Grandad Bob

Just got back from the hospital from seeing my grandad. He’s bad. After being so well after having the operation, he’re really gone downhill. I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all. My nan is worn out from going up there twice a day. She’s poorly herself and this is doing her no favours. She even said to me that she is just too tired. And my nan never admits when she’s feeling bad. She never asks for any help. Well anyway, they thought he was getting alittle better. So they let him have some icecream (he’s not eaten for the past 5 or 6 days) and straight away he threw up. When we were there he was being sick every 5 or 10 minutes. And it;s not like he has anything to bring up…because he hasn’t eaten. It’s just this black stuff. It’s not nice. He kept…I dunno…having something happen to his stomach. This happened like 5 or 6 times while I was there. It was scary. It looked like he was starting to have a fit. And he clutched his stomach. Man, I stopped breathing every time it happened. Now thinking about it I’mhavin trouble breathing. He’s hooked up to an oxygen tank now too. But I don’t understand why. He has…the opposite to asthma. I can’t remember what it’s called. So he can breathe in the oxygen, he just has trouble breathing out. And a nurse we know said the other day they shouldn’t put him on oxygen because of that. It might do him more harm than good…but I guess doctors know best, right? We have to trust them. Not that they even know what’s going on with my grandad. He has been in like 6 days and he hasn’t had a scan yet. All that’s written on his notes is "waiting for scan" and when my nan spoke to the nurse they said they couldnt diagnose what’s wrong until he has the scan. We haven’t said anything so far because we know there is a waiting list etc. But he has to have it soon. He’s getting worse. And if they can’t do anything until he has the scan then they wanna frickin hurry up. He’s also been having test on his heart rate. He’s panicking apparently and it’s causing him problems with his heart rate and breathing.

man, I don’t even know why I’, bothering writing all this. He’s bad ok? That’s all I really need to say isn’t it. I don’t want to think about it. I just want to pass out. I don’t want to listen to my thoughts. I don’t want to sit here remembering his face when he looked like he was fitting. I don’t want to remember my nan pointing out how much weight he’s lost and touchingthe skin hanging from his arms. I don’t want to remember him having to sit over the side of the bed and doubling up in pain. I don’t want to remember. I just want to go to sleep. I just want it all to go away.