So my grandpa has pretty much been sick off and on for a long time. He's 83 now, so that sort of comes with the territory. He was taken to the hospital yesterday because he was very weak. They gave him some fluids and meds, and his doctor(s) are figuring out what will be better for him since his new regimen is OBVIOUSLY not working as well as it should. Presently, I have no reason to be stressed, but I am still on edge.
He's been my only grandpa. Ever. My mom never really knew her dad, and her granpda that raised her died before I was born. I have had 3 grandmothers (my mom's bio-mom, her grandmother that raised her, and my dad's mom), 1 great-grandmother, and him. He's been my lone grandpa, and he is totally awesome. He's kind and happy and love-love-loves his grandkids. He treats us all like we are important and special to him, and it's something I cherish. As I've gotten older, I have loved to talk to him and see how his sense of humor is something that has been passed to me. I feel proud when I can make my granpda giggle, and I love the fact that he finds my jokes funny. We've had a nice bond as I've grown, and I like that our relationship has changed to where he doesn't treat me like a child, despite the fact that I am 55 years younger than him.
I know I'm getting ahead of myself by thinking of this, and he's been in the hospital before. Somehow, though, this is really getting to me. I know whatever will be will be (the future's not ours to see, que sera sera...), but still. Ugh.
On a happier note, I'm quite excited to go to "This Is It" with Lindsey tomorrow, and I'm looking forward to my b-day on Sunday. I haven't been running this week due to rain, so hopefully tonight will be a good night for it. I really wish we had the room/money for a treadmill so I could run at home when it rains and watch Buffy while I run. Then it would feel like I'm running toward David Boreanaz, which sounds quite lovely...