So at the request of the many, the date was changed to Sunday the 15. So that made today kindof a free day. Right? Biggest misconception I'd made yet on this transition.
I got up this morning and had gotten straight to work— typing up The Beginning of The End. I had nothing planned ALL DAY LONG. I'd been typing since about 7:30 and it was nine. It was time for a break. Wandering lazily down the hallway, I became accutely aware that something wasn't quite right. I could hear my grandma calling, " Irene? Irene?" I was also aware of my dad running, and trying to get his shoes on rather quickly. Grandma Kuball, was an old friend of the family. She was one of those people that was always happy, and would always find something to laugh about even in less than pleasant circumstances. But this didn't sound right. There was something wrong.
I ran back to my room and got out of my pajamas and into my clothes from yesterday which were set in similar fashion to the way in which a fireman's suit usually is, thank goodness for that. As I stripped my pajama shirt, thoughts raced through my mind. I raised my shirt to get into it, I stopped. I brought my hands down so as to better see them. They were shaking, I also became aware of a lump in my throat. I took a deep breath, another, and another. Now was not the time for emotion. I pushed it all out of my mind, and swallowed the lump. After I got my belt buckled, I ran and put my shoes on as fast as it was possible. I darted out the door after my dad and aunt Diane who had already been gone for a few minutes.
I ran, following my dad's foot prints, frankly because I couldn't find aunt Diane's. I didn't have time to take in the snow that was splashings into my shoes, nor the bitter cold wind that tore (it was really windy earlier) at my face. Because, I wasn't even out side for a minute before busting through the door into the house. The first thing I saw, was my dad and aunt Diane just standing in the kitchen. I wasn't quite sure what to make of that. By the looks that they gave me I would imagine that I looked pretty worked up. I peeked around the refrigerator, which blocked most of the rest of the room from where I was standing. I didn't see anything on the floor on first glance. I was about to ask where grandma Kuball was when I took a second glance and saw that she was sitting at her table. What the... What!?! I was confused.
She greeted me, and I her. We talked a bit about the fact that I was back, and what that meant for the future and stuff like that; and the weirdest part of all this was that she seemed fine. Aunt Diane, who had been kindof walking around, but not really pacing looked out the window and saw the ambulance and then promptly, but not hurriedly notified us of its arrival. Two paramedics came in, a rather large (in height) woman, and an avarage sized man. The woman never said much of anything, and the man had one of those voices that kindof trails the last sound of any word or sentence much longer than he should, or than is helpful.
"So, what happened here sweetie?" He said, addressing gramma Kuball. I had never herd anyone speek to any woman over 50, referring to them as "sweetie" I was a bit taken aback by his mannerisms, shall we say. Grandma Kuball told him of how she had felt a weight on her chest and then took something for it, and how (according to the protocol of the substance in question) she'd taken a secon dose 5 minutes later. Then as a last resort, she had tried to call my grandmother; but that was all she remembered before waking up and finding herself on the ground and my dad and aunt Diane at the door.
After hearing this he questioned her about her medical history, which I have redacted, with the same annoying vocal mannerisms. It might not need to be said, but I was relieved when the irksome paramedic loudly announced that he and his companion were going to retrieve the stretcher. Good, that means you're leaving! That gave us a few minutes to hear properly pronounce interogative clauses and sentences, and also for aunt Diane to help grandma Kuball get changed to go to the hospital. I'm not sure if she wanted to go or not, but I did know one thing: if she was going to the hospital; she was going in style.
While the paramedics were strapping grandma Kuball down on the stretcher, I looked over the verious photos that were displayed on the walls of her house and I found it kind of odd, the fact that there were no pictures of grandma Kuball wherein she wasn't at least 50. Oh well, she likes to be up to date on these sorts of things I guess. The paramedics left, and dad and I locked up the house. But as we were leaving the place, something in my spirit fealt troubled, and I hoped and prayed that this would not be the end of grandma Kuball. I have seen enough death in this life already, and the fact of the matter is that I would like to go a little while longer before someone I know dies again.
One thing that I'd managed to miss however, was that the paramedics had taken aunt Diane with them to the hospital. It mattered how little or much sense the fact made, we were going to have to go and get her. Honestly, I was looking forward to going to pick her up; I hadn't been to the emergency room since I busted my foot with an axe last year. The way there was a short one (as usual), but then; how long can you make a five mile cartrip? We arrived somewhere between 10-15 after we left.
The Christmas spirit was definitely in the air, or at least that's what I think those fluffy white cotton-bally things were. All around the colored lights shown and I took note of an enormous light star atop the old smoke stack at the hospital as we drove around it to the emergency enterence. The hospital staff, I noted on entry were dressed festively in all-black coveralls and upside down grins decorated every face. The sharp contrast between the festivities outside, and those inside, was almost enough to make me light headed. Across the room from the enterence we walked toward people that my dad and grandma seemed to recognize, who were also sitting with aunt Diane.
Mrs. and Mr. Kuball greeted us warmly and we sat and talked for a while. The conversation went the usual way and included, but was not limited to things like; how I liked the weather, if I liked being back, "Wow you're so tall!", and a lot of stuff related to Africa.
Before we'd left the house to go to the hospital, I had posted an urgent prayer request in the family forum and so I decided to update that with new information that I had picked up about grandma Kuball's case, notifying them that all was for the time being well. I had just finished typing that up and posting it when my cousin, Kim, messaged me; thanking me for a birthday card I'd sent her. My location services must have been activated because before I had a chance to write "You're welcome.", she had already asked,
"Why are you in St. Joseph?"
"Because I live here?"
"Oh I thought you were in Africa."
"I was, but I'm staying with grandma now." With typing that came yet another reminder of what I'd left behind.
"Oh ok cool"
I sat quietly for the rest of the time that we spent at the hospital. But on the drive home, after we'd arrived, and far into the evening, one thought continuously passed through my head. Imagine what would have happened if you'd gone to the reunion to day. And over the days since then, I've come to accept that it was no accident that the family opted to reschedule. It was by design.
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