I
have plenty to talk about per my last post and future post ideas, but
for some reason I have a need to write this one first. There’s a chance I
may delete it or make it private after posting it. But I know that deep
down, I have an obligation
to myself to write these thoughts as they swirl around my head
daily.
One
of the bullets in my last post indicated my grandma passed away since I
last blogged. While true, it happened much more recently than many of
my other updates. Last month, my mom and I had a trip planned to visit my
grandparents, who
live in Ohio. My grandma had a nasty fall down her basement
stairs back in July. 13 stairs later and a stroke to blame, she was
admitted to a rehab hospital to heal. She had many bruises, bumps, a
fractured shoulder, and lots of stress on her body.
True to her nature, she took it all in stride with a smile and
patience. My mom and her brother traveled out there to visit frequently
to check in on my grandpa and visit my grandma. Generally, she was
healing as expected. Of course there were a few complications.
What we thought was a bad reaction to some antibiotics for a cut on her
leg, turned out to be an infection to her colon. For a few weeks, Grandma was extremely sick and unable to eat
or sleep. Luckily, it passed and many of
us didn’t think much more about it. There was one weekend in September
that we thought she would be released soon; her color, attitude, and
mobility were all doing so well!
In late September, we
got another call from the rehab hospital letting us know that she was
sick again, the same way she was earlier in the year. However, this
time, it was worse. I remember having a conversation with my dad where
we both questioned in the
hospital’s cleanliness and why she was getting sick so much. My mom and
I decided to make a trip out there to investigate what was making my
dear grandma so sick to her stomach. I was ready to whip out my mean
face and urge a transfer. Just as I arranged everything
at work and packed up Leia’s things for a weekend with my dad, we got a
startling phone call.
My
grandma had been admitted to the hospital. She was getting extremely
dehydrated from being so sick. During routine testing, they found that
this “sickness” was the result of a deadly infection, called cdiff. The
infection had been eating
away at her colon. It was at the point where it needed to be removed
for fear that it would kill her. This was especially alarming because of
how weak her heart was. My family made the decision at 8:30pm to drop
everything and drive out to be with her. Please
imagine an overnight drive to Ohio with a year old pitbull in the
backseat of my mom’s new SUV.
We pulled in around 4am where we found
my grandpa asleep. Unsure of what to do, my mom called the hospital
where we learned that Grandma and the doctor decided to have the surgery
as time was not on her side. She survived the surgery and
her heart did great. I think all three of us (and I’m sure Leia, too)
sighed a huge sigh of relief. We all stumbled to bed to catch some sleep
before Grandpa woke up. Morning came too quickly as he started moving
around at 8am. After breakfast, we made a plan
to see her in the Cardiac ICU as my uncle still had another 5 or so
hours on his drive.
I actually can’t remember many of the
details of that day. I can’t tell if it’s because of extreme fatigue or
that I don’t want to remember what happened. I do recall sitting in the
waiting room all day. Only a few people were allowed to
go back at a time. She was still unconscious with a breathing tube and
many, many IV bags. She wasn’t responding to nurses or family. Before I
even went to see her, I felt sick and panicky. Could I really go in
there and see her like that? Thankfully, no one
forced me to go in until I was ready. And even better than that, my
grandpa got her to respond to him after a few hours. I remember going
into her room and her nodding and shaking her head to my voice. At one
point she squeezed my fingers. I told her some stories and told her that we needed to play our favorite card game while I was in town. I remember she nodded her head and I swear I thought I saw her lips move into a tiny smile. While things were
bleak, I think we all left that night with a little bit of hope that
she was starting to respond to us and the nurses. I could just feel that
she was glad to have us there, especially my mom.
I do remember falling asleep rather
late that night, poor Leia just had too much energy. Actually, I
believe I drifted off playing fetch with her. Oops. I remember seeing
11:30pm on my phone as I cuddled on the couch with her. Around 3am
I heard the house phone ring. Wait, what? Where I am I? Leia jumped up
too. I fumbled with the lamp and realized I was still in the basement at
my grandparents’ house. And the phone rang? Oh no, that cannot be good.
I raced up the stairs to find my mom hanging
up the phone. The hospital called and said my grandma’s blood pressure
was extremely low and that they were planning on giving her a few more
medications to bring it up. Geez, was a phone call to the house at 3am
necessary? I crawled back onto my
couch and settled Leia in. My heart was still beating but fatigue took
me over again…. For 15 minutes. The phone rang again. I didn’t bother
getting off the couch this time. I texted my mom to avoid another silly
trip upstairs. Her response back to me was
“Get dressed.”
The
four of us rushed the hospital. On 4 of the strongest blood pressure
medications, my grandma’s BP was only hovering around 50/30. The nurse didn’t
think she was going to last much longer. What? Didn’t we all leave last
night in good spirits?
Didn’t she squeeze my hand goodnight? How could this happen? We sat
with her from 4am until 1:30pm, where she eventually passed away. For
those 9 hours, we sat and watched her blood pressure slowly drop. We met
with many doctors who told us there was nothing
they could do. Her kidneys shut down and weren’t producing anything.
Her BP kept dropping. At one point around 5am, her heart stopped and I
remembered watching the nurses revive her. Twice. She was responding to
us up until the last hour… moving her head and
hands. It just didn’t seem real at all.
The
sun peaked through the clouds around 1:15pm that afternoon. We were all
there: my parents, uncle, aunt, grandpa…. We watched the monitor drop
to zero. As I even type those words I begin to cry. I don’t think it’s
possible to forget
that screen or the bright, natural sunlight peeking through the blinds.
Was this too much information? Too
personal? It may be. Frankly, I don’t care. I have been struggling
immensely since September 27. I’ve gone through phases of denial, to
extreme sadness, to anger. Everything reminds me of her and it’s
very painful to think that a visit that was supposed to be a “fun” one
with card playing… that turned into a funeral. The most exhausting and
emotional funeral I have ever been a part of. As we picked out caskets,
her dress, prayer cards, I couldn’t stop thinking
that she won’t be here to see me ever get married, have children, see
my house, or be there to talk to. Even today, I need to find a way to
work through the emotion and start to move past the pain and anger.
Who
am I angry at? Well, myself for starters. I didn’t go out to see her
once since she fell back in July. I let work take precedence over my
family. I didn’t get to see her and hug her and hear her voice. Why did I
let myself pass up those
trips out there? I could have gotten to talk to her, maybe even urge a
facility change earlier to prevent the second infection. I don’t think I
can describe what I would do to hear her laugh and to play cards with
her around the kitchen table one last time.
She was so terrible at shuffling the 2 decks of cards we played with. I
am angry at her, too. Why couldn’t she wait for us to get there before
surgery? She had to know that we were mere hours away. Why couldn’t she
just hang on until we got there to say a
proper goodbye? Why does she have to live so far away that I can’t
visit her grave site whenever I want or need? Why?
I’ve
been having nightmares. Well, it’s gotten better the past 2 weeks. I
would see the nurses, the crash cart, but most of all her vitals on the
screen… slowly dropping to zero. I started to avoid sleeping to avoid
having the dreams. I
would wake up in tears and feel sick and I didn’t want that anymore. I
gave up naps and stayed up as late as possible. I thought if I was SO
tired that my body would skip the dreams. This tactic worked for the
most part, but other parts of my life started
to suffer. I started getting too tired to do a good job at work, and I
didn’t have energy to play or walk Leia. So, instead, I started letting
Leia sleep with me each night. Before, she was only allowed to on
weekends or special circumstances. But now, when
I wake up from a bad dream, she is always there to lick my tears away
and cuddle with me. I’m not resisting the dreams anymore and they still
happen a couple nights a week.
As
the holidays approach, I fear how I will handle it. I will feel
perfectly fine one day but then hear a song on the radio, see an angel
ornament, or see her picture and feel very sad. How will Thanksgiving
and Christmas go without her?
How will it feel not to get a Christmas stocking full of silly
Walgreens gifts? How will it feel not to address a Christmas card to
her? How will it feel to hear Silent Night, the one Christmas song that
would make her cry? Right now, I am pushing those feelings
aside as I still struggle with denial and anger. I can only hope by the
holidays I have entered acceptance. Acceptance that all of her
discomfort is gone and that she is reunited with her mother. Acceptance
that she is looking down on us and sending us all
of her love.
Acceptance that even though I didn’t
go out to see her enough, she still loves me. Because I think that
is what I struggle with the most.
Rest in Eternal Peace, Grandma Dot. I love you.
