As she lay dying...
1) My grandmother is dead. She died February 16th, and I am not very sad about this. It is a mercy she is dead. At the end, she was on so much medication, there was really nothing left of her.
When I got to Kentucky, my mom told me that Nana was restless, and argumentative and refusing to take her morphine. The hospice had finally put a long term morphine patch on her just before I arrived, and it would take up to 2 days for that to kick in. When it did, she pretty much stayed in a drug induced stupor. My father was unable to get time off to care for his mother, and my mom was taking vacation to stay with her. Hospice arranged for a care taker to be there to help my mom, and nurses would stop by to help do the bathing and other things to help make Nana comfortable.
I hated seeing my Nana like that. She was always a modest woman, and to have to have someone care for your every bodily need that was... I was sad for her.
My mom had been sleeping lightly at night so that if Nana needed her (as she frequently would) mom could get to her. When I arrived, I told my mom that I would stay up with Nana so she could get some sleep. I work the night shift and I am used to staying up at night. I would grab my phone and my dad's portable DVD player, set it up in her room and Text message people in California and watch movies with head phones all night. By this time, the patch was starting to take effect, and her personality slowly slipped away. She would wake up and ask for something, only to fall asleep before we could get it for her. She knew I was there. Hospice said her body would start to go cold as the end approached, but Nana was burning hot all the way to her death. On Tuesday, the nurse described some of the signs of impending death. Wednesday I came home from being out with my dad and as I got ready to sit with Nana, I noted she was restless, and her breathing was rattling. I woke my mom up, and we all agreed it wouldn't be much longer. They called my brother and his family. We took turns saying goodbye, and letting he know it was ok to let go.
She held on until Thursday night. We had all sat down for dinner, after my mother got up to check on Nana, and called us all in. It was over. I was glad. There really wasn't anything left of the woman I had known all those years. Her body had broken down to such a degree, she was nothing more than skin hanging off bones. Her personality was consumed by pain and medication.
I called work to let them know that I would be taking bereavement time. The funeral home came to pick up the body, and they were the ones who handled my grandfathers death a few years ago so they knew the family already. As there were 3 other families needing services at the same time, the earliest we could get visitation was Sunday, with the funeral on Monday.
My boss asked me when I would be back to work. I told her probably Friday, as the funeral would not be until Monday, and I would be flying out late Tuesday. Monday was a holiday I wasn't scheduled to work, and Wed and Thurs were my days off. She asked if there was anyway I could take an earlier flight to be back on Tuesday. Buh? I was actually already planning on missing the funeral to pack for the move. I felt bad about it, but my family said not to. I had been there for the most important part, to see her before she died. She would have understood I had to leave. As it was, we would only have a week to vacate the apartment. I just felt it was kinda tacky for her to ask me to give up a day of my entitled bereavement, esp on a day when everyone would be present.
I went to the visitation, and discovered my grandmother had made a lot of friends the short time she had lived in Kentucky. The funeral home was amazing. They had food set out for the families. They remembered Nana and my family from when my grandfather died a couple years ago, and they even sent an arrangement.
This is the first time I've ever been so close to someone as they were dying. On the whole, it went well. My dad took it very well. I know my mom was concerned. But I think for some people, a long illness gives you time to make peace, and come to terms with the dying process. It was still a shock when my mother walked in and said she was dead. I thought immediately that I would never talk to her again. Like an era had passed. That if I ever had any grandkids, they would only know her though my stories, and how sad was that?
When I got to Kentucky, my mom told me that Nana was restless, and argumentative and refusing to take her morphine. The hospice had finally put a long term morphine patch on her just before I arrived, and it would take up to 2 days for that to kick in. When it did, she pretty much stayed in a drug induced stupor. My father was unable to get time off to care for his mother, and my mom was taking vacation to stay with her. Hospice arranged for a care taker to be there to help my mom, and nurses would stop by to help do the bathing and other things to help make Nana comfortable.
I hated seeing my Nana like that. She was always a modest woman, and to have to have someone care for your every bodily need that was... I was sad for her.
My mom had been sleeping lightly at night so that if Nana needed her (as she frequently would) mom could get to her. When I arrived, I told my mom that I would stay up with Nana so she could get some sleep. I work the night shift and I am used to staying up at night. I would grab my phone and my dad's portable DVD player, set it up in her room and Text message people in California and watch movies with head phones all night. By this time, the patch was starting to take effect, and her personality slowly slipped away. She would wake up and ask for something, only to fall asleep before we could get it for her. She knew I was there. Hospice said her body would start to go cold as the end approached, but Nana was burning hot all the way to her death. On Tuesday, the nurse described some of the signs of impending death. Wednesday I came home from being out with my dad and as I got ready to sit with Nana, I noted she was restless, and her breathing was rattling. I woke my mom up, and we all agreed it wouldn't be much longer. They called my brother and his family. We took turns saying goodbye, and letting he know it was ok to let go.
She held on until Thursday night. We had all sat down for dinner, after my mother got up to check on Nana, and called us all in. It was over. I was glad. There really wasn't anything left of the woman I had known all those years. Her body had broken down to such a degree, she was nothing more than skin hanging off bones. Her personality was consumed by pain and medication.
I called work to let them know that I would be taking bereavement time. The funeral home came to pick up the body, and they were the ones who handled my grandfathers death a few years ago so they knew the family already. As there were 3 other families needing services at the same time, the earliest we could get visitation was Sunday, with the funeral on Monday.
My boss asked me when I would be back to work. I told her probably Friday, as the funeral would not be until Monday, and I would be flying out late Tuesday. Monday was a holiday I wasn't scheduled to work, and Wed and Thurs were my days off. She asked if there was anyway I could take an earlier flight to be back on Tuesday. Buh? I was actually already planning on missing the funeral to pack for the move. I felt bad about it, but my family said not to. I had been there for the most important part, to see her before she died. She would have understood I had to leave. As it was, we would only have a week to vacate the apartment. I just felt it was kinda tacky for her to ask me to give up a day of my entitled bereavement, esp on a day when everyone would be present.
I went to the visitation, and discovered my grandmother had made a lot of friends the short time she had lived in Kentucky. The funeral home was amazing. They had food set out for the families. They remembered Nana and my family from when my grandfather died a couple years ago, and they even sent an arrangement.
This is the first time I've ever been so close to someone as they were dying. On the whole, it went well. My dad took it very well. I know my mom was concerned. But I think for some people, a long illness gives you time to make peace, and come to terms with the dying process. It was still a shock when my mother walked in and said she was dead. I thought immediately that I would never talk to her again. Like an era had passed. That if I ever had any grandkids, they would only know her though my stories, and how sad was that?