I thought about calling the police, but I haven't figured out if I'm losing
my mind or if my entire family has lost theirs. Maybe I'll wake up
soon and this will all have been a terrible nightmare. For context. I'm
an only child and the only grandchild of my last living grandmother. A couple
weeks ago, while at work, I received a phone call from my mother
informing me that my grandmother had taken a fall in a kitchen. Mom said
that my uncle Loo was with her and already in the ambulance. Paramedic suspected
she had a fractured hip and somehow sliced open her foot. She was edated
due to the pain, but was otherwise responsive and fine. I immediately asked
if I should meet them at the hospital, but Mom said, no,
no, don't leave work. I'll update you once I know more, so
I waited. I loved my grandmother, but she's probably the most stubborn woman
I've ever met. She has a home remedy for just about anything and loathes
seeing doctors, so I'm sure she won't be fun to deal with. We'll
confined to a hospital bed. It doesn't help that Grandma absolutely refuses to use
a walker or cane despite her debilitating age, and will not leave a house
to live in a nursing home. Six months ago, Uncle Lou moved in
with her to help out. Not that he said it out loud, but
a voice suspected that he did it more for the free rent. With nothing
else to do, I sat at work, distracted and waited for a phone
call from Mom with news. That call didn't come through until long after I'd
gotten home and was brushing my teeth for bed. Apparently Grandma was awake now
and doing fine. She would need surgery for the broken hip, but they
were able to get the laceration on her foot stitched up and bandaged. I
asked to speak with her, so Mom held the phone up to Grandma's ear
and I told her I loved her and would come see her once she was
discharged. The hospital only allowed two visitors, and Mom and Lou refused to
leave her side. Hi, honey, Grandma said through the receiver, I'm
okay, but they won't let me leave. My Mom's voice in the background
exasperately explained that she needs surgery, so they tell me. She houghed,
I'm fine, Anna come see me when I'm home and we can play cards.
I smiled, promised the visit, and said good bye. She was
discharged the following week and sent home. The hip replacement was successful, but
she developed a nasty infection on her foot. Between the two ailments, Grandma
was confined to a bed. Once she was comfortable at home, Mom gave
me the okay to come over, so I made some chicken dumpling soup and
sat on the chair beside her while Mom spoon fed it into Grandma's mouth.
There you go, mom, my, Mother encouraged. As Grandma sipped the
broth off the spoon, I could tell Grandma was wildly out of it.
I had been expecting an earful about having to use a bedpan, but due
to the cocktail of narcotics and antibiotics, she merely grumbled in annoyance at Mom's
and loose constant hovering. For what it was, she seemed in good spirits,
if not exceptionally tired. After about two hours and two small soup,
misshaps and I got up to leave. Mom saw me to the door.
She'll be fine, Anna, Mom reassured Lou and I had taken care of
everything. Don't worry. I left feeling optimistic that my grandmother would be back
to a spit by herself relatively soon. That visit with a soup was over
two weeks ago, now, not long after Mom took a leave of absence
at work and holed up in Grandma's house with Uncle Lou. Each time I
called Mom and gave a new excuse as to why I shouldn't visit. Risk
of infection, flu season, fatigue, bowel issues, you name it.
At first, I accepted these excuses at face value. They seemed legit.
But I can't even get Mom to put Grandma on the phone anymore. I
made more soup yesterday and dropped it off, but Uncle Lou met me at
the door and said it wasn't a good time, but he'd make sure she
got it, and we'll always let her know when you call, he assured.
I noticed there was an intense floral, yet antiseptic scent coming from the
doorway. Your mom won't stop cleaning, he explained. Frustrated, I called
and complained to my father on my way home, but he defended Mom.
Like always, She's always been like this, he reminded me. They're extremely
close, your mom and Grandma and Lou well, this just seems like classic
lou You know, this is the first time they really had to face the
reality of the mother's age. They're just protective and scared to lose her.
I figured he was right, and I hung up the phone, feeling a
little less unsettled. On Grandma's eighteen ninth birthday, however, I decided I
wasn't going to take no for an answer. I would go over there and
give her the present I purchased for her, a new thriller by a favorite
author. I arrived at the house in late afternoon and noticed all the blinds
were closed. Being that it was a warm spring day, it was common
for Grandma to have all the windows open and drapes open, letting in both
the sunlight and fresh air. I knocked twice on the front door, but
no one came. I knocked again, no answer. I tried the knob,
but the door was locked. I paused for a moment, considering that
maybe no one was home, maybe Grandma had her follow up with a surgeon.
But both cars were in the driveway, so I knocked again louder.
The door opened a crack, and a foul odor filtered out, nearly choking
me, ma'am, I exclaimed, when a face appeared on the other side
of the door, What is that smell? Seeing it was only me,
she opened the door another inch. The infection's gotten worse, but we're monitoring
it. Should I call an ambulance, I asked, in a panic,
pulling my cell phone from my pocket. No, no, Anna, she
quickly reassured me. We have it handled. I stopped by and picked up
refills over antibartics earlier, and we've been on the phone to a surgeon.
Relieved, I took a deep breath, but the smell was so overpowering.
Mom. That smell is ungodly. Why don't you open the windows? We
tried, she said, but she got so cold. Mom shrugged and didn't
move. Can I come in, I asked, attempting to look over her
shoulder into the dim house. I really didn't want to go inside due to
the smell, but if Grandma wasn't doing well, I wanted to see her.
I don't think it's a good idea, she murmured. Where's Uncle Lou?
I asked up stairs in his room. Her voice was reassuring, but
the smell turned my insides. Surely a smell like that could only mean bad
things. I pushed the door open, and Mom protested, just come back
another day when she's feeling better. I promise you that Lou and I have
this under control. In the kitchen, the odor was strong, but mixed
with the smell of bleach. I couldn't tell if that made it better or
worse. At least, let me see her and give her a birthday present.
Mom looked down to see the rapt gift in my hands and sighed.
Of course. She said, gosh, I'm sorry, we've just been so
preoccupied. I'm sure she'll love it. At that moment, Uncle Lou came
trotting down the stairs and smiled at me. Annah, Mom will be so
happy you're here. I looked at my mother incredulously. She was staring at
her feet. Now what was going on? Uncle Lou continued down the hall,
and I could hear him as he opened the door to Grandma's bedroom.
Mom, you have a visitor for your birthday. The smell of the house
was searing my nostrils, but I wasn't going to let Grandma know. I
was a repulsed by it. Mom led me down the hall to Grandma's bedroom,
instructing me along the way to put on a brave face. I blasted
a smile across my face as I turned the corner into the room. Grandma
was sitting up in bed, and Uncle Lou had taken a seat on the
mattress beside her. His body obscured most of the view, but I could
see her feet where they stuck out from under the quilt. The toes and
her right foot were black with crumbling toenails and festering saws. The sheets under
a heel stained yellow from dried puss. Lou was prattling on to her,
but Grandma didn't respond. Isn't it nice for Hannah to come see you on
your birthday? Mom? Goodness knows you've been through a lot this month.
She has a present for you. He turned expectantly to me, his profile
moving just enough to reveal Grandma's form where she sat up against the pillows.
Grandma's dull, lifeless eyes stared straight ahead at the wall, unblinking and glazed
over. Her eyes were crusty and a jaw hung wildly agape, with sagging
lips revealing a gray fuzz that had begun to coat her tongue. Uncle Loo
patted her leg while Mom hastily pulled the quilt back down over her feet.
I barely heard as Lou explained how colch she's been from the infection. He
picked up a tissue from the box on the night stand and began dabbing at
the corner of her mouth. She doesn't talk much due to the heavy sedation
she's under, he explained. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the pallid
gray skin of Grandma's face and how it was starting to sag in ways that
had nothing to do with her rage. Flies buzzed overhead, and Mom picked
up a fly swatter and began swatting wildly at them. Goddamn flies, she
mumbled, They won't leave her alone. One of the flies circled Grandma's face
and landed in her open more. Uncle Lou merely shooted away. She's been
sleeping sitting up like this for the past week or so, Mum explained,
patting Grandma's now covered feet. The pain is just too much for her to
lay down. We tried, but her muscle spasm and she can't move.
My knees were shaking and I could all but back out of the room,
reaching and pressing myself against the opposite wall, vomit creeping up the back of
my throat. Here it took heay Anna, Uncle Lou said from inside the
room. I know it's hard to see her in such a state, but
that's why your mom and I are here to take care of her. We
agreed we wouldn't let her go back to that hospital. They've already messed up
so much of a care. You saw a foot and what the doctors did
to it. How a hospital could let gangreene go unnoticed is beyond me.
Mom agreed. We've been sponge bathing her regularly, airing her feet, and
changing the bandages frequently. It seems to be helping, right, Mom,
she asked, squeezing grandma's uncle. I tried to put my head between my
knees, but the smell was so overpowering. Mom stepped out in the hallway
and touched my shoulder. I recoiled. Oh, Hannah, I am sorry.
This is why I didn't want you to come over. The gangreene smell
is hard to tolerate, and I didn't want you to have to see it
like this. Not knowing what else to do, I pulled her into the
kitchen and said, in my most steady voice, Mom, why didn't you
tell me Grandma passed. Mom's face didn't change. She just looked at me.
What are you talking about, Anna, She's right there. You saw
her? Yeah, I did see her, I agreed, pointing at the
bedroom down the hall, where the smell was so strong that I was close
to passing out. But Grandma is dead, Mom, You know that right,
She's very obviously passed away. Mom's eyebrows narrowed as she pursed her lips.
Listen, Anna, I get that this is hard for you. Hell,
it's hard for all of us. But if you're saying this just to
hurt me, it's not going to work. Stop being a brat. Your
father is on the way over with a birthday cake. The room began to
spin, and I needed to get out of that house immediately. I tossed
the on the kitchen table and grabbed my bag, fleeing out of the kitchen
door and into my car, where I took deep gulps of fresh air.
I could see my mom at the large bay window looking out at me.
She looked angry and upset, but quickly turned and walked away. I pounded
the steering wheel, yelling obscenities other than an open casket funeral. I had
never seen a dead body before, let alone one that had clearly been dead
for weeks. But Grandma was undoubtedly dead, and my mother and uncle were
staying in that house with a corpse, washing it, feeding it, and
talking to it like nothing had changed. I threw open the car door and
vomited all over Grandma's neglected shrubs. By the time the dry heaths kicked in,
Dad's car pulled in the driveway. A sweetheart, he said. He
opened his car door, see me kneeling in the grass. Are you all
right? Your mom called and told me you were quite upset? Dad,
She's dead, I choked out, pointing at the house. Who's dead,
he asked, his voice worried Grandma, I shouted, Grandma is dead.
Mom and lou they're just sitting in there with a body. And calm down.
Your mum mentioned you're in hysterics and talking nonsense, talking nonsense, What
are you saying? I choked out. Go look, Dad, I swear
you'll see she's dead, and Mom and Luke have lost their minds, all
right, he said, holding up his arms in surrender. Let me grub
the cake and I'll go inside and see what's going on. Just stay here,
okay. I collapsed back in the front seat of my car, lasting
the ac in attempt to flush the smell of rotten flesh out of my nose.
It felt like an hour before the front door opened again, and Dad
calmly walked over to my driver's side window. Hi, Anna, bear,
he said, cautiously. Did you see her, Dad, You saw her
right, sh Anna, he said, placing her hand on my shoulder.
Calm down, Yes, I saw her, and she's very sick, but
otherwise alive. You Mom and Lou had taken good care of her. What
I nearly screamed, Come inside, Dad said, going for the door handle.
I quickly logged the car. Dad threw up his hands in frustration.
Just come inside, Anna, Uncle Lou is getting Grandma into a wheelchair and
we're going to have some cake. He glanced at the front wind go of
the house. Ah, see there she is. I glanced up to see
my grandmother's face at the window, her dead eyes looking blankly out over the
front yard. Brigamortis had made it so a body couldn't sit in the wheelchair
just right, even from a distance and through a pane of glass, I
could see death in her eyes and the shocking gape of her mouth. Her
face looked even more twisted now, as if she had taken a last breath
in a tremendous amount of pain. For what made me scream in abject terror
was that her cloudy pupils seemed to turn ever so slightly toward me. I
threw the car into drive and sped out of the driveway, ignoring the shout
to my father and uncle Loo bursting out the front door. I didn't dare
go home, where I was sure my father would follow. Were they right?
Was she actually alive? It's not like a checked for a pulse or
air and a lungs before I took off. I didn't touch her at all.
Could it be me then? Was either one having a nervous breakdown?
I don't know what to do now. I'm absolutely terrified. Rest of all,
When I closed my eyes, all I see is my grandmother's rotting face.