Growing Up and Growing Old

When I last wrote I was called away immediately for an emergency at my Grandparents house. It so happens that my Grandfather fell and broke his hip and ended up needing surgery to put a rod and two pins in. To make matters worse it was on his amputated leg :-/ My mother was away visiting my dad in WA state so that left my aunt and I to hold down the fort. Someone needed to stay with my Grandmother at all times due to her having alzheimers. It has been a long week and half, but we managed and all is well. Well, if that is what you call getting old :)

Gramps seems to be doing good, up and moving around, which is awesome. Gram, well, she is not Gram anymore and hasn't been for a long time. Her 'shell' is still Gram, but she, herself left along time ago. It is hard to see her like that. This is a women who use to do so much. She use to bowl, play cards, knit, crochet, drive herself here there and everywhere. Play kickball and football with my youngest cousin and help me when I was a struggling new mom and didn't know which way was up. She would come and feed my daughter and change her and just cuddle her while this over-tired new mom slept. And now, well, if you ask her what she had for lunch five minutes after she ate it, she will tell you something like "well that's ok, we could do something like that out there if you want." Um, yeah, ok. She's here, but she's gone. Alzheimers sucks!

Then there is my Grandfather who would do anything for me, for anyone really, but especially for me. I was (am) his "Queenie" and could do no wrong in his eyes. Even when I was in high school giving my parents a run for their money, I could always go to him. When I got pregnant before I was married, I was scared to death to tell him--but he still loved me, and I still sat pirched high upon that pedistal where I have been since birth. (Did I mention I'm the only Granddaughter in the family?) He would take me to Vermont, just he and I. Or to Westerly for the day. Tell me stories about his past and growing up in New Haven. Being in the Navy. Working at EB. I have heard all these stories a 100 times in my life, but I never stop him, I just let him go on and he smiles. And now, he is frail. In a hospital bed. Weak. But what brings a smile to his face? Seeing his family. Seeing me and the kids come down, even for a little while. He knows this is the last chapter to his novel, you can see it in his eyes. It's a sad, far away look he gets.

Sometimes he doesn't want to eat. We try and coax him with his favorite foods from outside establishments, sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. I don't know if he doesn't want to eat, because he doesn't want to go on, and he doesn't know how to say that. When he was home, before he fell, there were times when he said he wasn't going to take his medicine anymore. My mom and aunt would tell him "oh yes you are!" Why? He is a grown man, it is his life, right? I am a believer in letting everyone lead their own life. Regardless of how old they are. And regardless of what the outcome of their decisions may be. When I am 83 and I decide I no longer want to take medicine, and I am fully aware of the consquences of my decisions I hope that my children respect that decision. Before you go and judge me. Or before you and say "you don't know what it's like to watch someone you love suffer and die." I do. I know oh too well. At my young age (yes 32 is still considered young! lol) I have seen my fair share of death already. I have sat in a hospital room and watched as my uncle died of lukemia after fighting for 6yrs and then there was finally nothing more that could be done. That was one of the most touching times in my life. Our whole family stayed at the hospital for his final days. Yes, days. He was so strong, his heart, it was days until he finally passed. My Nana was still alive and she had to watch her son die. I don't think a mother should ever have to do that, no matter how old the child. Then there was my Nana. She suffered a stroke. She was in the nursing home for months--not knowing who she was or where she was, literally deteriorating right before our very eyes until she died. Both were slow deaths. I also lost another uncle, those circumstances are little more complicated and tragic so I'm not going to write about it here. And then there is my best friends father. He also suffered a stroke and battled for along time. I was honored that the family allowed me in the room for what were some of his final moments. He was like another father to me, as the family is a second family. So, yes, I do know what it is like to watch someone you love suffer and die right before your very eyes. And I am still a believer that it is their life to do with what they will. As hard as it is on us left behind it is harder on the ones who leave us.