Narritive_Essay

There it was the infamous clear jar with the bright blue lid. I knew the contents of that familiar jar. I took the jar and shook it, setting it down I watched the contents swirl its colorful contents. It was my grandpa’s signature homemade chili. It was common knowledge in my family, grandpa made the spiciest chili. My grandpa had always in my eyes almost godlike; I had never seen him face a task he couldn’t conquer. When something broke, grandpa was there with his tools ready to tinker till it was fixed. When anyone had a problem, he always had a life story or piece of advice handy to help. Grandpa was known as a proud and strong man, he sipped down his chili without so much as a tear. Also he enjoyed his coffee; I don’t remember seeing him without a cup of his Folgers. This is why no one seemed to notice his ailing health. My grandpa had been smoking since he was fourteen. Yet he never showed any signs of becoming ill. To me seeing him light up a cigarette was as normal me drinking a glass of water. So on the day my grandpa was rushed to the hospital, suffering a severe heart attack, sending wave of shock and surprise that rippled through the whole family. The heart attack was only the beginning of the domino effect of health problems for my grandpa. The doctors gave their diagnosis; he would have to have a quadruple by-pass. The heart attack occurred due to all four pathways to the heart had been clogged. The doctors said he was lucky; he could have died had he not been rushed to the hospital. With my mother making the call, they proceeded with the procedure. The surgery went really well, and in the coming days my grandpa recovered and healed in record time shocking all his doctors and nurses. Hearing of this news by eavesdropping on the grownups I just smiled. After all there wasn’t anything my grandpa couldn’t do; he was a god in my eyes. Once my grandpa got home, the family pulled together to care for the man that was usually the family glue. After the surgery, his lifestyle changed dramatically. Two weeks after he was released, he formed clots in both his legs which the doctors said was a dangerous sign. Another trip to the hospital again, this time the diagnosis more severe. He had been smoking in secret, he had not quit like he promised he would. My first disappointment, I thought to myself he wasn’t just going to recover like you see on TV' Wasn’t quitting supposed to be that simple' Young as I was I didn’t understand at the time. Finding out he hadn’t and couldn’t just quit, everyone realized this was going to be a long road to recovery after all. Bottles of medications seemed to multiply by the dozens, and it seemed the phone was constantly ringing for more appointments. There was to be at least three more surgeries. With each surgery my godlike image of him dimmed, and slowly he started to look more human. With every pill he had to swallow, he just seemed to be getting weaker. It seemed as if his aging had finally caught up to him. Being that my grandpa’s home was the ICU I wasn’t old enough to see him. I hadn’t seen him since he was home & healthy from his heart attack. One day my mom got a nurse to spare me a few minutes to see my grandpa. As I walked into my grandpa s hospital room, was the day any godlike image I had was shattered and destroyed with a crude crashing into a wall of reality. When I saw him he was sitting up, I had been taken aback with shock and took in a deep breath as my mother nudged me forward. He looked so unfamiliar, like a relative that I only met as baby and didn’t remember. He looked ghostly white in comparison to his normal tanned glow. There seemed to be wires coming from all directions. What I remember most vividly was the feasible smile he tried to give me, as I walked closer to his bed. It broke my heart to see the amount of effort it took for him to give that smile. That smile was all it took for me to fully realize that my godlike grandpa was only human; he was really just a man.