I was going to attempt my first (and last) photoshop tutorial this morning.

Then, I got a phone call from my Dad.

"They can't wake your Grandpa up."

I immediately left to go be with him and the rest of my family. I wasn't prepared for what I was about to see.

When I entered his bedroom, I saw my Grandpa laying on his side, shirtless. His tongue was swollen to the point that it was hanging out of his mouth. His face was swollen to the point that he was unrecognizable. He was taking short, labored breaths. His hands were purple. His face was turning purple.

911 was called.
Tension among family members erupted.
Angry words were exchanged.
Tears were shed.
So many tears.

"Pulse is low. Between 25-30. Oxygen levels are low. around 60%"

He was taken to the hospital. Pain medication and failing kidneys were the problem. His heart rate came back up, oxygen levels went back to normal and his color came back.

But his face was still swollen. He was still unable to talk or open his eyes.

He was kicking and flailing his arms when I went to see him in the hospital room. "What's wrong with him?" I asked the nurse. "He probably doesn't like the oxygen mask" she said.

I got close to him, put my mouth close to his ears as I struggled to keep it together. "I'm here, Grandpa." I said. I began to rub his face. "I'm here and I love you, Grandpa." His mouth began to move and he began to mumble.

I like to believe he was trying to tell me that he loved me too.

My cousin was in the room with me. We looked at each other. "This is horrible." I said. "I can't bear to see him like this."

"I know." He said.

And then he broke down.

And then I broke down.

I made it back home sometime this evening. My mom called just now to tell me he has a very contagious skin infection and that I should shower with hot water. She also said that they're moving him to ICU. If he makes it through the night, they'll release him to hospice tomorrow and let him come back home to finish the rest of his days.