My hero, my best friend, my Grannio (a.k.a my Grandmother)
She raised me like I was her own daughter from the day I was born 32 years ago.
She loved me like nobody else has ever loved me in my life.
She stood by through the most difficult days I've ever known.
She showed me more unconditional love and support than I've ever imagined.
She taught me how to live, how to love, how to be a lady, how to be a mommy and how to survive.
For 78 years, she had always been as healthy and stubborn as a mule.
About a year ago she stood by my side and fought tooth and nail to help me survive a bitter custody battle and win primary custody of my wonderful two year-old son, who is her only great-grandchild, and the love of her life and my life.
After fighting with everything she had inside of her and seeing me prevail in court, she suddenly became deathly sick. Within days she lost her ability to walk, eat, dress herself, or even get out of bed.
I quit my job to take care of her 24 hours a day. I spent every moment possible at her bedside, talking to her, trying to feed her, bathe her, brush her hair, change her clothes and make her take her medicine.
Finally my uncle, who lives 100 miles away from us, responded to my calls for help. He forced her to see a specialist in his home state.
She spent three months at one of the top hospitals in the country with more than ten doctors trying to figure out what was wrong with her. She suffered a heart attack. She had to be connected to life support. She was forced to have several emergency surgeries to remove a tumor, to remove a blood cot, and a few others to save her life, they said.
My son was not allowed to visit her. She cried a lot. She begged me to bring him. She asked for me constantly. I was told I couldn't visit for various reasons, primarily, because I was too emotional. I called her every day until they took her phone away.
I thought she was going to die.
She gave me a list of things I had to know, like where the safety deposit keys were hidden, where her cash savings was stowed at the house, where the bank accounts were and how much money she had and who was supposed to get what when she died.
I prayed every day - several times a day. I began a nightly ritual with my son, who learned to say "God Bless Ger," when he barely said other more common words, like "daddy."
Somehow, some way, some where, God was listening. He gave me the greatest blessing and answered our prayers about a month ago. The doctors finally identified Grannio's illness as 'vasculitis' and began intensive treatment.
Two weeks ago she was moved from the hospital to a rehabilitation center, just 10 miles from our home. She can't walk and she is just beginning to regain use of her arms, but she's alive. Thank God.
God granted us a miracle by giving life back to my Grannio.
My faith is unfathomable.
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Joined
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