life in a hospital.

So for the past couple days, all day long, I've been in a hospital in colorado. My grandpa fell and broke his hip, and has the worst bruise I've ever seen. Also, lots of fluid was getting into his lungs, causing a lobe to collapse. He was refusing treatment that would drain the fluid and put him on a machine, for the machine part, and they thought that he would be too far gone in a couple days. However, my grandpa is the toughest man I've ever met, and the day after we got there, he was awake and spitting stuff out of his lungs by himself. A miracle. He can most likely go home on Monday. Thank you, those of you who knew and prayed.

Spending the majority of your time in a hospital really makes you think a lot. About everything. What life means to you.

The first night I got there was heartbreaking. It was late, and my grandpa had been asleep for the entire day. They tried to wake him to tell him my mom was there (he loves her more than anything, except God of course), but he still wouldn't wake up. In the process of trying to wake him, my mom and grandma were lifting his head. At one point he grunted and his face wrenched up and his hand went to his neck. The pain in my mom's voice as she laid his head back down and exclaimed "I'm sorry daddy! I'm sorry!" still hasn't left my mind, even though everything got better shortly afterward.

The nurse that night, Erin, was marvelous. I wanted to hug her every time she came into my grandpa's room to change the IV and such, because she stroked his hands and hair every time, like she'd known him and loved him all her life.

I met a man the next morning at the cafe downstairs. His order came to $1.08 and he asked the barista if she had 8 cents. She said no, so he started taking out another dollar. I stopped him and told him I had change, and gave him a dime. He proceeded to announce to everyone there that he just loved when things like that happened to show that people still care about each other, and that I'd made his day. I couldn't believe that a dime would make someone's day, but it made me so happy. He told me that he was there for a minor stroke, and that he'd learned so much about himself, and still had a long way to go.

On the way back to the room I saw a little girl, about three or four, with extremely thin, wispy hair. She was walking down the hall, tubes hanging down from under her shirt, with her mom walking next to her, pushing the IV.

There were little signs outside patient's doors to let nurses know certain things. For example, one room said "high risk of falls," another said "no free water" etc. One door had many signs on it. They were along the lines of telling the nurses to keep the door closed, be careful of contact, that the patient couldn't have contaminated air getting into the room, and the very worst said isolation. As I watched, nurses had to put on masks and things to make sure they didn't contaminate the patient in any way. As I walked by, they left a crack in the door and I saw a man laying in the bed, utterly alone except for when the nurses came in. It was heartbreaking.

I met a man from New Zealand on my last day there, he'd been there for 10 days after crashing his son's tractor into a tree. Turns out his son is the sheriff at the jail where my grandma cooks. He was very talkative, saying hello in all the patient's rooms down the hall. He talked to us for a long time, telling stories and jokes. He was very funny. The look of true concern on his face every time my grandpa coughed made me swell with gratitude at the compassion he had for someone he didn't know. He got to go home.

And this whole time, I'd been spending time with my amazing grandfather, who has been amazing the doctors with his recovery. We talked about all kinds of things. I'm so excited that he gets to go home soon. And I'm in awe at all of the levels of strength and love I've seen.