christ666's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- More Where I left off, I had just calmed my grandfather down regarding my grandmother's inability to be deligent with her home healthcare. After getting him back on track, we spent the rest of the evening by her side until she was finally admitted to the CCU. We thought it was another admission, and despite what the doctor had told me, I hadn't really felt that a gloomy atmosphere was present and waiting for someone's eventual death. Nobody anticipated the worst. I ended up calling a nurse who I had been friends with (and more than for one particular night) and had her dissect the situation for me, and basically from her tone... the dismal likelyhood of my grandma's survival started to dawn on me. The next couple days, I'd visit her off and on, as well as other family members. She remained in good spirits, saying things like, "Everyone says I'm suppose to be dying, but I feel great." It's different being on the opposite side of the nurses desk. We all watched her urine output like hawks, and my grandfather and my aunts and cousins would rejoice in the 20ml's that would show in her foley bag, but not grasp how ultimately dire that result really was. Her kidney's were failing, she wasn't getting enough oxygen, and little by little, the rest of her organs would fail too. One night, I stayed with her and brought her a sketch pad and some pencils and we spent the evening drawing together. At one point, she broke down and asked God what it was she was supposed to do, what message was he sending. Some people have the comfort of faith upon their final moments, but she wasn't as confident it seemed. At least, at that moment. The next day, the family continued to be at her side. I looked up her chart dressed in my normal clothes, and naturally the staff suggest I not do that to not give the other family members ideas. This is a very logical and sound reasoning and I had no right to reject it, but I wasn't thinking about consequences. One nurse, whom I don't usually work with, demanded I give the chart back to him, which I did after finishing my task. He tried to reason that he had seen people get fired for such actions, to which I replied, "I don't really care right now." The charge nurse later asked me for my time which I rejected, but then spoke with her later. She wanted me to understand that I can look at the results, but just asked that I do it discreetly which I was grateful for. I had seen why I was wrong. To this day, however, I don't give that demanding nurse much of my attention. Childish, I know. We got the help from an IT&S individual to let us use the wireless network so that my aunt from Pennsylvania, who was stationed in Iraq, could share some words with her and so that we could explain the situation. I couldn't imagine her position and feelings of helplessness from being held back from being with her mother during her final days. At one point, Grandma was telling me how she really wanted to see me get married, and with Starla, whom she really adored. It gave me an idea that I shared with the family. My Dad was hesitant for a reason I still don't understand. I assume he thought it would be a lot of trouble to go through, but I reasoned that it was trouble well worth it. He agreed and I called for a chaplain so that Star and I could have a commitment ceremony in my grandmother's room on the unit. The chaplain arrived with prepared words, we shared our hands with my grandma on her hospital bed, and Starla and I committed to each other in front of our family. It made my grandmother smile, but I still don't know if it really made her as happy as she wanted. As if, she would have prefered to have lived long enough to see the actual wedding. I remember falling asleep for a couple hours after the ceremony in the waiting room across from my grandpa, both of us on couches. It was eventually decided that she'd be discharged on home hospice, and it's here where the last week was spent. I don't want to condescend, or trivialize any family member's grief during this time, because I know it was emotionally taxing on everyone... but this was a difficult time, and became one of the hardest few days of my life. We arrived at her house and took out the bed from her room so that we could place a hospital bed that could be better suited for her comfort. We had her situated comfortably and a couple of times she actually came out and visited in the living room, resting on the couch. However, this didn't last longer than a couple days. It was decided with my sister and I bothing working as a nurse and nurse aide respectively, we were going to help care for her at home, with my grandpa and his daughter staying the week. I made clear at the beginning that I would help all I could, but once she passed, I didn't want to be involved. I couldn't stand the idea of watching her be carried off in a bag on a stretcher to the funeral home. During the day, family was flooding in and out the doors. The living room, kitchen, family room, dining room, bathroom, patio... all full of uncles, aunts, cousins, friends, sisters, brothers, all from one side of the state to the other. There was no breathing, there was no stretching. My dad was, in his way, trying to settle my mother down so that she may focus on her emotions, and when she didn't respond, he gave her a cold brush off. My mom usually tells me these moments where she feels mistreated by my father, so it prompted me to confront my dad and tell him to cut this shit out and take care of mom. He accused me of not having faith in him, to which I replied that I didn't care what he thought. His priorities were my mom, and if he didn't do his job then we would have problems. Days went by, and my grandma's health continued to worsen. We took shifts during the night so that someone would always be by her side in case she woke up startled. I'd bring my gameboy while she slept and tried to keep myself awake and occupied, and at times watched my grandma gasp for air and thinking how different things had changed in a few years. One time she did wake up startled, and it was because I had fallen asleep on her floor, and was out of her line of sight. Didn't sleep on the floor after that. A few hours at a time, I'd switch with Jo and sleep on the couch a few hours. During the day I'd sleep some at home and watch some tv, until my mom would call asking when I'd come back. Talking with more family, all interchanging every few hours. Trying to keep a certain face on, while the inside of me felt depressed and suffocated. The air was thick of mourning and death... she was very noticibly on the decline and that put everyone under a melancholic shroud. One night, Jody, my grandma, and myself all sat in her room talking about different memories from years ago. Me as a kid and spending night making ice coffee on her couch and watching movies and such, her giving me my first haircut and how much she loved me. This was the first and only time I cried. I did so silently, as to not make a scene... but couldn't help the couple tears that welled and eventually fell down my cheeks as she told her stories from a long time ago. I believe it was the same night when the tension ultimately climaxed into a confrontation with my grandfather. He approached Jody and I in the living room while my grandpa's daughter stayed with grandma in the bedroom. He asked why we wouldn't take her back to the hospital to drain the fluid around her lung if she was having such a hard time breathing. Jody tried explaining that this wasn't really considering her comfort as a priority as it would only lead to her pain and eventual relapse back to a hospice bed a day or two later. And this was the moment that he finally spoke his mind about what he thought was wrong with everybody in the house. He yelled that everyone thought that she was going to die, and that there was no hope when in his rational, she could live. God could perform his miracle and she would be healed. We tried relenting to the idea of God deciding it was time for Grandma, to which he screamed that God doesn't kill people, Lucifer does. He asked us if that's what we wanted, to let her die. Jody couldn't restrain her tears and couldn't express how that was the completely opposite of how we all felt for her. She tried to get the words out, "...Of course...we don't..." That was one I yelled at my grandpa to stop yelling and calm down. He said he wouldn't, but I again yelled insistantly that he would because he was upsetting Jody. I made him sit down next to me and I explained to him that we are all here for grandma and for him and that we're all trying to do what's best for her. My grandfather eventually broke down, saying he didn't treat her well, and that she was an amazing woman... and it was clear he didn't want her to go, and I would never blame him for his outburst. I rubbed his shoulder, and told him how grandma loved him for who he was. He didn't seem to follow, but that was when I quoted scripture. I had been reading the bible during my nights with grandma, as she wanted me to read some for her while she rested. One particular scripture stated something to the effect that no one will be judged except by God in heaven. Naturally, I'm not religious. I'm agnostic, and I don't rely on faith at all for strength during a time of sadness. But it was always all but obvious my grandpa was, and so when I said this to him, it made him turn around. He had never expected me to quote anything from the bible, and I didn't have the heart to tell him that it was something I had just read a day before, but it seemed to get his head oriented. He didn't really conclude the conversation, he just went and sat with grandma, and Jody and I kinda caught our breath. I remember sitting with her and holding her hand while feeling a moment of anguish. She quickly pulled her hand away with a concerned and almost accusing look. Apparently I had been squeezing her arm, and this caused some discomfort. I told her I was sorry, I accidently hurt her. I tried to grab her hand, but she didn't let me. It was a very awkward moment, and I think it sticks with me most. It makes me wonder if her last impression of me wasn't when I listened her tell me stories of my youth, or drawing with her in the hospital room, or even me helping her to the bathroom, but rather a moment where she thought I was trying to inflict pain. I know it's weird and wrong to think about... but I guess it's something I can't help. It eventually became clear that she was on her last stretch, having no more than a day or two. At this point, the anxiety and claustrophobia had gotten to my max and that was when I decided I had to go home for a night. The interactions, the fatigue, the eventual outcome... I had been stretched in every direction and I needed a break. I gave hugs to everyone there, and for some odd reason, it felt like I was leaving for another country. The hugs were long and the comments were akin to "You did a lot of good". I kissed my grandma goodnight and told her I'd be back the next day. I spent my time with Starla and fell asleep pretty early in the evening. The next morning, Starla's phone rang and I heard her conversing with someone. She hung up the phone and told me, "Babe, your grandma passed away." "Okay," I said. I can't remember how long I laid there, whethere it was an hour or just a few minutes. But with everything that had been building to that moment, I had no emotion to display... and so my expression was blank. I eventually called my dad, as my mother wasn't able to talk, and he explained to me that the family had noticed she had stopped breathing, and Jody confirmed that her heart stopped. I acknowledged what he told me, and restated how I didn't want to be involved with the removal of the remains. He said he understood, and that was that. Although, later I noticed a message on my phone from my mother, her trying to tell me that grandma died, but couldn't get through the sentence. We had the funeral, I made a video of her pictures throughout the years to some sad, happy, atmospheric music and later that day laid her to rest in the cemetary. My family felt second rate to my grandpa's family, people who weren't blood related to my grandma, as they got the front row seats and the first in line to pay the respects to her body in the casket. I don't know why, but I wanted to touch my grandma's hand one last time, something that Starla told me I shouldn't do. I did anyway, but immediately pulled my hand away when I found her skin was as hard as marble. I regret this being my last moment of her, before helping carry her to the hearse. On the way to the cemetary, Bryce cracked some zombie jokes that helped lighten the mood. Some would find this morbid and out of taste, but knowing Bryce and knowing my grandma, this was exactly the kind of humor that was needed on such a sad day. I also notice my other grandpa, my grandma's first husband, walking amongst the headstones around the area. I wondered what had been his thoughts and mournings, burying a woman who had been his wife a long time ago... the mother of his four children. I've been to my grandmother's grave two or three times since then. Sometimes I feel I should go more, other times I don't know what the point would be. Perhaps it's just in the off chance that there is an afterlife and she is listening to what we say. I don't know. I guess I don't have much more to say. 4:40 a.m. - 2012-03-05 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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