When Kindness Kills

I blocked out the gossip and headed straight downstairs to Grandma's ward.

She was getting up there in age, dealing with heart problems, a stroke, and a ton of other health issues. Not long ago, she fell at home and broke her pelvis, so she ended up back in the hospital.

Grandma's face lit up when she saw me walk in with her medications. She asked right away, "Are your mom and dad done with work? I miss them."

I felt a lump in my throat and could only tell her they were tied up with work. She looked down, her face falling with disappointment.

I knew my excuse didn't sound convincing. It was just one floor away, but neither of them had come by since Grandma was admitted.

Grandma's broken pelvis needed surgery, and the longer they delayed it, the worse she felt—especially at night when even getting out of bed was a major struggle.

I asked Mom and Dad if there was anything they could do to help.

Dad got all high and mighty and said, "Your grandma has to wait her turn for surgery. We can't just skip the line. That wouldn't be fair."

But just a few days ago, when it was almost Grandma's turn, a little boy came in with a broken leg, and Mom and Dad let him jump ahead.

They even told Grandma, "He's just a kid. Let's give him priority."

Grandma didn't get what skipping the line meant. She just knew it meant she'd get to see her son. Happy, she nodded and went along with it.

I was furious and tried to argue.

But Dad snapped at me for talking back, "How can you be so thoughtless? It's not the same. That boy has his whole life ahead of him!"

What a load of crap! He'd even told me a bypass surgery was no big deal. He must've thought I was an idiot. Eventually, another doctor said he'd try to move Grandma's surgery up.

Just thinking about it now made me so mad.

Right then, my phone rang. Mom asked me to bring the toiletries upstairs. A glimmer of hope shot through me—maybe Grandma's surgery was finally going to happen.

I told Grandma to hang on and wait.

But when I got upstairs, Mom led me into a ward, and I realized it was all a lie.

She looked down at Alice on the bed with the sweetest expression. "Didn't you say you were keeping an eye on Grandma downstairs? While you're at it, you can keep Alice company, too. She's young, and you two can chat. Plus, you've got the experience, so I'm counting on you to take care of her."

In other words, she wanted me—her daughter, still in my senior year of high school—to play babysitter.

I was hauling around bags of stuff for Grandma's surgery, but Mom acted like she didn't see any of it and kept yammering.

My stomach sank. I looked at Alice, lying on the bed with her lashes fluttering a little, and snapped, "Not my problem."

Then, I turned to leave. But Mom lost it, grabbed my arm, and wouldn't let go. All my frustration came to a head.

I tossed the bags at them and shouted, "She's a total stranger to me—why should I take care of her? And I'm swamped! Don't you remember I'm in my senior year of high school? You're such a selfish mother! You're a doctor, aren't you? If you're so eager, why don't you take care of her yourself?"

Mom was left speechless, her finger shaking as she pointed at me. "How did I end up with a kid who's so heartless?"

Since we were already at each other's throats, I didn't care about keeping up appearances. I pointed right back at her and snapped, "That's bullshit! Want to talk about being heartless? When was the last time either you or Dad checked on Grandma?

"She's stuck in bed, in pain, can't keep anything down, losing weight every day, and I don't see either of you lifting a finger for her!"

Mom was quiet for a moment. After a while, she fired back, "That's different. You can't just leave Alice here by herself. She's still so young!"

I picked up the stuff from the floor and walked out without looking back. "Alice wants you and Dad to be her parents, so it's only fair you two take care of her—unless you've been lying to her this whole time.

"She'll lose it if she finds out the truth. She might even have a heart attack, and that'll be on you! This isn't my problem anymore. I don't need you and Dad as my parents."