It's not about me

As many of you may have read before, my great grandmother has not been doing well over the past couple of months.  She has been in the Alzheimer's unit of a nursing home in Westbrook since she was released from the hospital weeks ago.  I have gone to see her every chance I have gotten, mostly once a week, sometimes twice.  I wish I lived closer so I could see her more.  Her condition has taken a turn for the worst.  Three weeks ago she was still able to use her walker to get from one place to another and able to sit up in a chair.  Over the past two weeks she has quickly declined.  For the most part she has stopped eating and drinking, taking only a few sips and bites at each meal.  When I have visited I have tried to feed her and get her to drink.  Sometimes she outright refuses, crossing her arms and turning her head away; other times she can't understand to open her mouth and take a bite.  My mother and I have had many conversations about what is fair and what isn't.  The nurses wanted to try putting her on medication that would boost her mood and improve her appetite.  My great grandfather, her husband, who died when I was 3 had a feeding tube and spent the end of his time bed ridden - that was never something she wanted to go through.  We chose not to do the medication because it's only chemically forcing her to do something she clearly doesn't want to do.

I was in to see her twice this week.  I got to spend a couple of hours alone with her on Saturday, I was happy to be able to spend some quality time with her.  I don't know how much of it you can call quality time.  It's so hard to visit with her, the Alzheimer's and dementia have progressed.  Sometimes her sentences make sense and sometimes they don't, mixed up words or words that don't make any sense.  It's so hard to see her laying there in bed helpless to do anything for herself, when her whole life she took pride in her independence.  Just 5 short years ago I told her I was pregnant with my daughter and we sat and had a coherent conversation about it and now there really isn't a conversation.  She lights up when I tell her I love her or give her a kiss, her face brightens when I run my fingers through her hair or rub her back, she always liked that.    It's frustrating for me to see her going through this, to try and talk with her but not all the words make sense, and she knows the words don't always make sense and she gets frustrated.  Three weeks ago we were talking about her getting better and coming home, now we're talking about her coming home to die.

I brought my daughter in with me again on Monday to see her.  Normally Skylar is shy and doesn't want to talk to Gram or touch her, but Monday was different.  We brought in pictures to hang on her bulletin board and took pictures with her.  Skylar climbed right up into bed with her and laid with her, she gave Gram a hug and a kiss; she was so gentle and kind, not shy this time at all.  She was happy to take pictures, for which I am thankful because these will be the last pictures we ever have of her.  When I was 3, not long before my great grandfather passed, a picture was taken of my sister and I in bed with him much the same as Skylar was.  That was the last picture we had of him and my sister and I still cherish it to this day, it's all we have.  I hope since Skylar is older than we were that she will have more memories than I did.  But her memories of my Gram won't be like my memories of my Gram, she started slipping not long after I had Skylar, but we do have some nice pictures of them before she slipped too far.

My reason for writing this is because I woke up in a panic this morning after having a dream that my Gram had passed.  I had hoped I could go back to sleep or to shake it off but I just can't.  I've been nothing but constant sniffles and tears to deep sobs and feeling nauseated since I woke up.  I can't help but to sit here and wonder if she is still alive or if she has passed.  I have thought of calling the nursing home but that thought seems silly to me...I would get a call if she had passed on, right?  I know that she isn't going to get better this time, I know that she's suffering being like this and I don't want her to suffer.  She is so frail, it's like her skin is just draped over her bones, like a sheet being draped over a broken structure.  She is weak and confused, she is scared and I don't like seeing her like this.  I don't want her to die, I don't want to lose her but that is selfish and I have come to terms with the fact that she needs to let go, she needs to be with my Papa.  I couldn't imagine living my life so strong and keeping it together so well for 20 years after my husband died.  She is and was always such a strong woman, so full of life, so hard headed and kind.  I have many, many fond memories of her and I suppose those are what hurt the most.

Even though you know it's time and that it could happen any day now, it sure doesn't make it any easier.  I spend every day wondering if she still there to visit and I spend every visit wondering if this is going to be my last.  I am an emotional wreck because I don't want to miss her but I know that she needs to go.  I don't like this waiting game, I don't like knowing that she's going to pass soon but I don't know when, it's agony.  I have reached peace with the fact that she is not going to get better and that she is slowly dying, but that sure doesn't make it easier.  I plan to visit her again today, after I meet with Lin in Gorham, what if this is my last visit?  What if this is the last time I see her alive?  It's such a gut wrenching, heart breaking feeling; one that sends uncontrollable tears and sobs through my body.  It's a feeling that sends flashbacks of all the memories I have of her.  Sitting where I am now...I wonder why we have funerals.  Maybe after it happens I will feel differently, but right now a funeral almost seems like agony, I say my goodbyes every day I see her; I hope she can understand them, I'm not sure if she remembers them from day to day or even if she remembers who I am, but I know she feels comfortable with me and she knows that I love her.  A funeral almost seems like ripping a scab off a healing wound, can't we just be in peace, why do we have to rip the wound open again?  It's hard to think that soon, when I visit my Papa's grave that I won't just be visiting him, I'll be visiting her too.  I know that it's time and I know that this will and has to happen but why does it hurt so much?

Can I keep it together when I go see her or am I going to be a wreck?  Will she understand?  Is it selfish of me to let my feelings take over rather than staying strong for her?  At 24, I have never had anyone close to me pass away, only my Papa when I was 3 but I didn't understand.  How am I going to explain this to my daughter?  How am I going to tell her that her great great grandmother is no longer with us, that she's gone to Heaven to be with her Papa that she's never met?  How am I going to walk into her house again without completely breaking down?  Am I going to be able to hold it together enough to finish senior project and graduate?  I don't know.  It's not about me, it's about her finding peace.

 What I do know is that I'm going to go see her again today...if she's still here...