Broken bones.

My great grandmother is 99 years old. 

She fell a week ago and up until just yesterday did she resist staying in the hospital. She's broken her back and oh, despite it all, she looks wonderful. We went to see her today. She laid there in her big mechanical bed, door ajar, eyes shut and hands folded patiently on her stomach. I knocked gently on the open door and she laughed and clapped her hands together in joy. 

We all piled into the room, taking turns edging around the bed for a hug. Her cheek was smooth and warm against mine as she hugged me firmly. She always hugged us tight and thumps us on the back. Instead of her typical matte and slightly flaky foundation, she was barefaced. Her skin was so soft and such a sweet shade of pink. Her blue-grey hair was unkempt from lying in bed, but it was darling. It really was. She didn't look like a frail, fragile old woman. She looked soft and dolly-like in her floral summer night gown. 

Fortunately for me, she wasn't wearing her glasses. Not a word was said about my hair. 

"I've never been so helpless in my whole life," she fretted, wiggling a bobby pin. "I just don't know what to do. I've taken care of myself all my life. Always." 

I played with one of her socked feet under her sheet and smiled at her gently. "You're going to have a rough time for a while, but you'll get better." 

She nodded briefly.

She talked to mom about work and my dad, she talked to my siblings about school. She asked me about my boyfriend. "Is that feller that's going to take you away from all of us still in the picture?" 

We've been broken up over a year now, she knows that.

"You know, I love him very much but we've both got some growing up to do. That's all I can say right now. I won't be taken away though, I promise you that." It was nothing but the truth.

She said very little about her pain, about her condition. Almost as if she didn't want us to take notice. She winced now and again as she attempted to reposition herself. "They didn't give me so much pain medicine cause I'm so small. They didn't know what I could handle. Maybe I coulda had more." She hissed in pain and she attempted to straighten herself. She raised her eyebrows at me. "You're sort of the runt of the litter, aren't ya?" 

I laughed. "Aren't you?" 

Funny statement from a woman who isn't even five feet tall. 

She pawed at the air between us and smiled. 

It upset her that she didn't have any candy to give us like she always does. 

She talked about god. 

She quoted my great grandfather. He died 12 years ago, but to this day, she speaks about him in present tense. 

I like that. 

After some time, she asked us to help sit her upright so that she could eat the meal that had long since gone cold on her bedside table. She caught her breath in pain as she shifted her weight. I caught sight of my sister's bottom lip trembling and took it as a reminder to check my own expression. 

Slow, slow. I readjusted her pillow under her head and slid the arm of the table over her chest. I rearranged her entree, drink and dessert on her tray so that she could reach them properly. I unrolled her silverware roll and laid the pieces out. "Honey, you don't have to do that." She struggled to peel open her carton of milk. "You know, I've never drank milk in my life until I came to this place. They act like I should." My mom left to reheat her coffee and tell a nurse she needed more pain medication. 

"Here." I took the carton from her and easily peeled it, popped open her bendy straw and slid it in, refolding the paper around it so it wouldn't leak on her nightgown. 

"You'd make a good nurse yet. Better a nurse than an old maid!" She clapped her hands at her own joke.

"Eh, I'd be an awful nurse. I just like you. Even if you do think I'll be an old maid."

"I don't. I was just foolin with ya." She squeezed my hand. Her arm was so bruised and a terrible, thick rubber tubing was taped to her tissuey skin. I tried not to look and just focus on the strength of her touch. She's such a tough woman. I told her so many times. Tough and stubborn.  

The straw slapped her chin as she went in for a drink. "Ha! I know where my mouth is. This is not the first time I've used a straw." She took half a sip. "There. You know, I've never been so helpless in my life." She set the carton back onto the tray and grabbed her fork, stabbing a now cold steamed carrot. She brought the carrot halfway to her mouth and shut her eyes. 

"Heavenly Father, please bless the food I'm about to receive for the nourishment of my body." I looked to see that my mother and siblings had snapped their heads down and closed their eyes. My mom and sister seemed to be fighting tears, their mouths twisting. My brother furrowed his brow. My eyes went back to her. I liked to watch her pray. I've never really understood closing your eyes for prayer. "and thank you Lord, God for bringing my family to be near me. We ask that you be with us. We honor you in our hearts, in Jesus's name." 

She opened her eyes and popped the carrot slice into her her mouth. "Cold. Ha!" She scooped a bit of the mashed potatoes and made a face. "All cold. If you want some, I can ask them to bring another plate. I've got lots. Take anything you want. I asked for a little bit of carrots and look! I wonder kindly what a lot is." We politely declined. She reached for the little strawberry shortcake on the far side of her tray and tore it to bits between her fingers, sucking the strawberries off of each slice between sips of scalding hot coffee. She wrinkled her nose and grinned. I felt my body relax. I hadn't realized how tense it was. 

We hugged her goodbye. She hugged me even tighter and kissed my cheek. I kissed her forehead. 

She's bounced back from a heart attack at age 97. Why should a broken back slow her down now when she hugs me so tight? A week without so much as an aspirin, she walked around her house, up and down stairs with a broken back. Why would this stop her?

There's nothing broken about her.