My Grandfather's Surprise Passing
Huh. It was shaping up to be a normal day.
At around 11 AM Wednesday morning, I was doing some cleaning around the house and didn't hear the phone ring. My uncle Roger in Alabama left a message saying that my father should get in touch immediately. We rang him up at work and he called long distance to Roger. It must have been a serious call because before I knew it my dad was rolling up the driveway telling me to get on the Internet and book a plane ticket from Portland to Mobile for today.
At 2 PM, we got the phone call. You know, the one everyone never wants to get. Yea, that one. The one where you pickup and the person on the other end can barely speak and you know it's news no one wants. The news? My grandfather on my father's side of the family died a short time before the call.
Back-story: A decade and a half ago, my grandfather and his wife were living the good life in New England when he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. In the 15 years since, his condition slowly deteriorated until they finally decided to move to Alabama to be close to their son, Roger, my uncle. When I was on my big giant road trip in 2005, I stopped there and spent several days with them and noticed that, indeed, his condition was depressing. He'd talk about his days in WWII over and over. I didn't mind. Half the time he was barely coherent and the whole time I was there, they blamed it on the new mixture of drugs he was prescribed. When I reported home and told my parents of his condition, my dad felt compelled to finally fly out for a visit but it never happened.
Within the last few months, my grandfather had an accident which forced the family to finally allow a military assisted living facility to care for him. For the first time in many decades, husband and wife slept in different rooms separated by many miles. It was an adjustment I can't imagine for a couple who spent their entire lives together.
Then suddenly on Wednesday, it was too late to plan a visit. In the morning, my grandfather took a fall and hit his head. Because of the progression of the Alzheimer's disease, several lobes in his brain were weak and fragile. The fall opened up arteries and he began bleeding internally. He was rushed to a hospital. One of the medics in the ambulance didn't think it was very serious as my grandfather was speaking and carrying on a conversation. However, doctors said the prognosis was grim. They could go in and operate to stop the bleeding but it was incredibly risky and there'd already been significant damage. He'd never be the same. The alternative was to let nature play out, in which case doctors gave him one to two days. He lasted two hours. The conversation he had with the medic in the ambulance could very well have been his final words. I wonder what they were...
When we heard, my dad immediately bought a plane ticket and we're just now getting back from the airport after dropping him off. He should be over Idaho by now in a jet on his way to a Houston layover. He'll be in Mobile in 5 hours and hopefully they'll all be together finally. A trip too late, apparently. But, this was all so very sudden. 24 hours ago, grand-dad was perfectly fine (Aside from advanced Alzheimer's). No one saw this coming. We're all so shocked. This is the second relative in as many weeks; one on each side of the family. Yes, it's a very strange time for us. Very perplexing.
On the ride out to the airport, someone made the comment that, as of my 2005 mega road trip, I was the last of the Oregon relatives to see him alive. I hadn't realized! But right then I had a remembrance- As I drove away that humid November morning in 2005 on my way west across America, I wondered for a moment if I'd ever see my grandparents again. I didn't know the next time I'd be back there, living 2,000 miles away. I promptly forgot about such a sad idea and kept driving. Deep down, I knew I had nothing to worry about. We'll all see each other again someday; somehow.
At around 11 AM Wednesday morning, I was doing some cleaning around the house and didn't hear the phone ring. My uncle Roger in Alabama left a message saying that my father should get in touch immediately. We rang him up at work and he called long distance to Roger. It must have been a serious call because before I knew it my dad was rolling up the driveway telling me to get on the Internet and book a plane ticket from Portland to Mobile for today.
At 2 PM, we got the phone call. You know, the one everyone never wants to get. Yea, that one. The one where you pickup and the person on the other end can barely speak and you know it's news no one wants. The news? My grandfather on my father's side of the family died a short time before the call.
Back-story: A decade and a half ago, my grandfather and his wife were living the good life in New England when he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. In the 15 years since, his condition slowly deteriorated until they finally decided to move to Alabama to be close to their son, Roger, my uncle. When I was on my big giant road trip in 2005, I stopped there and spent several days with them and noticed that, indeed, his condition was depressing. He'd talk about his days in WWII over and over. I didn't mind. Half the time he was barely coherent and the whole time I was there, they blamed it on the new mixture of drugs he was prescribed. When I reported home and told my parents of his condition, my dad felt compelled to finally fly out for a visit but it never happened.
Within the last few months, my grandfather had an accident which forced the family to finally allow a military assisted living facility to care for him. For the first time in many decades, husband and wife slept in different rooms separated by many miles. It was an adjustment I can't imagine for a couple who spent their entire lives together.
Then suddenly on Wednesday, it was too late to plan a visit. In the morning, my grandfather took a fall and hit his head. Because of the progression of the Alzheimer's disease, several lobes in his brain were weak and fragile. The fall opened up arteries and he began bleeding internally. He was rushed to a hospital. One of the medics in the ambulance didn't think it was very serious as my grandfather was speaking and carrying on a conversation. However, doctors said the prognosis was grim. They could go in and operate to stop the bleeding but it was incredibly risky and there'd already been significant damage. He'd never be the same. The alternative was to let nature play out, in which case doctors gave him one to two days. He lasted two hours. The conversation he had with the medic in the ambulance could very well have been his final words. I wonder what they were...
When we heard, my dad immediately bought a plane ticket and we're just now getting back from the airport after dropping him off. He should be over Idaho by now in a jet on his way to a Houston layover. He'll be in Mobile in 5 hours and hopefully they'll all be together finally. A trip too late, apparently. But, this was all so very sudden. 24 hours ago, grand-dad was perfectly fine (Aside from advanced Alzheimer's). No one saw this coming. We're all so shocked. This is the second relative in as many weeks; one on each side of the family. Yes, it's a very strange time for us. Very perplexing.
On the ride out to the airport, someone made the comment that, as of my 2005 mega road trip, I was the last of the Oregon relatives to see him alive. I hadn't realized! But right then I had a remembrance- As I drove away that humid November morning in 2005 on my way west across America, I wondered for a moment if I'd ever see my grandparents again. I didn't know the next time I'd be back there, living 2,000 miles away. I promptly forgot about such a sad idea and kept driving. Deep down, I knew I had nothing to worry about. We'll all see each other again someday; somehow.