6 March 2014
My grandmother’s sister is in the hospital and was in critical condition last night until this morning. She had undergone a mastectomy. From what I understand she was in the very early stages of cancer, and it was recommended to have her breast removed. The chances of women having cancer in our family is high; my grandmother has been a survivour for many years now, and so is my uncle.
The operation last Monday was successful, but there were some complications because my grand-aunt has a valve in her heart. Long story short, the doctor had to do an operation right on her bedside yesterday, but she has lost a lot of blood. It took some time for the transfusion to happen, because there was something in her blood that’s rejecting the donour blood. (I don’t have all the details; I apologise if this is confusing.)
The latest news is that she’s okay now, and we all could breathe a little easier.
I am trying to unpack my feelings about this, mainly that I don’t feel that much at all. My grand-aunt is an old maid, and she has lived alone for most that I’ve known her. She’s grumpy and has quite an abrasive attitude. She’s not unkind, not cruel–but I wouldn’t call her kind either. Not exactly. But she’s not two-dimensional, there’s more to her character, of course–what I’m trying to say is, we don’t have a close relationship apart from the visits that my sisters and I make to her house (we live on the same street) during Christmas.
I guess I’m worried for her, and hope that she would be all right soon. She was okay to me when I was younger, I remember that. But I guess there’s just too much dysfunction in my family for me to feel anything more deeply. I could sleep at night, is what I’m saying. Does that make me a bad person, who knows.
It’s a weird feeling.