What color *is* oatmeal anyway?

My grandmother (Mimi) is having a birthday this month. She’ll be 86.

If she makes it.

Not because she might die on her own, but because I may have to snap that stubborn old woman in half. Like a toothpick.

Friday started out like any other Friday, until I got this text message from my sister-in-law.

“I’m at Mim’s. Her blood pressure is 220/118 and she’s having chest pains. I told her we need to call the paramedics but she’s refusing. Can you help? She’ll listen to you.”

Option A: Pick up the phone and try to talk some sense into her, but she can’t hear worth a shit and I’d end up getting frustrated and yelling obscenities at her and then not only would she have a heart attack FOR REAL but I’d go to prison for killing her.

Option B: Drive the 20 minutes to her house and yell obscenities at her in person while waiting for the paramedics. Effective AND fun.

I went with Option B.

I texted back, “On my way” and sped north to the area where I grew up.

I walked in the house and spotted my grandmother sitting in her favorite recliner. My sister-in-law was busy checking her blood pressure again. I looked at the sheet of paper where she’d been keeping track of the numbers. They were not good.

I knelt in front of my most precious Mimi and it was then that she noticed me.

“Hey. What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you. Are you having a heart attack?”

“No. I don’t think so. I feel fine.”

“So you’re not having chest pains or shortness of breath?”

She was panting away like a dog in heat.

“I feel OK.”

“Your blood pressure tells a different story, Mim. We need to go to the emergency room.”

“Oh, I look terrible!”

Eye roll. “So your plan is to just sit in this chair and wait to die?”

Laughs. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Well you’re not dying on my watch. Let’s go.”

“At least let me change my shirt.”

“Fine.”

I helped her to her bedroom and when we got there, she stopped and pointed to her bed. There were hundreds of papers spread out everywhere. “See that mess?” she said.

A blind person could’ve seen that mess. “Yes ma’am.”

“Well, that’s what I’ve been doing all morning.”

??? (I didn’t ask. And I *still* don’t know what she was doing with those papers. Paper Mache? Paper Airplane lessons? Rolling around on it like it’s money? If only I cared to find out)

We walked in her closet and as she began unbuttoning her flannel shirt, I perused two rows of old lady clothes. I grabbed a pullover knit top. She turned her nose up at me and said, “That doesn’t fit well.”

I hung it back up.

Shirt number two. A v-neck sweater in some shade of oatmeal. “That doesn’t match my pants.”

“It’s creamy whitish brown. It matches everything!”

“All right.”

I suddenly felt *MY* blood pressure begin to rise.

She paused to look in the bathroom mirror and said, “I was going to color my hair this morning but decided to mess with those papers instead. Can I at least put on some powder? I’m embarrassed to go anywhere like this.”

I looked in her eyes as she pleaded with me. It’s hard to say no to her. She’s undoubtedly the most precious little old (stubborn) lady on planet Earth.

“Yes. But HURRY!”

Four minutes and freshly applied powder later, we were finally headed to the car. At this point it didn’t seem like she was having a heart attack, but her breathing was scary and the fact that her blood pressure had been dangerously high for over an hour concerned us.

As we loaded her into my huge SUV she said, “I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

“I’m not going to take shit from you. Now get in.”

“What’s that you say?”

“I SAID PLEASE GET IN AND BUCKLE YOUR SEATBELT.”

What’s awesome about being with someone who can’t hear is that you can carry on a conversation with another hearing person in front of the non hearing person and she can’t even hear you–so you can talk about her. And that’s exactly what my sister-in-law and I did. And my grandmother just sat there looking out the window the whole time. Every once in a while during the twenty minute drive Mimi would throw out how she felt fine and wanted me to turn the car around. I chose those moments to pretend like *I* couldn’t hear.

Once we got to the hospital the staff immediately took her back for an EKG, blood work, X-rays…the works. I warned the nurse that she couldn’t hear well. She took that to mean she needed to scream in Mimi’s face. My grandmother said, “Hey, now YOU I can hear.” And then laughed as they wheeled her away.

When she was gone behind the double doors it hit me. My grandmother is old. And fragile. And probably not going to be here another fifty years (as was my original plan). I joke around about her being a nuisance and a pain to deal with, but it’s just that–a joke. If you know me in real life then you know just how very important that old lady is to me. She’s been my favorite relative since I was a little girl. She calls me Queen Bee. So for an instant I worried that maybe she wouldn’t come out of that hospital. For the first time EVER I realized she’s not immortal. She will leave me one day. The good news is it wasn’t Friday. Or Saturday. Or even Sunday.

She’s home now and ornery as ever.

Thank God.