a birthday and death
Apr. 20th, 2005 10:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cassidyroseToday would have been my grandmother's 77th birthday. She died on August 4th of last year.
Her death is on my mind a lot lately. Not so much her dying, but her actual death.
Did she get the death she wanted? Do any of us?
I know it is often something we have no power over at all. An airplane could crash into the building I am sitting in right now and we could all be toast. Just like that.
However, sometimes we know when we are close to death and choices are made about what our death is going to be like. Where will we die? Who will be with us? How much are we going to fight?
Once my grandmother was diagnosed with stage IV cancer, she tried chemo, hoping to eek out a few more months. She only got a few weeks. Her body rapidly started to shut-down. She moved into hospice care, a decision she had made prior to getting so sick. She was completely no code (requisite for hospice care). She was in a nursing home and was on oxygen to help make her comfortable. She was also on morphine to try to make the excrutiating pain somewhat less so. My mom and aunt did their best to make the nursing home room as friendly and "home-like" as possible. My mom made a nice bulletin board of pictures of the family and cards family and friends had sent. She had a TV which mostly sat on FoodTV for distraction. There were flowers and plants. My mom stayed there all day and only left for a few hours overnight. When it was very close to the end my aunt and I did the same. My grandmother was too sick to tell us if that is what she wanted. I hope it was.
The day before her death she rapidly declined and was in an incredible amount of pain. We did our best to make her comfortable. I wish I had had the words to ask her or talk to her about how she felt about dying. I didn't know what or how to say it and I regret that. She knew she was dying. We did talk about that some, but she was mostly stoic and silent. That night we, my aunt, my mom, and I, stayed in her room with her all night. I sat in a chair next to her bed, listening to her labored and slow breathing terrified she was going to die while I was watching her. I didn't know what was going to happen, or how, or how I would react or what to do. She continued to breath through the night, slowly slipping further and further from us.
I went back to my parents' house (about a half mile from the nursing home) with my aunt very early in the morning to sleep some. My mom stayed in the room with my grandmother. I walked back to the nursing home sometime around 10am. My mom, uncle, and grandfather were there. My mom said my grandmother's breathing was becoming more slow and erratic. I told my grandmother I loved her and she should try to rest. A CNA came in to take my grandmother's vitals. Everyone left the room but me. The CNA put the blood pressure cuff on my grandmother's arm and she screamed a deep, painful scream. I told her it was OK. Then she stopped breathing. The CNA and I looked at each other and waited a moment and decided that yes, she had really died. She said she would go get a nurse to declare it. I looked out the room into the hallway and indicated to my mom that it was over. Bammie, my grandmother, had died.
Was it the death she wanted?
I'll never know.
All I know is that today, on her birthday, it is on my mind. What is also on my mind is that there will be no birthday phone calls to make, no dread carrot cake to eat with her (her favorite), and no family lunch. Death is like that. It is marked by an instant, but its presence is palpable for years.
Her death is on my mind a lot lately. Not so much her dying, but her actual death.
Did she get the death she wanted? Do any of us?
I know it is often something we have no power over at all. An airplane could crash into the building I am sitting in right now and we could all be toast. Just like that.
However, sometimes we know when we are close to death and choices are made about what our death is going to be like. Where will we die? Who will be with us? How much are we going to fight?
Once my grandmother was diagnosed with stage IV cancer, she tried chemo, hoping to eek out a few more months. She only got a few weeks. Her body rapidly started to shut-down. She moved into hospice care, a decision she had made prior to getting so sick. She was completely no code (requisite for hospice care). She was in a nursing home and was on oxygen to help make her comfortable. She was also on morphine to try to make the excrutiating pain somewhat less so. My mom and aunt did their best to make the nursing home room as friendly and "home-like" as possible. My mom made a nice bulletin board of pictures of the family and cards family and friends had sent. She had a TV which mostly sat on FoodTV for distraction. There were flowers and plants. My mom stayed there all day and only left for a few hours overnight. When it was very close to the end my aunt and I did the same. My grandmother was too sick to tell us if that is what she wanted. I hope it was.
The day before her death she rapidly declined and was in an incredible amount of pain. We did our best to make her comfortable. I wish I had had the words to ask her or talk to her about how she felt about dying. I didn't know what or how to say it and I regret that. She knew she was dying. We did talk about that some, but she was mostly stoic and silent. That night we, my aunt, my mom, and I, stayed in her room with her all night. I sat in a chair next to her bed, listening to her labored and slow breathing terrified she was going to die while I was watching her. I didn't know what was going to happen, or how, or how I would react or what to do. She continued to breath through the night, slowly slipping further and further from us.
I went back to my parents' house (about a half mile from the nursing home) with my aunt very early in the morning to sleep some. My mom stayed in the room with my grandmother. I walked back to the nursing home sometime around 10am. My mom, uncle, and grandfather were there. My mom said my grandmother's breathing was becoming more slow and erratic. I told my grandmother I loved her and she should try to rest. A CNA came in to take my grandmother's vitals. Everyone left the room but me. The CNA put the blood pressure cuff on my grandmother's arm and she screamed a deep, painful scream. I told her it was OK. Then she stopped breathing. The CNA and I looked at each other and waited a moment and decided that yes, she had really died. She said she would go get a nurse to declare it. I looked out the room into the hallway and indicated to my mom that it was over. Bammie, my grandmother, had died.
Was it the death she wanted?
I'll never know.
All I know is that today, on her birthday, it is on my mind. What is also on my mind is that there will be no birthday phone calls to make, no dread carrot cake to eat with her (her favorite), and no family lunch. Death is like that. It is marked by an instant, but its presence is palpable for years.
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(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-20 06:25 pm (UTC)I don't know if Bami got the chance to die as she wished. I don't know. I know that she loved you very much, and that what you did by being there for her, was a very good thing.
She didn't die alone.
It mattered.
It was a very kind thing to do for her.
I remember her watching Food Network when she couldn't eat.
I remember her watching Cops, which you've told me was one of her favorite shows. I always think of her when I see Cops when I'm flipping channels on TV.
I remember her teasing me about my Amsterdam work trip, when I was showing her digital photos on that little Sony laptop. It was a gentle teasing. It felt light-hearted, a bit of kindness in the middle of gathering darkness. It felt like a blessing.
I remember her waving goodbye, with a little tired rocking motion of her good hand. I knew she was hurting and holding a lot of that inside her. But I knew that she cared deeply about everyone there.
She will always be in my heart. Thank you for sharing Bami with me,
(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-20 10:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-20 11:15 pm (UTC)The first couple of birthdays my grandparents had after they died were really hard for me, too. I kept feeling like I should be getting presents. Hang in there, and hold on to the memories of the birthdays you had together.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-21 12:13 am (UTC)