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They are speaking around me in hushed tones with guarded words, as if I were ten again. But both my hearing and my comprehension have improved since childhood and I know what they are speaking of ...my grandfather. For no obvious reason he has deteriorated a little each day since the surgery and has now been returned to ICU. The word ‘age’ is bounced around often by the nurses. They now suspect a bowel obstruction and will let him neither eat nor drink ... he is miserable and angry. New information is difficult to get; the doctors are always busy elsewhere and the nurses are not enthusiastic about decoding the chart for us. We are allowed four visits of thirty minutes each day. To see him you must first wait in a tiny room packed with grieving people and screaming children for someone to come escort you through ICU. We schedule our visits with each other before going, there are more of us than there are allowable times during the day. It is a small hospital, he has been in the room my aunt was in, he is now next to the room his wife (my grandmother) was in. It is an uncomfortable place to be ... for him and for us. I feel ill and anxious when I’m there and guilty when I’m not. I cannot imagine how much more difficult it must be for my uncle and cousin. I do not know how I will get through this again - be it now or in a few years. I do know that there is not choice but to go forward. If ‘back’ were an option I’d have left long ago.