(4) Here's to you, Noni

I am writing this blog, in part, as a remembrance of my grandmother, Elisea Pauletto. My dear grandmother, "Noni," passed away in spring of 2007 at the age of 79. Her life was plagued with a series of ailments which brought her in and out of the hospital. She received a quadruple bypass heart surgery among several other surgeries and medical interventions. I do not remember a time in my 18 years of knowing Noni that she did not have some kind of health condition. After the removal of several lymph nodes, she lived with an extremely weak immune system which made her even more susceptible to infections.

Hospital visits became a casual topic of conversation whenever my family visited my grandparents' house. My grandpa, "Papa," made trips to Kaiser Permanente part of his weekly routine. My grandma endured more blood tests, needles, and IVs than any other person I have known. Naturally, she always struggled with maintaining positivity. In fact, her hypochondria and pessimism, I believe, were the stem of many of her health issues. Not to say that my grandmother's ailments were not severe; however, the negativity only reinforced her poor health.

I loved my grandmother very much, and she cared for my sisters and I more than any other people in the world. She was always thrilled to hear our voices on the phone and wanted to know all about our recent activities. She made sure my sisters and I were overly fed--a quality defined by the Italian culture. She spoke of her love for Italy and how badly she wanted me to go back with her one day. She was the person who taught me how to knit and to enjoy the importance of a luscious garden.

I cherished the times in which my grandmother was happy and carefree. It pained me to see how the hospital setting drained her of this euphoria. The cramped rooms and dull atmosphere of the hospital were everything but inviting. When my family and I visited her in the hospital, I tried to be overly happy to compensate for the depressing feeling that lurked through curtained rooms. Nevertheless, her blissful spirit was untraceable at this point.

My grandmother passed away in a disconsolate uneasiness. I believe her time was not exhausted, and she had much more to contribute to my life and the lives of my family members. However, her story ended bleakly.

To this day, I hold the pleasant times with Noni close to me, and try to force the bad times from my memory. I resent the downcast atmosphere of the hospital that she became all-too-familiar with. I believe that my grandmother holds a special place in heaven where she is pain-free and content. For this I am thankful. Nevertheless, I want to improve the hospital settings for current and future patients like my grandmother. I have faith that a few adjustments will go a long way in the lives of many.