the hospital with pneumonia. The doctor says while he was being fed in the nursing home, he must have aspirated some food that caused the infection. The antibiotics seem to be working now, but the bad news is he still can't feed himself properly so they're considering a feeding tube. That's great and all, but if he has the feeding tube, he won't be allowed to go back to the nursing home. My mom says she thinks this is the end. I don't want to believe it.

It's extremely tough for me to see the strongest man in my life go through this. I don't know anyone tougher, wiser, and funnier than my Poppie. I was so touched to hear that when they brought him in and put the oxygen mask on him he looked up at my grandmother and asked if he was dying. She looked down at him and said, "You're not going anywhere without me!" That's true love. I only hope when I am urinating myself and can't even bring a spoon to my mouth, the love of my life will still be by my side.

My only fear is that by the time I get to my grandparents house for Christmas, it'll be too late. I have to see my Poppie again, I miss him too much. I've decided on getting a Whip-poor-will tattoo (My mom's going to kill me if she's reading this). My grandparent's lake house in the Adirondacks was named after the bird, and I go back to that special place in my mind when I think about them.

So, needless to say, a lot of SHIT is going on. More than I even mentioned-- but a girl can only complain so much in one blog post, right?

Update: Poppie is back in the nursing home, isn't on any sort of IV fluids or feeding tube because of their policies about that. They are continuing to give him his pills and feed him but if he chokes on anything, that's it. He's DNR, do not resusitate. He's asked for that.