What’s happening? I said. I had Lou’s angel in my backpack. I snuck it onto Grandma’s stomach under the hospital blanket while Mom and the nurse were busy staring at the machine. I moved Grandma’s hand on top of the angel so she could feel it.
The nurses brought Grandma to intensive care. They stuck a hose down her throat that did her breathing for her so she could just rest. It was taped to her cheek. The corner of her mouth was stretched out from the hose. There was blood in the corner of her mouth. It was so noisy. It was as loud as the arcade at Dufferin Mall. Machines were beeping and blowing air and dinging and gurgling. They wanted to pack Grandma in ice. They asked Mom if she would try to slide Grandma’s wedding ring off her finger. Mom tried to get it off but couldn’t get it over Grandma’s giant knuckle. Grandma didn’t even know Mom was trying to steal her jewellery. You should try eucalyptus oil, I told Mom. She didn’t hear me. There were nurses clustered around Grandma. Mom kept having to move out of the way. Gord kept knocking against Grandma’s hose. The nurses told me and Mom to sit in a little room down the hall for a few minutes. One of them patted Mom’s stomach. They’d come and tell us when to come back.
Mom and I went into the little room, and then believe it or not Mom wet her pants. She must have worried that she hadn’t prepared me for reality by embarrassing me enough times so would just try to fix that right away. What the holy hell! I said. Mom! Oh my God, said Mom. It’s my fucking water. Zhhhhzhus Khrssst. She said Jesus Christ the way I’d said it in California. It was cool and funny how she said it with her teeth clenched and her mouth all puckered. I had inherited cool things from her after all.
15.
This next part is for Grandma who likes speed and laughing. She likes stories to be fast and troublesome and funny, and life too. She doesn’t like hauling epic things around. Which is why she saws up her books. I forgot to tell you that Grandma is part Christian and part secular existentialist. Mom told me that. I just found that out when I filled out the religion part of Grandma’s hospital form. Will she want to see a chaplain? A rabbi? A priest? I read these out to Mom. Mom said Grandma wants to see Gord. I wrote down Gord.
Mom and I were standing in four feet of broken water in the little room next to where Grandma was hooked up to the hose and getting packed in ice. Two nurses came and took Mom to a different part of the hospital in a wheelchair. I ran along beside them. I did a cartwheel for Mom. One of the nurses said to the other nurse, That’s just what girls her age do non-stop. She said my legs were totally straight in the air. I did another two cartwheels for Mom and the nurse before we deked into an elevator. Mom smiled, but like she had sort of forgotten how. Then Mom was being examined. I was sitting alone in another room with a TV hanging from the ceiling. How the blazes was I supposed to turn it on way up there? I coughed from nervousness. The nurse came back and told me Mom was eight inches dilated. That was a horrific mental picture, but I nodded and smiled. I wanted to say Mom’s and my signature Zhhhhhzhus Khrssst but the nurse was all business, man. Do you know what that means? the nurse said. I nodded again. It means she’s in labour, said the nurse. Duh, no kidding, lady! I wanted to say. But I smiled and nodded again for the forty-ninth time. The nurse came over and put her hand on my arm. Do you speak? she said. I nodded fast, the way Grandma’s head does when it involuntarily shakes. I tried to let sound out of my mouth. Your mom’s gonna be fine, said the nurse. She rubbed my arm. Do you—is your—is there another adult we could call to be with you?
Dot. Dot. Dot. Well??? Someday never comes! You have to figure that out fast, when you're a kid. That’s the CCR song that Grandma loves. I play it for her in the morning to get her blood moving. ENNA-way.
The nurse gave up on me saying anything just as some words finally came out. It’s too soon. The nurse put her hand on my arm again like it was the talking stick from group therapy and she didn’t have permission to talk without holding on to it. No, honey, she said. It’s fine. It’s a bit early but everything is fine. I knew she was going to suggest that I go and get a doughnut. Why don’t you go get a snack? she said. I said, Mmmmm. I didn’t want her to go. I was waiting for her to say doughnut. Like what kind? I said. Oh, just whatever you want. Do you have money? I said, Mmmmm. How much do I need? She said that depends on what I’m getting. For instance? I said. The nurse said, For instance a chocolate bar or a granola bar is about two bucks I think, from the vending machine. A bag of chips might be less. Hmmmm, I said. And if I went to the Tim Hortons in the main lobby? Oh, well, there, yeah, you could get a snack there, that’s true. Hmmmm, I said. Like …？ The nurse said I could get myself some Timbits or a muffin. I nodded. Or …？ I said. You could get chocolate milk or a scone, she said. This was fun. It was like being with Grandma. She knew I wanted her to say doughnut! You could even get a … she said. I smiled. Here it comes! I thought. You could even get a bagel with cream cheese! she said. I loved this nurse. I started laughing, sort of. I slumped my shoulders. The nurse laughed. Or a doughnut! she said. I stopped slumping and jumped up as high as I could and punched the air. Yessssss! I said.