Our Hill of Stars

08 COPD

A S H L Y N 

I dozed on the couch, pulled from my nap by a hacking wheezing sound. I sprang off the couch confused, trying to center myself in the present. I searched around, looking for the source of the awful sound.

In the kitchen I could see Grandma Lucy bent over, coughing and clutching her cane for support. I rushed to her, nearly tripping over my feet in my haste to reach her. She wheezed and reached for a glass of water just beyond her reach.

"Here, straighten up and have a drink." I grabbed the glass of water and put it in her hand.

She took a drink, but she just spits the water up. I helped her lift her arms over her head and supported her as she sat at the kitchen table. Where the hell was her oxygen tank? I looked around but didn't see it nearby. She probably left it in her bedroom.

"Take deep breaths, Grandma, I'm here." I tried to get her to take a smaller sip of her water.

"Ashlyn," she wheezed, trying to grip my hands.

"No, put your arms up, Grandma Lucy," I instructed. "It'll help clear the airways. Remember what the doctor said?"

I lifted her arms once more. I rubbed her back and waited for the coughing jag to subside. It took over five minutes. My heart broke. These episodes were getting more frequent and lasting longer. And she never seemed to have her tank around her when she needed it. It was like she ignored it on purpose, even though the doctor said to keep it close.

Her usually wan complexion was flushed red from the coughing. I sat across from her, holding her hands. Her breathing was ragged now. It sounded like her lungs had filled with dust and she tried to clean them out, like an old air filter.

What was wrong with me? Comparing my poor Grandma Lucy to an air filter. I rubbed her hands. They were so cold in my grip, despite how hot the day was.

"I'm fine, Ashlyn." She smiled at me, but her body still shook.

She was not fine. I had expected the worse when I heard she was sick. I had envisioned her attached to an iron lung or something. Somehow this ok one minute doubled over coughing the next was worse than my worst imaginings.

"Grandma Lucy, maybe I should stay home tonight." Since our drink date at the piano bar I'd been looking forward to seeing Eli, but it was much more important to stay here with her.

"Oh hush, you worry-wart." Grandma Lucy took another sip of water. It sounded like her throat cleared more when she took in another deep breath. I was happy with that at least. "I'll be fine. It was just a bit of dust stuck in my throat."

We both knew that was a lie. Dr. Suarez said things would get worse from this point. Grandma Lucy's respiratory issues were a sight more terrifying than clearing phlegm and dust from one's throat. I hated that she downplayed that. I hated that she often kept her oxygen tank in her bedroom. Muriel, Sadie, and I were constantly pulling it out of her closest. I wondered often if she just didn't care or was in denial about her COPD. She had lived with it for years, with it steadily getting worse, but she carried on like she never received the diagnosis.

"Grandma Lucy, we need to take your blood pressure," I said, deciding not to engage on her lie about the dusty throat. I looked at the clock, blood pressure, and pills time.

"Alright, alright." She sounded annoyed with me.

I went into Grandma Lucy's bedroom and grabbed her blood pressure cuff and the bottle of pills by her nightstand. I stopped, looking for a moment at the family picture on her bed. It was my parents, Grandma Lucy, my sister, Becca, and me, all at the beach in North Carolina. Grandma Lucy was wearing a flowered bathing suit and holding me upside down by my feet. I nearly collapsed into a crying jag looking at it.