My grandfather is scheduled for two heart surgeries this week. The risk is high, and there’s a high probability that he could pass away in surgery. His heart is weak enough that he will die quickly without the surgery, so the procedure really is a roll of the dice.
Minime and I went to see him today. I brought him Swiss Cake Rolls. When I was little, I would raid his Little Debbie stash for Swiss Cake Rolls after school, so I figure I probably owe him a few hundred snack cakes.
He’s not my biological grandfather, but he never treated me any differently than any of the other grandkids (unlike his now deceased spouse who went out of her way when I was a kid to make me feel like shit). He would bring me wallpaper sample books when they replaced them with new ones at the hardware store so I can enjoy crafty awesomeness. He made me yummy homemade biscuits and gravy on Sunday mornings that were memorable enough that I named a cat “Biscuits N Gravy” when her fur reminded me of the colors of childhood Sunday breakfast. He encouraged me to read and he always had a stack of books he was working through by his bed.
I hope he pulls through these surgeries, but he does not seem afraid so I will not be afraid, either. He has lived an exciting life, growing up in a house with no electricity or running water, making moonshine, racing cars, marrying, having kids, having grandkids, finding a second chance at love after his wife passed away and enjoying his great grandchildren. He had his first heart attack when I was in high school and has proven quite the survivor.
Think good thoughts.