Rollercoaster

For the second time in the past few months, I feel like I've been on an emotional rollercoaster from a family member being on the brink of death. A few months ago it was my grandpa. My dad posted on Facebook that 'Grandpa was not long for this world.' I remember rushing to the hospital to be able to say goodbye, feeling I've said it, wanting to know he's okay and at least not in pain. We left the hospital a couple of hours later. Then found out grandpa had a blood transfusion, woke up and was being discharged. It's great, I'm totally not upset he didn't die after all, please don't misunderstand me. But, going through those motions was not easy. I guess it never really is. But I feel like now, when I'm still in my own various stages of grieving for Korbin, it's extra hard to go through the process all over again. I feel like my poor heart is being put through the ringer when it really can't handle any more.
And now, this sounds awful, but I feel like I just want it to be clearcut and easy and just go one way or the other for sure. He's fine and will live, we just needed to fix a couple of things. Or, he's not fine and this is it, say goodbye. Well, I said goodbye. And now he's fine. Again, this really is great news. But do I say goodbye again?
And then today. My grandma went into the hospital suddenly a couple of days ago and was placed on life support. At the time the prognosis was good. Just some trouble with her heart, but the doctors saw a fix for it and all seemed okay. Then this morning I got a text saying the meds aren't working and they're taking her off life support, get to the hospital quick as you can to say goodbye. They took her off life support, I went, I stayed for a bit, I cried and said goodbye (really in my head but via a kiss on her forehead). And then we went home for a rest and food, waiting to hear from anyone if the final moment was approaching. Instead, she woke up suddenly, just needs some rehab and will be sent home soon.
I don't know if I can keep saying goodbye and being faked out. It's hard enough knowing (at least you think you know) someone you love is dying and you can't change that. Then to go through those motions and feel the weight of the impending loss. Joke's on me.
Not funny.
Today, the charge nurse explained to us how, even after breathing stops, her heart will continue to beat but just slowly drop off over time. And I instantly thought of Korbin, and was transported to the hospital room where I lay holding him while his heart slowly but surely slowed until it beat no more. All while I kissed him and rubbed his precious little nose. Being in the hospital dealing with death so in my face just brings me right back to losing him all over again, which makes it even harder to go through so repeatedly.
I wasn't even sure I could go to the hospital in the first place. I at first told my cousin, who I was having coffee with this morning when I heard the news, that I'd never been in the room when someone slowly died. But then I stopped myself and remembered Korbin, and just said, 'well no, I can't say that actually.' And that made me cry even more. That was the first time I'd ever experienced that actually. And it was my own son. Sucks, totally sucks.
The rollercoaster ride of possible death, that which we have no control over whatsoever, is rough to say the least. But I am definitely glad my grandparents are okay. It's nice to have a little more time with them.
I got a lotta love to give.