Shut-in

It's only after getting the minivan that I realize what a hit we took going down to one car. Not so much because the van is four times the size of our commuter car, but because absent a second vehicle, E stays home.

We'd done this before - when the boy was born, we had a single car and managed to go almost two winters before buying the commuter. I say we, but the bulk of the inconvenience fell on E. In summer, being without a car was somewhat mitigated by our being within walking distance of parks, a library and a slew of stores and restaurants. Absent bad weather, E could take the boy places and get out and see people.

Of course, winter messes that up royally. The daunting logistics of getting an infant out the door compound when you have to winterize a stroller. Not to mention dealing with people who don't shovel, ice, crossing slippery roads and, oh yeah, it sucks to be outside when it's cold.

When I would watch the boy by myself, it was part of my regular sanity ritual to get out of the house. Maybe this is just my personal hang up - but staying inside the same structure with an infant/toddler just makes me claustrophobic. A lot like the feeling of spending two days sick in my bedroom: soon as I'm able, I want to get out.

E's been dealing pretty well overall, but it has got to wear a person down. I caught a window into this when E told me that with the boy she was on the phone with her mom every day.

We all need a way to get out of the house.

---

We took the van on its shakedown cruise up to see Grandma. She's seen pictures of baby e, but we'd really like to stop by and show her the real thing.

Jen and her family are going up with us in their van, which is a year younger than ours. Mom will be driving up in her rental car. Oddly enough, all our vehicles are the same color - we go to Grandmas looking like a motorcade.

Grandma's been living in a small apartment, so the thinking is that all of us descending on her at once is a bad idea. Mom's booked some hotel rooms for us on the edge of town. We'll be using the hotel as home base and popping over in shifts.

Unfortunately, the shifts never really happen. Grandma had a car accident and really isn't up for running around with her relatives. For three days, the routine revolves around keeping the kids occupied in a strange hotel.

The outdoors decidedly do not beckon. Overcast, rain and snow. Like mars with all the colors set to grey.

This leaves us with indoor distractions. Fortunately, our hotel has a free waffle bar and a pool. Three pools and a hot tub, two water slides, and a partridge in a pear tree. Wake up, waffle, get swim gear, hit pool. The boy is beyond happy. The adult lot of the pool experience is limited to staying ahead of possible dangers, but its still fun to watch the boy experience these things for the first time.

E's got baby e in the room, in the lobby, in the pool room for awhile. We lunch and dinner out in mechanical fashion, the days pass with not a lot of variety. I'm starting to get way too used to the layout of the place. It was New Years, so we got to hear every decibel of the New Year's Eve party below us - and we went out to IMHO, the nicest place in town for dinner.

Like I said, you gotta get out sometime.

---

The final act of the weekend was popping in to see Grandma in the hospital. She'd fallen in her house and it was decided that she should be admitted so they can get her meds right. She's on Coumadin, among other things, and for some reason the level never seems to get quite right. Too little, you get clots and worse. Too much, you can become weak, bruise easily, or even bleed internally. Grandma has had the minor strokes that indicated she wasn't getting enough. Now, she's getting the other end of the equation. The car accident was relatively minor - but she's already decided that she will no longer drive.

We'd seen her briefly the day after we'd arrived, and she'd had a major bruise on her face that just appeared overnight. Mom says she's clearly not happy that people are seeing her like this, and I can hardly blame her. She's been so independent for so long, and now the time she gets to see her family - she has to do it from a wheelchair looking like she has a black eye.

We motorcade over to the hospital and mom checks her room before we all barge in to make sure she's ready to see people. She is, but things are worse. Her bruising is on both eyes now, and one side of her face is so swollen she hardly resembles herself. She's never one to complain, and she says hi to everyone. The boy gives her a big hug. Almost as soon as we get there, the hospital staff informs us we have to get out so they can give her a CAT scan.

While we're waiting for her to come back, my aunt and uncle - Grandma's two children that are mercifully local - let the other shoe drop. The original thinking was that Grandma had fallen on the back of her head - that's what she'd said. It looks like what really happened was that she'd fallen forward, hit the front of her face on something hard, passed out, then fell onto her back, where she'd woken up. The nurse describes the facial bruising as "classic" indication of hitting her nose hard.

She'll recover from the bruising, and the Coumadin level will ultimately get sorted out - but the upshot is that Grandma will be going into a nursing home. The level of care she needs and the consequences of her not getting it have all but made this decision. It's a terrible realization. Grandma has been so independent, so outgoing - she'd lived alone in a house and maintained it for years by herself. She'd proudly said that the two flights of stairs between her bedroom and her washing machine kept her in shape (and I bet she's right). Calling Grandma used to be wondering if she was home, or if she was out running around with her friends - her regular Wednesday night dinners, she had a social schedule most people her age would envy. She certainly had health virtually anyone her age would envy. She did things, she got outta the damn house and lived life.

All of that stops with a bad stretch in her Coumadin regimen. The car accident means no driving, the fall, means no independence.

She goes into a building, and she doesn't come out.

It just breaks the heart.