That B****

Sure, she’s my grandmother, but that doesn't mean she has the right to be a bitch. Every time we go to the care home, all she does is bitch and moan. I know she’s faking it. Faking being sick. Faking her cough just to get some God damn attention. That bitch.

The other day she tells my grandfather over the phone that she is sick and needs special medicine. It’s not just any kind of medicine. Only this specific one will work. Just this one. What the fuck?! The care home is a fucking hospital! How the heck can she not get the medication through the hospital? What the fuck are we paying these people for? That bitch.

My grandfather was actually sick himself that day so he couldn’t enter the care facility. Old people can easily catch diseases and die I guess. It was my duty as the obedient granddaughter to go take her the medicine. To go hunting for this God damn medicine that I don’t even know if it exists or not. Why? Because I love my grandfather. I don’t want him to have to search the planet to find this possibly made-up piece of crap. I don’t want him to get into trouble because he tries to “sneak” in to the care home and risks accidentally killing someone. I say “sneak” because he can barely walk at his age. Yet, against this natural impediment he just has to visit my grandmother every freaken day. He has to. Or else she will start complaining to the nurses more. If he can’t come by the time she wakes up, she suddenly gets all needy and becomes the tyrannical bitch of the whole place. I feel sorry for the staff. That bitch.

Why does my grandfather love this bitch so unconditionally? I don’t know how he fell in love with her. I know, I know. I should be grateful. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t have been born. Yes, yada yada. I have to love her, she’s my grandmother. But does that mean that my grandmother can take my grandfather’s love for granted? Does that mean she can be bossy and get whatever the heck she wants whenever the heck she wants it? That bitch.

Anyway, I got to the care home and put the medicine in my bag and out of sight. I was going to do a little experiment…I went over to my grandmother’s room and pretended that I had come of my own accord and had no idea about the conversation she had had with my grandfather. She said she was grateful that I came to visit her. That I was the most wonderful granddaughter. She began to complain about how my grandfather only cares about himself and doesn’t care about little old her. I wanted to slap her. But other than complaining about the hospital staff, she seemed fine. That bitch.

I went to see my grandmother this morning. She had asked for me. I’m surprised she didn’t ask for my grandfather. When I get there and seat myself near beside her bed
she asks me to hold her hand. I lean over and give grab the feeble hand that could barely lift off on the bed. She looks me long and hard in the eyes and tells me that I’m the best granddaughter in the world. I’m so nice. I take care of her and read to her. And visit her. She wants to give me something, she says. Come visit me tomorrow. She says it’s something very important. Okay, grandmother, I say. I’ll come tomorrow. Then I told her to get some rest. She held my hand for a while longer and looked at me with soft eyes. Then she lay back and fell asleep.

I found out later that she had died after I left. I found out later that she had left me the necklace her mother had given her…………That bitch………