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I talked about it. From beginning to the end, and nothing's ever felt so good in my life. I turned to someone who I didn't think would be there for me, but she was and I love that. No matter what people say (people I don't always trust anyways) she's my friend. I consider her a good friend now because I've opened up to her. She's sweet so stop trying to make me see the bad side of her.
I started at the beginning of my Grandfather's illness. What people don't realize is that this time last year he was mowing the lawn. Then suddenly, in the period of a month he was having foot pains, his feet were turning purple...as though they were bruised, then suddenly the possibility of amputation arose. What? He's just having foot pains what the Hell do you have to amputate his leg for? The thing that hurt the most was at my birthday...he handed me a Birthday card, shaking, and called me Sherry. Ouch. That's my Mom's name...and I must've winced or something because my Grandmother corrected him the second she saw the look on my face. "It's Shannon, Marty. This is Shannon." He just kind of nodded before falling asleep a minute later. I'm not angry with him for messing up my name, don't get me wrong...just a little hurt. It was two days before my 15th birthday...I was confused. Everything in his life had changed so quickly, no one knew exactly what was going on. So the surgery had happened, his (right) leg healed. I guess it wasn't until April when they talked about how the same thing was happening to his left leg, with the toes looking bruised when they weren't. He was getting sicker and sicker and everytime I saw him I felt like it was the last time I would see him. So finally...they amputated again. It hasn't been that long...but it's not healing right. It's one of the grossest things you've ever seen WITHOUT being infected and having trouble healing.
So my Grandmother took him to the hospital to see his doctor...she agrees. It's horrible and isn't healing right. But there's a problem: They've been planning to visit family in Minnesota for the past ten months. The doctor figures that a week won't hurt him...so they can go to Minnesota, probably his last time to see the family that's there. So when they get back they're going (basically) straight to the hospital to have surgery, amputating above his (left) knee this time.
The one thing that scares me the most is the fact that this may be hereditary. Me, my brother Steven, my cousins Kris, Scott, Eric and Zack, my Dad, my Uncle Kevin and my Aunt Lisa all have the chance to get this. Why are Dad and me basically the only one taking this factor seroiusly? My Grandmother is eventually going to write a book, basically what it's like to live and cope with an amputee. She'll have what it's like in the hospital, at home, changing your home to cope with it, soon the airport accomodations, hotel accomodations...everything.
I just hope she doesn't mention me in it.
