Not the Pizza Guy

Papa John.  To you it's a pizza chain.  To me he's my grandpa.  (And no, there's no relation.  It would be an added perk to be the heiress to a pizza joint.  But alas, my Papa John doesn't know a thing about pizza).

Earlier this year he turned 93.  He's had a long, full life.  He's been married to the same woman (Grandma Jean) since 1943 (i.e. 67 years ago...).  They have 7 children, 11 grandchildren and 18 great-grandchildren.  He was born in Gay, Georgia, though if he tells you this fact, he's also quick to note "But I'm not gay."  (yes grandpa, I think the 7 children made that clear...).  He grew up in Greenville, GA and was a colonel in the United States Army, proudly serving his country for many years.

The one thing that has been constant in his life is up and down health issues.  Tumors seem to run on my mom's side of the family (I think all 4 of the sisters have had some tumor or another - some cancerous, others not).  He had surgery on his neck years ago to remove a tumor and has had some other health problems along the way.  He and my grandmother lived in Florida when I was little, but about 5 years ago he wasn't doing too well and he and my grandma moved to LaGrange, GA to be closer to family (my mom and one of my aunts lived in Atlanta at the time).  After a few years, a sweet woman named Ruby came to their house every day to help out with the daily activities of cooking and cleaning and making sure they were taking their medicine.  But eventually they needed more care.  So about a year ago they moved to an assisted living facility in Marietta, just a few miles from my parents.  My mom now spends a good chunk of her time checking in on them. taking them to doctors appointments and generally just making sure they're taken care of.  It's an arduous, emotionally-taxing job, but she does it with love and selflessness.  She's a great daughter. 

A few years back, when Mr. Cob and I were engaged but not yet married, I remember thinking about how much I really hoped Papa John and my grandmother would be at my wedding.  And they were.  And then when I got pregnant, I hoped they'd get to meet my baby boy, and they have. For 93 he's in decent shape, but no one's days on this earth are limitless.  So I sincerely cherish the time I get to spend with him and my grandmother.  And two weeks ago I unexpectedly spent all Tuesday afternoon with them.

My mom is the emergency contact for my grandparents since she is their only child living in the Atlanta area.  But she and my dad were in California visiting my brother for two weeks.  While she was away she put my aunt in Florida as the main contact, followed by my aunt in Virginia and then me.  So I was surprised when I got a call from the assisted living facility telling me there was a slight emergency.  They weren't able to get in touch with my aunts, and I was next on the calling list.  Papa John had fallen and was pretty badly beat up and needed to go to the hospital.  I immediately shut down my work computer and hoped in my car to meet him at the hospital.  I was worried about my grandmother sitting alone all afternoon so I called my mom's best friend Jaye and sent her to sit with grandma, and Mr. Cob was going to meet me at the hospital.  We were all surprised to find that grandma jean (89 year old grandma jean) hopped in the ambulance at the last minute and rode along with Papa John.  I like to think she wanted to go on an adventure!

Well he did look pretty bad.  He had two black eyes and was quite swollen.  But bless his heart, he had no idea what happened.  He was smiling and joking at first.  I told him that if he'd wanted us to come visit him all he had to do was ask!  That got a good chuckle out of him.  But eventually he started to get agitated.  As anyone his age would who was just left for hours in an ER room.  He kept instructing us to open the door so that they wouldn't forget about him and when we opened it a crack he'd lean over off the hospital bed and push it open wider with his cane.  At one point he was loudly proclaiming that "I fought the war for you people!"  I can't blame him for being annoyed - we were at the hospital for over four hours!  But in the end he was more or less OK.  And I get to file the day away in my memory as one more day that I got to spend with my grandparents.  

I love them very much.  And I hope that Mr. Cob and I grow old together just like my grandparents.  But I think we'll pass on the 7 kids!