At the hospital

It’s hard seeing my grandpa like this. The invincible giant I remember from my childhood has been gone a while, but this is the first time I’ve seen him looking not just old and frail, but scared. The skin hangs from his once powerful arms. Over the last few years, dark patches have slowly spread from the back of his hands, up his forearms, and now they’re crawling around his elbows, heading in the direction of his shoulders. It looks like someone beat him with a hammer. His hands shake uncontrollably, sometimes so severely that he can’t hold a fork, much less navigate it into his mouth. He piles blankets on his legs and feet to compensate for poor circulation. The expression on his face oscillates between placid detachment, forced concentration, and panicked confusion. His eyes betray the intensity of his fear.

[This and the next several posts are backdated to reflect the time each was written. No internet access in the hospital, so I jotted down some thoughts while Grandpa slept.]


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