The end of the line

[tinyjo]

The saddest thing I have done, probably this whole year, but certainly recently was visit my grandparents last weekend for the festive season. Nan and Grandad (my mums parents) are both very frail now. Both coming up on 90 they've had multiple heart attacks / strokes each. They're on enormous cocktails of drugs, about half of which are to counteract the side effects of other drugs. They're both very restricted in what they can eat and drink, and Nan also has a colostomy bag, which she hates. Neither of them are really strong enough to do anything more than just shuffling around the house the minimum necessary amount. They are visited by a nurse twice a week and the neighbours and my aunt do their shopping/library visits and so on. So basically all they do is sit in their chairs in the living room with their dogs and snooze, read a little or watch TV.

As you can imagine, this makes them both pretty depressed. They have both expressed a wish, repeated by my Nan this visit, to just go to sleep and not wake up. They're tired. They don't get anything out of continuing to be here and they feel ready to go. They're waiting to die. I really wish that I could give them that as a Christmas present; let them go. We could all gather and enjoy a lunch with all the family and then perhaps we'd stay and all chat while they slipped away, or perhaps they'd rather go with just each other for company. But they can't make that choice - they're not allowed. I can't give them what they want.

So, that being the case, I find visits to them terribly sad and very depressing. Grandad was in a lot of pain most of the time we were there, due, it turned out, to having taken slightly too much of one of his medicines. Nan was alternating between being worried about him and being cross that he was "spoiling the visit" to the extent that she burst into tears at one point. We chatted desultorily but it's very difficult to find topics; they don't get out to see very much and we didn't want to make them feel too frustrated by talking about all the exciting things we'd been up to. It's hard to see them like this, particularly because they don't look very different on the outside to how they were in their 70s when they were very active and used to bring my cousins to stay with us every year in the summer. We would have fun and go to the beach and all sorts. They would laugh with us and play, in a careful way, and let us walk their dog, who also used to come along. That's how I want to remember them, not like this.

Every year, for the last few years, Mum has said "I don't expect they'll be here next Christmas". When she first started saying it, she was upset, not wanting them to go, but we've got used to the idea, and they've got worse and now, we say it in tones somewhere between resigned and hopeful.

Comments

Such a sad thing

[sidorsky.livejournal.com]

we don't allow our elders to die with dignity (legally). My trip home this past Thanksgiving was all about finances, Dr. directives and wills. My parents at 76 are starting the beginnings of the downward spiral. My Dad looks like he could blow away, rather than the strapping man of yore. Shit. I am now older than they are when I see them in my memories. When did THAT happen?

photographs

[vinaigrettegirl.livejournal.com]

and scents... My closest grandfather died at 102; the other 3 grandparents at ages ranging from 83 to 96. For one grandmother, the smell of her oil paints and turps, or beeswax, or basil oil, coupled with old photos, would really revive her. Roses worked with grandfather. You could, if you get the chance for a return visit, try some ambient scents, the picture albums, and even old music they might have known, to see what might help them. Meeting them in their context is one thing you can do for them.

But it is hard. People do get tired. We have been losing people this year ourselves; I have to say that euthanasia would have robbed them and us of some astonishing opportunities to cope with their deaths, but each of us in the family might have a different take on whether it was in any way "worth it". My late aunt wouldn't have wanted to go any other way than the way she did, prolonged though the process was, but my grandmother certainly didn't want to linger the way she did. But then again, I don't think she had the type of hospice care she should have had; she died some ten years ago and things have changed enormously since then....

[deslea.livejournal.com]

I don't really have any good words to use in response to this, but I wanted you to know I read it and that it kind of struck chords. It sounds, in some respects, like a more protracted and sad version of Nanna's last year, where she wasn't really sick, or even all that frail in her case, but where I think we both kind of knew on some intuitive level that it was coming, though obviously in your case there's a slower and more heartbreaking deterioration. It's a very bittersweet time. {{{{{hugs}}}}}