Club Grandpa

I went with my sister to see my grandfather in the hospital this afternoon. He didn't look so good. He's covered in bruises now. You can clearly see his pacemaker (which he's had for years) under his skin. It's creepy. He's still cracking jokes, though, which is good. He told us that they're having a medical pow-wow tomorrow with/about him where they will decide what to do or "get the formaldehyde." It's kind of a shame his body is doing so much worse than his mind, because he's completely frustrated and not enjoying his uselessness and ready to be done with it already, but it's still so clearly Grandpa in there, it's hard to accept him giving up.

My sister half-jokes that she's trying to win points to get into "Club Grandpa." It's hard to get a sense of him and he doesn't really have a sense of her. He's the kind of person who sits back and lets people socially and emotionally come to him, and my sister does the same thing (though differently). There are a lot of blaring personalities on that side of the family so it's hard to get noticed unless you make the effort. I always made the effort. My sister and mother seem to resent the fact that they have to make the effort in order to get noticed. Reminds me a lot of myself as a teenager with trying to look my age. I have a young face and I'm very short, so people think I'm much younger than I am. I used to struggle a lot with being taken seriously or at least seen as the age I was, and I knew I could wear more makeup or dress differently so people would stop mistaking me for 12, but why should I have to change myself for people to see what I already am?
Ooh, that was pithy.

I can't it's already the weekend. Harder to keep track when there's not much separating the days of your week. Odd.