Archive: Opinions

As you may recall from last weeks column, my grandmother had just been admitted to Hospice in Binghamton.  My family and I were assisting with her care at her home.  On Monday of this week, Grandma B died at the age of 97.  As a tribute to her I would like to share this conversation I had with her last week.

Grandma B has always been quite a story teller.  She has a real gift to describe events in her life in ways that give them a certain timeless quality.  While giving care for her at her home, my family and I have spent a lot of time by her bedside.  And although Grandma had grown weak physically, her mind remained sharp as ever.  It seemed that most of her waking hours were spent in life review recalling event in her life and reminiscing about her many adventures. 

The other day, I was with Grandma at her home.  I had just given her a small dose of morphine sulfate to ease some difficulty she had been experiencing with her breathing. The morphine also helps to decrease some of the anxiety that often comes at end of life.  For those who might be wondering, this was prescription not recreational morphine. 

An hour or so later, I checked in on Grandma.  She was awake in her bed.  She raised her hand and gave me a wave.  I entered her room, sat down on the bed, and took her hand into mine.  There was a moment or two of where neither of us spoke.  Then she told me something I had never heard. 

“Matthew,” she said, “I gave Jesus a new leg.”  She paused for a moment, and looked at me straight in the eye.  I thought to myself, ‘great, I just overdosed my 97 year old grandmother.’ 

“Grandma, what are you talking about?” I asked with a bit of concern.

Grandma went on to explain how she and Grandpa were visiting my aunt and uncle in Germany in the 1970’s.  During their stay, some neighbors invited them to their home for dinner.  On the way into the couple’s apartment, my grandmother noticed a very old crucifix along with other items in a box. 

Sometime during the conversation, Grandma asked the couple about the crucifix she had noticed in the box.  The man said it was broken.  Christ had lost his right leg somewhere along the way, and the man was taking it along with the other items to the dump. 

My Grandma, a woman with a real passion for antiques, knew that the crucifix was old and so she offered to buy it from the man.  She explained to him that she worked in ceramics and clay and would be able to replace the missing leg.  He shook his head and said that he would not sell her the cross, but told her if she could repair the crucifix, then she could have it. 

With Jesus in hand, she turned to Grandpa who said nothing, but whose facial expression clearly indicated that Grandma was going to bring yet another treasure into the all ready filled house on Buckingham Rd. 

So Jesus with just one leg, having been rescued from a certain undignified burial in some Bavarian garbage dump, left his home in Germany and arrived to his new one in Binghamton.  Grandma, true to her word, unpacked Jesus from her suitcase and went to work fashioning a new right leg.  She worked the clay until it matched perfectly, and then mixed various colors and shades until that too matched. It was an incredibly accurate match, and most likely the first time that Jesus has been fitted for a prosthetic leg. 

After she finished her story, I felt a huge sigh of relief knowing that I would not be charged for contributing to the delinquency of a senior citizen.  For nearly 40 years, that crucifix with Jesus and his new leg, has hung on the wall alongside Grandma’s bed watching over her, guiding her and protecting her.  I would love to have a transcript from the conversation between her and Jesus when they meet and discuss the incident of the missing right leg.  I am sure it will contain a phrase with which she always ended any conversation, “Do your best.”  And that is to the point.

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