I've been in the waiting room for a few days now.
I asked my grandma today if I could go see grandpa.
"Grandma can I go see papa?"
"Oh honey he's not looking good."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well he's really pale and sick looking."
"It's ok grandma. I want to see papa."
It took a lot of begging but finally she took me out of the waiting room and to a hand sanitizer. I squirted some hand sanitizer on my hand and walked into the ICU.
Grandma wasn't kidding.
Papa was sooooooooooo pale. It was to pale to be ghostly or paper. It was deathly pale. He's was so pale he was a light green. He had his shirt off and had machines and breathing tubes and EVERYTHING hooked up to him. He was breathing so peacefully but he would shake. He would shake whenever he inhaled and sometimes have spasms. Sometimes his eyes would flash open when he exhaled. Very rarely though.
I say by his hospital bed for a few hours. Just watching him. Praying for him. Wishing him good luck. Wondering, "more good luck or is this goodbye?"
YOU ARE READING
Finding his way
Non-FictionThis is a true story about my grandpa when he got sick. I know usually when you think nonfiction your like "hsnsbdmsndvakaks". Well I'll try to keep you entertained
