Virtute.org

This is an intensely personal subject for me, so this particular entry is not for the casual reader.  I feel an almost therapeutic need to describe my emotions and the events surrounding my grandmother’s death.  There are times when voiced words seem insufficient and bland, when only the written word can satisfy the need to pull out the emotions brimming beneath the surface–this, perhaps is one of those times.

On Friday August 1st at 8:00 AM my mother called me from Tennessee where she had just arrived the night before and told me that my grandmother had what they suspected was a stroke sometime during the night.  My thoughts were immediately turned to the idea that my grandmother was dying.  I remember another time that my grandmother was very sick and in the hospital and I wondered if it could possibly be the end, my thoughts were different this time than they had been before, it was as if I already knew that this was the end.  I knew it inside, but felt the lack of confidence in speaking those words.  So as I went about my day, the words ‘my grandma is dying’ seemed to echo in my head constantly.  I stood in line at the post office and when I looked over at the elderly lady next to me I thought ‘my grandma is dying’ and I started to cry.  At the gym as I peddled on the bike I thought ‘my grandma is dying’ and I cried again. 

 

I called my mom on the way out of the gym and she gave me more information.  She told me that they hadn’t officially confirmed that she had a stroke, but that she could barely move the whole left side of her body and that  the left side of her face was drooping and her speech was slurred.  My mother told me that it was as too long since the suspected stroke to give my grandmother the drugs that could reverse the effects of the stroke.

Later that evening she told me that my grandmother was hysterical and hallucinating.  She was kicking and thrashing and pleading with everyone to help her escape.  She told my uncle on the phone that they had her in some kind of prison with rocks and sticks all over the floor.  They had to restrain her and keep her in the intensive care unit.

Within a day, all of my mother’s siblings were on their way to Tennessee.  She had family there from Utah, California, Colorado, Ohio, and Texas  They spent every moment that they possibly could by her hospital bed.  My grandma had a few lucid moments where she was kind and sweet and said nice things to everyone, but then there’d be other times when she’d ask for things that were not there.  They were wetting her mouth  periodically and she thought they were trying to give her apples and she wanted salt on them.  She said over and over that the salt was right over there, why wouldn’t they give her the salt. 

She was miserable.  She couldn’t get out of bed, her body was so weak and frail.  They had inserted a catheter which she couldn’t stand and continually tried to pull out.  When they resorted to a type of diaper she was mortified and kept asking people to help her out of bed so that she could use the bathroom.

After the hysteria she went through a phase of sleeping almost constantly and snoring very loudly.  It was after almost two days of this sleeping during all the visiting hours that my mother reported that they went into the room and she was very pale and quiet and looked as if she were dead.  Mother commented to her sisters how it looked like her spirit wasn’t even there.  On their next opportunity to go into her room, she was lucid for the first time in days and asked where her mother and father were.  When she was told that they had died many years ago she said "but they were just here, I was just with them and with Kathy."  (Kathy is her first child who drowned at the age of 2).

On Monday night my father called me and told me that my grandmother was dying.  I called my mom as soon as my company left and the kids were in bed.  She explained to me that the family was given the last two pages of my grandmother’s living will which stated that if she could not feed herself, she did not want to be given food or water artificially.  I was sickened at the thought that my grandmother would die slowly of starvation.  I took some comfort in the assurances that the pain medication would relieve her of the pain of starvation and in the story from the preceding paragraph.  The idea that perhaps her spirit was not constantly in her frail and tormented body gave me some peace.

During all this time I had been thinking about my grandmother almost constantly, there were moments where I cried as I thought about my dear grandmother in her hospital bed dying.  I told Zach that I didn’t think I should fly down to see her.  That it wasn’t worth the expense to see her in the state that was described to me.  I didn’t want to have any memories of her thrashing in bed and yelling for help.  Although the thought of her dying plagued my thoughts continually, it seemed trite to talk about it.  In every conversation I had with friends and associates I thought as I talked to them about my grandmother, but I couldn’t voice my sadness.  I felt a lack of energy and enthusiasm for anything.  Fulfilling my menial everyday chores seemed wrong while my grandmother was dying thousands of miles away.  I don’t know how else to describe it other than that I just felt ‘blah.’  I wasted more time than usual just sitting at my computer doing nothing in particular.  For some reason I kept finding myself on facebook adding friends to my list.  As I would sit in my rocking chair holding my three month old baby I would look at her and imagine my grandmother in a similar state.  Unable to control all her movements and unable communicate adequately, but communicating love with her eyes.

Krista and I decided that what we really wanted was to feel the deep emotion of sadness for our beloved grandmother.  So I picked her up on Tuesday and had my older children go to their grandmother’s house while we watched the DVD that our cousin Anthony had made about our grandma’s life.  We cried together and talked about our memories of grandma.  I thought about what a remarkable woman my grandma was and I wished that everyone could know how great she was and I longed for the days that could never be again.  I longed for the time when she was healthy and her mind was clear.  I wished I could sit on her bed with her and listen to her tell stories.   My grandmother was a wonderful story teller and she loved to play games with us.  I miss her.

The next day when I called my mom she was giving my grandma a foot massage and I told her to tell my grandma that I loved her and that we were thinking about her.  My mother said she’d put the phone up to grandma’s ear so I could tell her myself.  I said "I love you grandma.  we’re thinking about you.  Krista and I watched that video that Anthony made and enjoyed talking about our good memories of our grandma."  She slurred something incoherent back to me.  I hadn’t dared ask to speak with her before.  I felt like with all the people that loved her, I didn’t have the right to steal her few precious lucid moments away from them.

I did feel better for a few days after that.  My grandma was moved back to my aunt Dee’s house where Hospice trained the family on how to care for her and provided an increased dosage of pain medication.  I don’t know of any lucid moments once she was moved home.  They tried to keep her well medicated and pain free.  The family gathered around her constantly.  From the early hours of the morning to the late hours of the night there were 12 or more people gathered in her room talking to her and to each other.   They had family prayers each night around her bed.  The cousins who grew up in Tennessee all flew home to be with her and I felt sad that I wasn’t there too.  On Sunday they had a sacrament meeting in her room.  They brought in a keyboard and set up chairs.  There were 34-35 people in attendance.  Later that evening they had a family meeting to discuss plans for her funeral.

I spoke to my mother almost every day.  The hospice people didn’t think she’d make it until Sunday (August 10th).  She’d stop breathing for several minutes periodically, but then she’d take a deep breath and start breathing again.  They kept thinking she was dying.  Sunday was grandpa’s birthday (he died 14 years ago) and we all hop ed she would join him on his birthday, but she didn’t.  There have been sporadic moments throughout this process when I wondered if the right choice was made.  It’s one thing to decide not to prolong life, it’s another to live through the decision.

Today my mom called me just before 2:00 PM and told me that she had a terrible night.  She said that it sounded as if grandma was crying all night and it broke their hearts to think she might be in pain.  Hospice came and increased her doses of pain medication and anti-anxiety medication.  My mother called in the evening to tell me that my grandmother had finally passed.

Through the passing of my grandmother I was reminded many times of how intimately the Savior knows me and is aware of my pain.  There were times I felt comfort in a special way that I knew was the Savior helping with my pain and He blessed my mother and her siblings in many special ways as well.  Prior to grandma’s stroke my mother had been contemplating making the drive to Tennessee to visit her sister (Kris) who was staying with grandma while Dee was on vacation (my grandma lives with my aunt Dee).  That my mother felt prompted to go was a blessing.  Not only did she have a few hours with her mother the night before grandma’s stroke, but she was also there to help Kris through the experience before the rest of the family was able to arrive.  Another blessing was found in the way that all of my mother’s siblings were able to quickly make the trip to Tennessee and stay until the end.  Although we all grieved the time it took for her to pass, it was also a blessing in disguise because it allowed my mother and her siblings to bond in a very special way.  One of her brothers who had not had much contact with the family in many years was able to be there with the family and he bonded more closely with his siblings than perhaps he ever has before.

I haven’t really cried since her death.  I think I feel relieved of the worry for the pain of death.  I know she’s happy now and that she can finally be reunited with loved ones lost many years ago.  I drove to Krista’s after the kids went to bed and we looked at pictures.  We smiled and remembered and we were not sad.  It was good to have someone close by who knew her.

I love my grandma.  I miss her.  I wonder if I would choose a similar death if I was in the same situation.  Zach says we love our lives, but we don’t cling to them.