Trainwreck

Your grandmother is in the hospital.

The message flashed across Jane’s fitness watch as she sat in the theater watching Captain America: Civil War. She looks at her wrist again, reading to make sure she understood the message correctly. 

Your grandmother is in the hospital.

What did Jane’s grandmother mean her grandmother was in the hospital? Her grandmother seemed fine before Jane left to catch the early matinee show. Grammy was laughing, smiling, and yelling at the wrestlers on an endless loop on the DVR. Now Jane’s mother was saying her grandmother was in the hospital?

Jane grabs her bag from the empty seat next to her. She searches for her phone in the dark of the theater. Phone in hand, she makes her way out of the theater, her heart pounding in her chest. Jane stands in the hallway just outside the theater and scrolls through her contacts to call her mother. Jane’s mind scrolls through every possible worst-case scenario concerning her grandmother.

Yes, Grammy was getting up in age. She was 92 years old, but she still had a lot of life left in her frail little body. Even though her dementia had gotten to her over the years and whittled her body and mind, Grammy’s feistiness never faltered. She’s taken sick before and had been admitted to the hospital years previously. The strongest woman Jane knew was now back in the hospital. How?

“What’s going on? What happened this time?” Jane demands in a loud voice. She didn’t care if her voice throughout the corridor. Jane needed answers right then right now.

“She felt weak,” Jane’s mother explains. “She began throwing up her lunch and didn’t stop. I called the ambulance to the house because I didn’t feel safe taking her. They checked her out and took her to the hospital.”

A lump grew in Jane’s throat. “Are you with her?”

“I’m with her now.”

“But how is she?”

“They’re doing tests on her now. I’ll let you know.”

Jane’s knees grew weak, and she wanted to fall to the floor. The vagueness of the answer scares Jane. She rushes out of the movie theater, sore knee be damned.

She’s going to leave me. She’s going to leave me. I’m not ready for her to leave me.

Pressure wrapped around Jane’s forehead, her stomach tightened with her growing panic. Her grandmother might not make it home this time. Jane brushed by two men looking to sign up blood donors. She makes up some lame excuse to get out of talking to them. Jane races down the sidewalk as fast as her feet can take her, huffing and puffing to make it to the train station three long blocks away to catch that train without passing out on the sidewalk. Jane wished she had a car, then she would drive directly to the hospital. She backtracked on that line of thinking. Driving is not a good idea in Jane’s present state of mind.

She’s gonna die. She’s gonna die. I’m not ready...I need my grandmother. I need more time…

Jane’s heart is practically beating out of her chest, and she can’t think of anything else, but getting to that train station and getting on that bus to go home. Holding back her tears, Jane swipes her Metro card and walks up the escalator, which she usually doesn’t do because of her fear of falling, but Jane needs to sit down. Her head feels like it’s going to fall off her shoulders any second if she doesn’t get to that bench. Jane needs to site and calm herself.

But she can’t calm down.

Jane’s thoughts and emotions come rushing at her like that Metro train she waited for. They shot at her at breakneck speed - no brakes, no final destination, and running through barriers entirely out of control.

My grandmother is dying. My grandmother is dying…

“Breathe, Jane.Breathe.”

Jane can’t catch her breath. She can’t speak. Between the tears and the panic, she calls her mother to let her know she’s at the train station. Her fingers are barely able to get to the number because of the shaking. Jane’s breathing is getting harder to control. She can’t catch her breath.

“I can’t have you passing out on the train like New York. You need to calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down! I can’t!” Jane snaps.

“Okay. Okay. Control your breathing. 1...2...3...1...2...3… Trust me, it will be alright. Your grandmother will be alright.”

Deep breaths in, deep breaths out. What do they say about panic attacks? Find things you can touch, see, smell?

Damn it! I can’t remember.

Jane controls her breathing enough where she doesn’t feel like she’s going to pass out. Her leg bobs up and down. She thinks about her grandmother and all the times she was a less than stellar grandchild. Downright hateful even. Jane never meant to mean, impatient, concerned about her needs rather than her grandmother’s although they lived under the same roof. Time is too short to be spiteful. Stop taking life for granted. This was Jane’s wakeup call. 

Soon the train squeals into the station. Jane stands and takes the first window seat nearest the door. She plugs in her headphones and tunes out the voices in her head with her favorite music. It’s the only thing that can calm the stormy seas of her mind. And now, Jane has a view to distract her from her thoughts as well as her playlist. She sits back and attempts to relax.

“I’m almost home,” Jane says to herself. “Thirty minutes to get to my stop, and then I’m almost home.”

It’s a bit of a walk from Jane’s stop to the bus. It’s quiet and lonely - perfect for Jane because she is no mood to talk. She paces back and forth, waiting for the bus. Her nervous energy doesn’t allow her to sit or take a calming breath. And the band plays on through her headphones. In the middle of songs, she checks her watch and counts down the minutes until the bus whips around the corner. 

15…8…5...now…

The fifteen-minute ride is the longest ride home. It’s Sunday afternoon, and the bus is near empty. Jane is hopeful there won’t be many stops in between to get to hers. Again she sits near the door in the back of the bus. Her foot pressed to the metal floor, psychically urging the driver to speed it up. Jane clutched the house keys in her hand hard enough to leave deep red marks in her palm. With her free hand, she texts her mom to tell her she’s almost home.

Jane is one block away from the bus. She can see her home across the street.

Home.

Home is a comfort. Home is safety. Home is where Grammy’s love surrounds Jane. Home is where Jane’s dog licks away the tears as Jane waits to hear from her mother again and tells her she’s bringing her grandmother back home. Home is also where she will be alone with her thoughts because there is nothing within those four walls to quell the fear. Jane just wants her Grammy back. She will kiss her grandmother, hug her and say ‘I love you, I love you,” over and over again and all will be well in the world.

Until next year.