the after
One of my grandmothers, my father's mother, is not doing very well. Slowly but surely, her body is beginning to shut down. Apart from dementia and muscular degeneration, she is otherwise healthy, meaning that she doesn't have a terminal illness, or a life-threatening condition, or suffers any sort of serious pain. She is simply old, and together with my family, week after week for the last two years I have been watching how life ebbs and returns in a sort of cycle. In the earlier days she could still walk, bathe herself (with assistance) and feed herself. Then the walking faded. Next was the feeding, then the talking, and now, she mostly just eats (porridge and other soft foods) and sleeps, like a baby. Her muscles are thin and weak. Sometimes I sit at her bed and try to massage moisturiser into her cold feet to help protect her fragile, papery-thin skin from bruising. They don't quite feel like feet, and I try to be as gentle as possible, so that I don't inadvertently bruise her.
The family has been discussing practicalities of what to do 'after'. She lives with her two sons - my father and my uncle - who share the responsibility of looking after her because no one has the time outside work and their personal lives to devote 24/7 care for her. No nursing home for her. My father protects her fiercely and leaves the room everytime my mother and I discuss grandma's condition because he cannot bear to hear the facts, even though he knows them very well in his heart.
Before she started deteriorating, I would sometimes go and visit her at her flat, where she used to live with my aunt. Occasionally I would make her go out to the nearby provision shop with me just so she could take a walk and get some exercise. My grandmother has always been an introvert, she was never one for sitting with the other elderly ladies and gossiping. She never enjoyed going out, or meeting new people. After her grandchildren grew up and left the nest (she raised all of us while our parents were at work), she didn't have much to do and stayed at home most of the time, either watching television or listening to the radio. In a way I think all this free time without an outlet for her energies led to her slow decline.
I think that in the recent months as my grandmother's condition has worsened I have grown to admire my mother for her patience and strength in taking care of her. Even though there is a domestic helper to assist with the chores of caring for my grandmother, there is still a lot to think about - feeding my grandmother, the various loads of laundry (like a new baby, there is sometimes a lot of vomit or pee to deal with), and managing the rest of the household. It must be frustrating, especially because she sacrifices some of her time (especially the weekends) to stay at home just so someone can be around in case anything happens.
Right now, it seems like we are all just waiting for the inevitable. And hoping that when it does, it will happen peacefully, like in slumber, and not in a nasty hospital with tubes and needles and antiseptic. In a sense we have all already lost her, because what we see right now is a shell and a shadow of the woman we knew and loved, but it doesn't make the losing - a process, not a loss - any easier.
The family has been discussing practicalities of what to do 'after'. She lives with her two sons - my father and my uncle - who share the responsibility of looking after her because no one has the time outside work and their personal lives to devote 24/7 care for her. No nursing home for her. My father protects her fiercely and leaves the room everytime my mother and I discuss grandma's condition because he cannot bear to hear the facts, even though he knows them very well in his heart.
Before she started deteriorating, I would sometimes go and visit her at her flat, where she used to live with my aunt. Occasionally I would make her go out to the nearby provision shop with me just so she could take a walk and get some exercise. My grandmother has always been an introvert, she was never one for sitting with the other elderly ladies and gossiping. She never enjoyed going out, or meeting new people. After her grandchildren grew up and left the nest (she raised all of us while our parents were at work), she didn't have much to do and stayed at home most of the time, either watching television or listening to the radio. In a way I think all this free time without an outlet for her energies led to her slow decline.
I think that in the recent months as my grandmother's condition has worsened I have grown to admire my mother for her patience and strength in taking care of her. Even though there is a domestic helper to assist with the chores of caring for my grandmother, there is still a lot to think about - feeding my grandmother, the various loads of laundry (like a new baby, there is sometimes a lot of vomit or pee to deal with), and managing the rest of the household. It must be frustrating, especially because she sacrifices some of her time (especially the weekends) to stay at home just so someone can be around in case anything happens.
Right now, it seems like we are all just waiting for the inevitable. And hoping that when it does, it will happen peacefully, like in slumber, and not in a nasty hospital with tubes and needles and antiseptic. In a sense we have all already lost her, because what we see right now is a shell and a shadow of the woman we knew and loved, but it doesn't make the losing - a process, not a loss - any easier.