My grandma is on a ventilator in the ICU. She's 71. Or 72. Doesn't matter. She's not old.

A week ago Sunday she had the family over for dinner, cooked a huge meal, it was great. She didn't fight us on cleaning up because she said her leg hurt, she thought she was bit by a spider two days before. She was going to go to the doctor the next day, which she did. Everything was fine, they said.

Tuesday she couldn't get out of bed and called for an ambulance. Pnemonia. A week in the hospital, maybe less depending on how fast she responds. Much worse by Thursday. Saturday brought an improvement and my sister was here to visit. Looking back, maybe those things weren't a coincidence. After that she got much worse. Put on a breathing machine that made it impossible for her to communicate...but not impossible to try. Which was heart wrenching to watch. Some kind of infection, no one knows exactly what. No one thinks it is related to the possible insect bite, which is healed anyway. Whatever it is, it is not responding to any treatments or meds. She does not want to be kept alive artificially, but there is a chance that going on a ventilator could allow her body enough rest to heal. That is the only other option. Any time off of the other machine and her blood oxygen drops dramatically. And that machine is not a solution, it is only a temporary treatment to try and move a patient towards improvement and self-healing, which was not happening. Two weeks the doctors recommended. If after that time there is no improvement, it is highly unlikely that will change. And per her wishes, care will be discontinued and she will move from this life into the presence of the Lord.

So for two weeks we watch and wait. We are told she can't hear us and is peaceful. We are told she will be able to rest her body and give it a chance to fight the infection and begin to heal. We are told a lot of things. Mostly to my dad, who relays to us. Based on how long this day has been, two weeks feels incomprehensible. Easter will have been over a week. It will be halfway into a different month.

I love God and trust Him and know He works all things for good for those who love Him. I know where she is going and I have no worries about that - my own mother prayed with her when she accepted Christ, and her actions have reflected His love in many small, but meaningful ways. I pray that He will either call her home quickly or let her recover quickly. But I accept that He may have a different plan, despite my pleas. Something more important to teach me, my family, her siblings....only God knows. But still I plead for her recovery or homecoming to come quickly. And I am still sad that I may have had all the time on this earth I'm getting with my grandma and just don't know it yet. If I had known, I would have visited more, taken her to places she would have enjoyed and called more often. Maybe I am also pleading for a second chance at that.