no Pain. no Gain.

I probably should become resigned to the reality that I won't be visiting my Nonna in the hospital forever. I guess I'm just not that good with reality.

Besides, she really didn't look all that bad last night. There was no dulling pain to complain of, no gut-wrenching nausea to deal with and - general forgetfulness aside - she was actually quite lucid. Her colour was good. She was talkative. Even the skin on her arms and shoulders looked extra soft and creamy - or far less wrinkled than I would have imagined.

My grandmother's fear of Death is what keeps her alive.

My mom tells me she's been this way as far back as she can remember. Always complaining of pain and more than willing to have her daughter drag her from emergency room to emergency room and specialist to specialist to seek out conditions that do and don't exist. I'm not willing to accept that she's a full-blown hypochondriac or some kind of manipulator, as has been suggested by more judgmental elements of my family. We know there is a sist on her pancreas that is causing much of the pain in her stomach. It's just difficult to separate the pain from the fear of the pain. And with a brain like my Nonna's, fear trumps all.

Last night, I could tell she was scared. I could see it in those blue eyes. She kept asking me if I thought keeping the light on would bother the man in the bed next to her. I said no, but I knew the nurse would close it once my brother and I were gone.

I wish I would have thought of bringing a nightlight. She would have liked that.