My mother is quite nuts.
Really. I'm sure everyone's parents are a little (or very much) anal at some point or another, but my mother, she.. worries too much. One of our christmas ornaments broke -- just a small piece that could easily be glued and no one would notice -- and she starts going on this crazy rant about how I probably broke it and didn't want to tell her. All the while she's flailing her hands and making groaning noises as though it's irreplaceable.
Please.
I talked to Steve last night. We talked about things and decided it'd be best if we went our separate ways.
Kidding, kidding. Oh man, I got you.
But I did talk to Steve last night, and we talked about many things, things of which separating was never involved. I just thought I'd play a joke on you. Heh. Love you, Steve. :)
Last Thursday I went to the hospital to visit my Gramma. I brought her a yellow rose, which she loved. She's in the hospital because she has cancer. She was diagnosed quite some time ago, in fact I think I wrote an entry about it if you think you can find it. It's been hard on us all, as it'd be hard on anyone. I thought visiting her at the hospital was the nice thing to do, considering none her other grandchidren have thus far. Besides that, the hospital is a few miles from my house.
Anyway, I have this deep-rooted fear of the hospital. Even though it doesn't relate much, because I don't plan on being admitted into the hospital for anything serious anytime soon, I have this fear. Steve said it's subliminal, it's there but I don't know it's there, or that it's the reason. If you followed any of that.
When I was around ten years old both my grandparents on my father's side were admitted into the hospital, and we visited them almost every day, so I spent a lot of time at the hospital. My Grandma was infected by a virus the patient in the next room had, from a nurse who didn't wash her hands between visits. Shitty, I know. I'm sure we could've sued, however we were all emotionally distraught and didn't see any purpose in doing so, so it was dropped. My Grandpa passed away less than a month later, which made things even worse. I've been wanting to visit their graves, which sounds morbid in a sense, but I do. The cemetery is a bit of a drive, but I'd like to go one day.
So as I was saying, I have this fear of hospitals because I've come to believe that when people go into a hospital, they don't come out.
And that's why I'm sad my Gramma is in there. Unlike a lot of my friends, and most of my cousins, she's the only grandparent I have left. And to tell you the truth, I don't think I'll see her outside the hospital anymore. In my eyes, the hospital is sort of the last stage before death. As much as I want her to recover from this mess, I've already started preparing myself because in my mind, I know what comes next.
I'm visiting her nevertheless. I'm visiting her because I'm physically able to, and I want to believe she can recover. I wasn't very active in visiting my grandparents in the hospital. We went a lot, but I'd always beg to stay home.
So I'm going.
Supposidly one of the BeeGees died this morning. As a result, my mother has been listening to the BeeGees perpetually, I'm guessing, since the exact moment he passed. I didn't even know they made that many cds.
Melanie, Heather and Lyndsay are bringing my a hot chocolate from Caribou, and then we'll probably play ourselves some Dr. Mario. Fun stuff.
So update this.
Guten bach.