I'm sorry for not having written about my Grandma sooner. Forgive me if I don't go into too much detail here. It's not that I find it particularly upsetting, per se. It's just that I have dissected every minutiae of her condition with almost every member of my family over the past week and I am starting to get a little tired of the subject. That sounds awful, but you don't know my family (although I'm sure there are enough of you with your own dysfunctional families to be able to sympathise.)

Grandma is 85 years old, but in excellent health. She takes two walks a day, doesn't drink or smoke, eats incredibly healthily. She even rides a bike from time to time.

Last Monday she went to the beach with my Aunt and Grandpa. She walked along the beach, paddled in the sea. Apparently she had a nice day. When the three of them got back home, Grandma went around to the back of the car and as she was pulling something out of the boot she fainted and fell backwards, hitting the back of her head, apparently very, very hard.

A brain scan at the hospital confirmed that she had three hemorrhages: one between her skull and her brain, one on the surface of her brain and one in her brain. Initially the surgeons didn't want to operate on her because of her age, but because she is so healthy they eventually decided to go ahead.

They removed the first two hemorrhages, but because of it's depth, left the third with the hope that it would not get any bigger. A scan conducted a couple of days after the surgery revealed that it had indeed not grown, which was good news.

However, she is not out of the woods. Because of the head injury Grandma is required to be resting horizontally, or almost horizontally, so that excess blood can be drained from her head. This means that there is a likelihood that fluid will build up on her lungs. If this happens she will more than likely develop pneumonia. Once again, because of her age, there is a possibility that she will not pull through that. That said, if anyone can pull through at her age, Grandma can.

In terms of how she is in herself, she sleeps most of the time, which is normal after brain surgery. When she is awake, she is still very dopey, but for the most part she makes sense. She does lapse into occasional dementia, but again, this is normal for someone who has recently had brain surgery. The other day she kept talking about a little black boy standing at the end of the bed. I was a little bit concerned that she was being politically incorrect and that I would have to berate her, but then I realised that a black gas cylinder was confusing her (she hasn't been wearing her glasses.)

The weird thing about all of this, from my perspective, is how well I am dealing with the whole situation. When I first heard the news from my Dad last Tuesday I was really tearful and upset. But then when I saw her and spoke to the doctors and felt a lot more philosophical. She may pull through and she may not. If this is her time to go, then we can all feel good about the fact that she has a good life, with great family and fabulous (fabulous!!!!) grandchildren. If it's not her time to go, then she will get through this and she will have more days on the beach and chats with friends and relatives over cups of Earl Grey tea.

I hope it will be the latter.

However, through all of this, I have been struck by the complete randomness of life. All of us know that we will "end" at some point. For some of us that end will be sooner than for others and will come about in a variety of different ways. In Grandma's case the doctors think that it is possible she fainted because it was a hot day and she was dehydrated. That could have happened to anyone, regardless of their age. I mean, people jump into swimming pools and emerge paralysed from the neck down.

In particular I recalled a Phoebe-ism from Friends:

"Yeah, it's just so strange. I mean, she probably woke up today and thought, 'Ok, I'll have some breakfast, and then I'll take a little walk, and then I'll have my massage.' Little did she know God was thinking, 'Ok, but that's it.'"

For me, anyway, it re-illustrates the age-old phrase, "Live each day as if it were your last."