When I was around seven years old, my great-great grandmother on my mom’s side died of Alzheimer's. It was hard for me to grasp because Mamaw Winnie would always ask to be reminded where she was. When she started to get really bad, my great grandmother and her children all worked together to try to help her. My great grandma, Grandma Delores, lived with her and her kids, my great aunts and uncles, would check in on a regular biases. They had holiday celebrations at their house and Mamaw was smiling the whole time. She didn’t know all the details, but she knew her family who loves her was there with her and we are going to have a great time. Right now, my Grandma Delores and Mamaw Pam are living together. Grandma used to live in “The Village” our towns assisted living facility, but it was pretty expensive. After one of her closest friends passed, she didn’t want to stay any longer. Grandma suffers from Asthma has undergone many surgeries and close calls. Now than she is living with Mamaw, the family feels better for her safety because she is no longer alone, but Mamaw has hepatitis and has had a few falls. Grandma is in her late-seventies and Mamaw is in her early-sixties. Mamaw works from home and Grandma has been retired for as long as I can remember. They work to help each other in whatever way is needed and have my mom’s number on speed dial when they need extra assistance. This past Christmas break, Grandma had trouble breathing and woke up in the night because she could't breathe. She was rushed to the hospital and stayed there for about a week. We were all beginning to prepare for her to not make it to New Year’s Eve. After she promised to use her oxygen machine the minute she notices breathing problems, she was released. She has a machine by her bed and now has one by her favorite chair. She HATES using it when guests are around, but she knows it’s important. It is always in the back of our mind that Grandma’s next family gathering could be her last. Because of this, everyone tries extra hard to make it to celebrations. I have quite a few family members who drive several hours in hopes that if it is the last holiday, they will be able to enjoy it with her.
It is always difficult to manage life when you have a family member or close relative go through a medical/ health decline due to a sickness/ illness. My grandparents are pretty healthy for their age but my grandma does have some physical problems. She has a challenging time walking sometimes around the house and she has fallen a couple of times too. She is only in her sixties and she has worked ever since she was 12 I believe. She is a hard worker and she loves spending time with her family. There is not a primary sickness that runs I their family as far as I know but she is constantly worried and stressed out about family issues and how she will take care of her mentally disabled daughter. I remind her that it is not good for her health to continually stress out but she does anyway. She attempts to hide her stress from the family by putting on a strong-willed mask of independence and "being ok". I believe that she is trying to not to worry so much anymore.
When I was about four years old, my great-grandmother and great-grandfather owned a house right by the water on Lake Eufaula. My great-grandmother, whom we called GG, had Alzheimer’s and dementia that was developing but hadn’t reached a critical point yet, so my grandmother moved in to help. My great-grandfather passed away about a year later but I don’t remember what it was from. After his passing my grandmother moved herself and GG into town and got a nice little house with a pool and a cellar. They lived happily for a few years but one day when my cousin and I were sitting in the guest room playing games while my grandmother was at work we heard a faint knocking. We didn’t know what it was so we got up to investigate, what we found was probably one of the most heart breaking things we had ever seen. Keep in mind I was about ten at the time. We opened the door to my GG’s room to find her lying on the floor opening and closing a cabinet door to get our attention. We helped her stand and get to a chair in the living room. We contemplated calling my grandmother’s work but GG asked us not to assuring us that she was fine. When my grandmother got home from work we had to tell her what had happened but it was too late for us to take GG to the hospital to see if it was a stroke or not. For a while after that incident nothing bad had happened but my grandmother did get a hospice type worker to come watch GG while my grandmother was at work. When I was in sixth grade, my grandmother moved to Okemah so my dad could help take care of GG. We moved into a 4 bedroom house with a mother-in-law suite so we would have room for all of us and the stuff needed to take care of GG. Within the year my GG had gotten to the point of having to sleep in a hospital bed and have daily care and help to do the unmentionables. After having to get a hospital bed things just went downhill in a hurry. Her last days with us were very peaceful, she didn’t suffer at all. She just lay in bed with no pain, thank God. The day she passed the family had gathered in her room to sing and pray. The last thing anyone saw of her was the smile that she left us with.
Your great grandmother seemed like a compassionate and family-loving person. My Nana K was one of those people. I remember being around the age of 7 and I would spend countless hours outside with her tending to her animals. She loved her animals and her two dogs. Then in 2003 she had a stroke I believe and she begin to form high levels of anxiety and she started to become more apprehensive as days passed by. I hated it for her and at the time I did not understand what was happening. But now that I look back I see that aging caused her mental and emotional state to decrease. She passed away when I was 8 and her "out stretching hands" that she gave to even strangers was the most memorable trait that she had when she passed.
She was a very family-loving person and always made sure that her children and grandchildren would always get a long. She was a very religious person too, my father tells me that she was one of the strongest "prayer warriors" he knew. As she aged she seemed to keep hold of her relationships very well and always encouraged love and compassion in her family. We would always have big family get-togethers on holidays and birthdays, but now that she has passed it seems that the family didn't take it to well as a whole. It sounds as though you really loved to spend time with your Nana K, I remember how my GG and I would grab a step stool and play Go Fish by her chair and I would sit in the first step of the step stool. I look forward to meeting you and many other honor students and begin my life as an ECU Tiger. Let the intellectual conversations and fun times begin.
The closest experience I can get of old age is my grand-dad. I probably was about 5 or 6 years of age. Strangely the most prominent memory I have of him is is funeral. Unfortunately he had died from prostate cancer. I remember being able to have him chase my cousins and I around my grandparents' house. But in the memories I have, I can remember him saying "you guys are getting too fast. I can't chase you anymore." His daily naps would increase to maybe four times a day and soon he wouldn't really leave the room. His sickness also took a toll on my grandmother both physically, mentally, and emotionally. The extra stress gave her about 2 strokes from what I can remember. She actually hasn't been the same since he died but I think she is now at the "I'm just waiting for the Lord to call me home" stage.
My aunt Mary is in her seventies and she is dealing with some problematic issues herself. When I was younger I went take "visits" to her house and my brother and I would talk to her about school, our interests, and what we liked to do. Those moments I do cherish and I am grateful for. She is still alive but I do not see her very often anymore since she moved away about 5 years ago. Her health isn't getting any better but she always seems to use her faith to get her across the bridges of hardship.
At the youngest I can remember, I recall watching grand mother go from the state of being able to cook and clean her own house, slowly digressing to barely being able to cook, to the state of not being able to leave a chair she kept in her living room. She would have my mother and uncle visit frequently, and eventually have my uncle move in with her. Being at a young age, an age I can not visibly remember, I did not know what was wrong with her, and was always told she was okay, just needing more rest. She lived rather close, so when my mother would go over to visit, my two brothers and I would go with her to visit my grand mother. She would be fed by my uncle, taken to the bathroom with assistance, and went from eating many normal foods to foods mashed up in a blender. As time continued to pass, my grand mother would sleep more, talk less, and have problems remembering conversations. One day, I was told that she had passed from old age. This was the only clear memory I have of ever watching being old take its toll on some one in my younger years, but at the time, I was not affected heavily, as I was told it was "her time" and that it is natural. Now that I am older, I watch my dad's mother, my other grand mother, battle with arthritis and age. As with my mom's mother, I knew nothing of how age could affect someone, now as to with my dad's mother, I am clearly aware that age is painful.
My nana (dad's mom) and papa (dad's dad) has always been a part of my life. There has never been a moment that I was not with them and them with me. My mom's parents died before I was born, but my mom has told me stories of them. My mom really never knew her mother- she abandoned her and her siblings at a very young age. My mom adored and loved her father. She had a very close-knit relationship with him and she grew very attached to him. As time took its toll he gradually became ill and there could of possibly been cancer and arthritis that led to his physical and mental states declining and becoming very fragile things. Soon he was not like how he used to be in his younger years. Hearing and sight seems to decline and worsen before anything else. He passed away and my mom and my dad had my brother and I. I wish I could of got to know him, my mom still talks about to this day.
Grannie Taylor lived to be 104 years old (you can read an article about her here: http://www.duncanbanner.com/news/local_news/oma-taylor-marks-th-birthday/article_aa098801-9703-5b67-89ae-320b78ab48c2.html ). She was an outspoken woman who believed in hard work and held a strict set of moral values. She lived by herself in her home just outside of Comanche, OK even at 104 years of age. A nurse did stop by once a day to check up on her, but other than that my grannie took care of herself. Some time after her birthday, she took a nasty fall and broke her hip. She required a full hip replacement and extensive physical therapy. Her doctors insisted she needed to be put in a nursing home due to the complications of a hip replacement and her age. Grannie Taylor fought the idea fiercely, but in the end her children followed the doctors' advice. She lost her spunk in the nursing home; within just a few months of being transferred there, she passed away. I have believed to this day that the loss of her independence and, ultimately, her happiness led to her death.
I have read in Being Mortal that usually when a person is put into a nursing home it is pushed and encouraged by the family almost every time. It's crazy to think that- thinking that the family would take their loved one into their own home. But this is not the case. Many elderly people nowadays lose their independence because of their distaste for their nursing new or more likely said because of certain freedoms being taken away because they are living in a nursing home. Its sad but true. I hate to admit it but I have seen this occur every so often as a nursing aid. Your grannie is an inspiration and seems to be rooted in healthy habits and life choices due to the fact that she lived to be over a hundred years-old!!!!! I hope I live that long. Thank you for sharing.
I, like you Sidney, have an incredible Granny. My story is a bit different, but I definitely see your point. My Granny is relatively healthy and lives with my Poppy. She is also very active. She has a glass eye from a tumor when she was a child. Four years ago my Granny experience blurred vision in her one good eye. After an emergency visit to the doctor we were told she had a detached retina. Basically her vision could be lost if it was not surgically corrected. After several surgeries, her vision is better but has left her with little independence. She can no longer do simple tasks such as writing, driving, and sewing. Sewing was one of her beloved hobbies but now she has a difficult time threading a needle. I can see the change in my Granny from being a vibrant, active person to having the difficulties of old age slowly seep into her everyday tasks.
My Papa has always been a hard working man. From an extremely young age him and his brothers were farming their families land on Asher, and hunting rabbits and squirrels. From the stories he's told me they rarely ever stayed in the house. There was always work to be done, and they made sure that it was completed every day. As he got older he continued doing physical labor when he worked for the county, and he also continued farming. He had a massive garden for most of my childhood. I remember running up and down the rows of corn and it seemed endless. Fresh water melon was always popular among our family and friends, and my Papa grew them like nobody else. A few years ago my Papa became very sick, and him being the stubborn man he is he waited until he could barely function to go to the hospital. He received terrible new on that visit; the doctor diagnosed him with COPD. COPD is a condition which depletes the lungs, unfortunately it can not be cured. I watched my Papa go from an active old man to basically being stuck in his recliner every day. It took a great toll on him, and it still does to this day. Thankfully he is still with us today, but he has to be on oxygen 24/7, and struggles doing the smallest of tasks. Seeing him in the shape he is today is extremely difficult for me and the rest of my family, but still having him with us is a small consolation.
That is fortunate that you still have your papa. I still have my papa too and fortunately he is able to do yard work and take daily drives downtown to see his life-long friends. He has a stubborn spirit too. So it makes me wonder how long it will take him to check his own personal health when the time comes. I bet it must be difficult for you and your family. Sorry to hear that, but at least you still have your papa and I am happy for that.
Last year my aunt Barbara passed away because of her rheumatoid arthritis and of her fall that caused her hip to be broken. Before then my grandma saw the signs and the illness taking its course. My grandma felt pity for her and she knew that her time was coming. I believe within a couple of months after Barbara’s accident she stayed at the hospital for a week or so and then she began to imagine things and form mental images that are not really there. Age had a little part in this decline, but other reasons such as bodily diseases manifested itself in her life. Personally I never experienced an actual death that was caused by age (except in the nursing home) but I have seen plenty of deaths that was caused by serious diseases and sicknesses.
I grew up only knowing grandparents on my father's side; my great-grandmother and great-grandfather,and my grandfather. My grandfather lived out of town and I saw him very rarely, but my great-grandparents were more easily accessible. My great-grandparents were very old and didn't do much but sit in their chairs and occassionally chat with the family. My great-grandfather died when I was eight, and my great-aunt took care of my great-grandmother afterward. When I was twelve, my grandfather died after a car accident where he had a stroke behind the wheel. Some years later, my great-aunt was diagnosed with bladder cancer. From the time of her diagnosis until her death, though my parents visited her often, I saw her only once. The next time I saw her was her funeral, and I realized why my parents never let me visit her in the hospital. She had gone from a large, plump woman, to a sickly, twig-like skinny one. After her death, my great-grandmother had to be sent to a nursing home because no one else could care for her. She became very depressed, and visiting her was difficult for all of us because of how miserable she was to outlive her husband and two children and live without her family. She lived in the home for about two years before she died of old age. The deaths of my great-aunt and great-grandmother were the most difficult to me because though I only witnessed after-affects of cancer and visited the home only one or two times, the fragility and deterioration of my family was evident and disturbing.
Yes Hannah I have seen this too. Your grandmother reminds me of a certain individual that was dear to me when I was eight she was not technically my relative by blood but I did claim her as my aunt till she passed. She was open and accepting with everyone and appreciated great conversation with anyone. She was the president and vice president of some very well known senior citizen organizations and she loved hiking outdoors and taking nature walks. Then she was diagnosed with leukemia and she then she formed the early stages of a cognitive processing declinations. She never really let any of it get to her. She continued to live her life and do what she loved to do. At the age of 76 she passed away, but fortunately she did with her family.
My grandma died from lung cancer at the age of 75. She had a new lung implanted several years before hand and she had some difficulties accepting the foreign lung. My grandma was a very small person (she was only 4’8”!) so finding a lung small enough was difficult enough as it was. She was not going to give up on a lung that she spend 3 years waiting for. She took a lot of pills and my mom really worried about her. I was still pretty young at the time so I didn’t really understand what was going on. I remember asking my grandma what each pill did and, after listing off three of them, said, “I can’t actually remember what the rest of these do!” Then she laughed and I joined her. Thinking back on it makes me sad because she might have been having memory problems. When she was 73, she was diagnosed with lung cancer. It wasn’t the new lung; it was the old one. By that time, her husband had died and she felt terribly lonely. When she was diagnosed with cancer, we all assumed that she would simply give up. This was not the case. Once she was diagnosed, she seemed to become stronger. She was determined to live her life just like normal. She lived for two more years and had to be hospitalized only once during that time. I remember my mom being angry because my grandma would accept no help or pity. She simply wanted to go on like normal.
I'm sorry for your loss. The memories we have of the ones we lose are joyful yet they depress us afterwards. The will she had is very inspiring. Pride can get in the way of what is best for people but we must respect what they want even when it is not what is best for them. We all have our own lives we are living and our freedom to do as we please is of the utmost importance nowadays.
I would have to say that I most certainly have experienced the troubles of old age and serious illnesses. I have lived with my grandparents now for two years, both being around eighty years old now. I see that they look at life in weeks now rather than years. My grandmother has had numerous surgeries for various reasons and now my grandfather is going through some of the same ones now. I know the routine for them after a surgery and try to help the best I can. I help around the house daily and that work load grows if they are not feeling well. I don't mind helping them because they have helped me so much. My grandmother has fallen once but did not break anything. She takes too many pills for me to keep track of, and needs help walking sometimes and can no longer cook every night like she used to. The depression that goes along with them getting older is easy to see. They know that they are slowly dying and lately have gotten closer to religion. Its hard to watch them suffer and not be able to help them. My grandmother currently has seen four doctors for the same stomach problem and none of them can figure out what is wrong with her. Living with my grandparents has opened my eyes to several things and I continue to learn from them everyday.
Yes this is very common and I have read a portion of the book that speaks about how as people or children of the sick and ill try our best to promote safety for them rather than "self choice". I believe that one of the reasons that we feel this way is that we see with our own eyes what we thin is best for our loved ones and/or parents. We don't really leave it to the individual themselves to make the choice but use our own good judgment to do so. This can and has led to depression and loneliness.
I would have to say that I most certainly have experienced the troubles of old age and serious illnesses. I have lived with my grandparents now for two years, both being around eighty years old now. I see that they look at life in weeks now rather than years. My grandmother has had numerous surgeries for various reasons and now my grandfather is going through some of the same ones now. I know the routine for them after a surgery and try to help the best I can. I help around the house daily and that work load grows if they are not feeling well. I don't mind helping them because they have helped me so much. My grandmother has fallen once but did not break anything. She takes too many pills for me to keep track of, and needs help walking sometimes and can no longer cook every night like she used to. The depression that goes along with them getting older is easy to see. They know that they are slowly dying and lately have gotten closer to religion. Its hard to watch them suffer and not be able to help them. My grandmother currently has seen four doctors for the same stomach problem and none of them can figure out what is wrong with her. Living with my grandparents has opened my eyes to several things and I continue to learn from them everyday.
Yes this is very common and I have read a portion of the book that speaks about how as people or children of the sick and ill try our best to promote safety for them rather than "self choice". I believe that one of the reasons that we feel this way is that we see with our own eyes what we thin is best for our loved ones and/or parents. We don't really leave it to the individual themselves to make the choice but use our own good judgment to do so. This can and has led to depression and loneliness.
My grandmother, my mom's mom, lived with us until I was 12. Growing up, my grandma could do anything for us. She used to make us breakfast every morning, do our laundry, help me fix my hair, and so many other things. She had a large stroke in 1993 which took most of her day to day functions, so she moved in with my mom and dad. She gained back almost everything, like walking, talking, etc. Growing up with my grandma was such a blessing, but I most definitely witnessed the difficulties of old age take place. In 2008, my grandma had another large stroke. It took away, once again, her day to day functions and completely wiped out her speech. I went from my grandma taking care of me, to taking care of my grandma everyday. We still let her have her independency, but it was much harder to let her be independent when she needed help with almost everything she did. In 2009, it got too hard for my mom to give my grandma the care she needed anymore, so we put her in a nursing home. Just like the book, it only took a year for my grandma to pass away after being put in the home. My grandma was always full of life and happiness, but once she was put in the home, it was like a light was turned off. Her happiness only came when we were there visiting her. I would never change the opportunities I got to give my grandma adequate care while she was still alive. My experiences of helping her gave me more patience than I would ever have if I would not have gotten the chance to help her.
In 2003, when I was only six years old, my Uncle Jeff went to the hospital. My family wasn’t expecting anything serious, as he was only thirty-five. He was diagnosed with ALS, a disease that attacks nerve cells. He was given a year to live. Soon after, he began to get very weak. Before we knew it, he could no longer move or speak. He lost all muscle mass he had. He had to be fed through a feeding tube, as he couldn’t chew. It was in ways both more and less difficult for me than my family because of my age. In one way, my uncle, who cut my birthday cake for me every year, could no longer move. He was incapable of giving a simple hug to his niece. In another way, I was too young to understand he wouldn’t get better, only worse. My Uncle Jeff did however prove the doctors wrong by living for two years after his diagnosis, dying in 2005. The journey was a long and difficult one for my entire family, but I’ll never forget the fact that through it all, the one thing my uncle didn’t lose was his smile.
When I was much younger, my grandfather had suffered from two strokes, a heart attack, and a severe care accident where he was knocked out of his army-issue boots and thrown about thirty feet down the road. His vocabulary was reduced to “No”, “Yeah”, “Hay” (the name of TWO of their cats), and various curse words. He still functioned at home, but he couldn’t work and he barely got out and into the community. Then, one July, he started feeling worse and worse, and when he went to the doctor’s, he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He lasted a week in the hospital after operations and medicines that I probably couldn’t pronounce now at eighteen, and he died on July 4th. And I was sad about it because he was my family, and I did love him, but I didn’t really cry – I didn’t get emotional when he died. I didn’t really cry when my grandmother died either, and I got to spend about six more years with her, playing card games and spending time with her than I did my grandfather. And since I had known her for so much longer and I had the opportunity to get to know her better, it hurt much more when she finally moved on. She started losing her balance more and more often, and needed more help getting around the house and around town. She quickly became too feeble to even leave the house. She was taken to the hospital with fluid in her lungs and gangrene on her leg. And then she died. Both of them were sudden and sad deaths. - Colin Saner
The point I was long-windedly trying to make was that i'm suprised by my own insensitivity towards the deaths of close family members. Not insensitivity to thier illnesses and their struggle in the decline, but insensitivity about the fact that they had, in fact, died. - Colin Saner
Throughout my childhood I, like Gawande, really didn't pay much attention to deaths or illness around me. Although it was present in people I knew, I still didn't spend much time thinking about these things. Especially not from the perspective of the person in that situation. When I was about 12 or 13, my grandma on my Father’s side of the family passed away. I saw my dad every other weekend and his relatives less often. Usually when there was some sort of family occasion. So I didn’t see her very often. Anyway, when I heard that she had passed away I was very sad and shocked, but it didn’t devastate me. As a kid, it made me sad and I just kept moving forward without putting a whole lot of thought into it. However, within the past two years my dad’s mother was diagnosed with cancer. I have grown up with her for my whole life. I’m very close to her. When I heard she had cancer I was very worried for her health. I thought of the possibility of losing her and what it would be like if she was gone, which I had never had to do before. She went through months of radiation and chemotherapy treatment. It made her very sick, but she is a very strong woman. She beat the cancer in her body. She even still has all of her hair, the treatments only made it slightly thinner. She can drive and live day to day by herself now. I am very proud of her and her ability to overcome cancer. My family is very blessed that my grandma made such a good recovery from her cancer. Since, I have had my perspective widened on situations like this.
As a child, I kind of witnessed serious illness. I knew about being sick, but I never really knew that illness could be something that was not curable until the age of six when my grandfather died, though I never got to witness it straight on. My parents tried to shelter me from knowing things like that could happen to people, especially those I was close to. So, while they were having to witness my grandfather deal with his illness, I was completely unaware. Finally when he passed away, my mother explained to me what had happened to my grandfather. However, since I was so young, I still did not fully grasp what happened. It didn’t truly resonate with me until my freshman year of high school when I watched my great grandmother struggle with the difficulties of old age and serious illness. Since I was older, I completely understood how her arthritis was causing her pain, and how her old age caused her to become weaker. I believe her death was harder to for me to deal with because I was able to understand the process; however, after she passed away, I was able to reflect and understand how her illness and old age caused her to pass, which helped me to eventually come to terms with her death.
I have actually experienced everything imaginable throughout my life. Except death. I have witnessed many different forms of birth and rebirth, while also watching many family members practically decay in front of my eyes. The most vivid example I have of serious illness and the difficulties of old age affecting someone would be my maternal grandmother. From my earliest memories to this very day, I have watchedtime and age take Iits tole on her, from heart attacks and strokes, to muscle loss and a loss of the ability to heal (she has had a broken arm for over a year now, and her bruises never leave). With every day that passes, I see my grandmother look I little older, a little more of an empty shell. She becomes less and less of her old self. Seeing this process has been a real eye opener for me. I have had to witness how temporary our bodies and minds actually are. From seeing my grandmother have a career to sitting in a chair or medical bed day and night, I have seen what age does to people. And this early realization has been a part of the driving force behind my passion to get things done, while I still have the ability to do so.
Ever since I can remember, my great grandparents were never able to be on their own. My grandmother had to live with them to assist them in daily life. My grandmother had to quit her job to cater to their needs. It was very difficult for her, and also very stressful. She cared to them as they slowly began to fade away. When I hear people talk about my great grandparents, they always talk about how outgoing they were, but I knew the two helpless people in their recliners.
I've worked for a home health care since December. During that time I have gone into three different households to work with three different people at varying health stages. The first was a man around 65 that was a war veteran. He was completely confined to a power chair because of severe diabetes and being overweight. Because he had very little family around, I was there to clean some of his incredibly small house, make his lunch, and just be a companion. We would sit and talk while some old western played. One day I showed up to his house and he was gone. What freaked me out was that his power chair was in the middle of the room. Come to find out, he was put in the veterans hospital by his daughter. I haven't heard anything else.
The next two ladies I worked with were over the summer, every week day. I went to one in the mornings and the other in the afternoons. The lady in the morning was the sweetest lady I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. She was a small thing, maybe breaking 100 if wet. Apparently, two years ago, she was perfectly able to do anything she wanted to, like a road trip or a cruise, then she just started going downhill. 80 years of aging finally caught up with her. She is confined to a walker because of double vision. She gets extremely dizzy and has a great fall risk. I cleaned her house all the time. She asked me to do the odd jobs that she couldn't do, like rearrange the linen closet or fix all the gift bags she kept hidden for birthdays. What scared me was during the time I was there, she would have a 'bad day' and not have any energy to do normal tasks. She kept her mind, but her body just got tired.
Now the last lady tugged at my heart. She is barely 40 and had already gone through having 3 brain tumors. She wasn't in good shape at all, but she wasn't bitter about it at all. She was usually a happy. sweet lady. I was there mainly for companionship. She never married and only had a brother that came by every few days. She would get so excited to show me different movies like Smoky the Bandit and The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. It really hurt my heart to see how much the illness had taken from her, even if she seemed more or less okay. These experiences really have shown me how quick life can change. -Lauren Tucker
When I was a junior in high school, my grandma became ill. This was nothing new to my family, because she would become ill from time to time, but this time was different. At first, she was diagnosed with heart disease, which happens to run in my family unfortunately. Then as she stayed in the hospital for a greater length of time her condition digressed to heart failure. Finally, she was moved to a nursing home, where we thought she would be more comfortable, and possibly regain her strength, but to our disappointment she made very little progress. Also, she began to have memory problems due to the medicine she was taking. To make things even worse, the nursing home was two hours from where my family and I live, and with school and sports afterward it became difficult to make the trip to see her as often as I would have liked. All I wanted was for her to watch me play basketball one more time, she really enjoyed cheering her grandchildren on from the sidelines. She never got a chance to watch me play again, due to the distance and her health.
In the first days of January, her health declined even more, and she was taken to the hospital in Norman where she was placed on life support. A few days later she passed away. I know nothing in this life is promised except death, but I wish it wasn’t this way. I miss my Meme more than anything in the world, she was always my biggest fan, no matter what she would support me. I think this is one reason why people believe in God, they want to believe they will see those again, that they have lost. I think it is partly why people have faith, if you don’t have faith, then what is the point of living? Only to die?
I know what it is like to be the youngest child of the youngest children. I never really knew my grandparents. One grandpa was dead before I was born and I barely remember the other. My grandmothers were around for a while longer but one lived a state away and the other was in a nursing and I hated nursing home when I was younger because they scared me to death so I either refused to go or sat outside. When I was younger I hated kids who had “Memaws” and “Papaws” and “Papas” and “Grannies”. Mine were Grandma Bailey and Grandma Newport. Yes, I actually called my grandparents by their last name… But yes their old age made difficulties because it meant I never got to have the grandparents that I really wanted. While that might sound selfish, and it probably is, it’s the only real experience I had with old age. I was too young to understand the real consequences and reasons behind Grandma Newport moving to Texas to live with my uncle or Grandma Bailey moving into the nursing home.
I have witnessed serious illness and old age in my childhood. Talking about it helps, y’know? It was in 2008, so that puts me at twelve. My father had serious terminal illness; cancer in a majority of his internal organs and, most notable, his brain. I remember how our family gathered to hear him speak. I was so chocked to see my elder sisters and my brother all in the same place; more so shocked that Melissa wasn’t trying to off James again. Such children, I swear. We gathered at the dining room table, my father sitting at the head with my mom at his side. Imagine a tall man, 6ft 3 inches, sitting and a woman standing next to him only to just barely be eye level. That’s what I remember most about that day. My mom, at 5ft 1inch, standing next to my dad and being his rock as he told us they had to stop the chemo. I didn’t understand at the time, and I didn’t understand for a time yet, that that was the closest my dad could get to admitting he was going to die. He was aware of his end, but he refused to put it into words. He was proud or maybe afraid, but either way, he was going to face it like he did every problem he encountered: by his own will and with the aid of his family. We tried. Sweet Jesus, I was too young to understand what I was getting myself into, but I tried. He had a brain tumor, and things slowly got worse after he stopped chemo. There’s no way to make this all flowery and easy to swallow for anyone, so I’ll just put it plainly. He forgot. He would have lapses and forget where he was or how to speak. And just like that, he started to prepare for when he couldn’t regain himself. Then it happened. My father, tall and proud, would cry and scream at us to stay away. He couldn’t remember my mom, his wife of 29 years, or his children or even his grandchildren. He was like a lost child in the body of a dying man. The moments of clarity were so few and far between, and then, just a week before his 61st birthday, he went into a coma and we put him in hospice care. My mom was by his bedside at all hours, only leaving when I would take over for her. We read him the bible, and spoke to him. I remember how my family was preparing for the end, but I was too naïve. I actually thought he would somehow pull through. It was like something out of a movie. April 29th I held his hand. I told him that I was there for him and I would read him the tale of Samson for his birthday. And he whispered, so softly, “help me.” I think that’s when I truly acknowledged that this was happening. That my dad would be dying soon, and there was no coming back from this. June 2nd, sometime in the morning, I decided it was time to say what I thought needed to be said. I told him that it was okay to let go, and that I would take care of the family for him. He said “I love you.” His voice was stronger this time, wispy. He died that night, four days before his birthday and not long after I began to read the tale of Sampson to him. It was quiet, gentle, but I didn’t see it. I had to keep my niece and nephew from coming to his room, so I only got to see the involuntary rise and fall of a dead man’s chest and to hold an unresponsive hand. It was numbing, and my already ruined sleep cycle took a worse turn here. I didn’t sleep that night, but then yet I’m no one that truly cared for my dad did. The funeral was quiet. I didn’t cry. I thought it funny, in a melancholic kind of way, that the first time I ride in something remotely resembling a limo would be my father’s funeral. I don’t remember the service, and I can’t tell you what the weather was like. Honestly, the only thing I remember is how my eyes stung and my chest ached. My experience with terminal illness was the kind you don’t forget. It’s burned into my mind and I cannot deny that it haunted me for a few years afterward. I’m better now. I keep his wedding band with me now as well.
When I was about 15, my grandmother was diagnosed with Stage IV lung cancer. She was only given a few weeks to live. At the time, she lived in Illinois and my immediate family lived in Oklahoma. Naturally, we decided to take a small trip to visit her. When we arrived, she had already been moved to a hospice facility. This was my first time ever coming near one, and at the time, I didn't grasp exactly what it meant, as my father tried to spare me from knowing just how little time she really had left. The atmosphere was depressing to say the least, more so than a hospital. It smelled of bleached death, as if they tried to scrub the scent out, but couldn't quite get the job done. The rooms were small and roommates cycled in and out, my grandma said. The food was served in small portions and not high in quality. The whole experience was traumatic for me. Not only did I have to actually watch someone I loved fight through a terminal illness, something I had never seen before, but I had to watch my grandmother suffer due to a lack of adequate treatment. It's still difficult for me to cope with her sickness and death.
Last spring, my grandfather suddenly became ill and was sent to the hospital. After the doctors realized he wasn't doing well and needed to be placed on life support. He didn't have any real illness, at least not one the doctors could figure out. It appeared his body had simply begun giving out on him due to his age. After a few days, the doctors found it best to pull the plug because it was unlikely my grandfather would make it without the support, and even if he did, his quality of life would be so poor to the point where it became almost inhumane to let him keep struggling. It's a strange concept that our bodies are what keep us going for so long, yet they eventually deteriorate and turn on us after so long. Although I know we were never meant to live for the rest of eternity, it can almost cause an existential crisis to meet your own mortality in such a cruel way.
When I was around seven years old, my great-great grandmother on my mom’s side died of Alzheimer's. It was hard for me to grasp because Mamaw Winnie would always ask to be reminded where she was. When she started to get really bad, my great grandmother and her children all worked together to try to help her. My great grandma, Grandma Delores, lived with her and her kids, my great aunts and uncles, would check in on a regular biases. They had holiday celebrations at their house and Mamaw was smiling the whole time. She didn’t know all the details, but she knew her family who loves her was there with her and we are going to have a great time.
ReplyDeleteRight now, my Grandma Delores and Mamaw Pam are living together. Grandma used to live in “The Village” our towns assisted living facility, but it was pretty expensive. After one of her closest friends passed, she didn’t want to stay any longer. Grandma suffers from Asthma has undergone many surgeries and close calls. Now than she is living with Mamaw, the family feels better for her safety because she is no longer alone, but Mamaw has hepatitis and has had a few falls. Grandma is in her late-seventies and Mamaw is in her early-sixties. Mamaw works from home and Grandma has been retired for as long as I can remember. They work to help each other in whatever way is needed and have my mom’s number on speed dial when they need extra assistance. This past Christmas break, Grandma had trouble breathing and woke up in the night because she could't breathe. She was rushed to the hospital and stayed there for about a week. We were all beginning to prepare for her to not make it to New Year’s Eve. After she promised to use her oxygen machine the minute she notices breathing problems, she was released. She has a machine by her bed and now has one by her favorite chair. She HATES using it when guests are around, but she knows it’s important.
It is always in the back of our mind that Grandma’s next family gathering could be her last. Because of this, everyone tries extra hard to make it to celebrations. I have quite a few family members who drive several hours in hopes that if it is the last holiday, they will be able to enjoy it with her.
It is always difficult to manage life when you have a family member or close relative go through a medical/ health decline due to a sickness/ illness. My grandparents are pretty healthy for their age but my grandma does have some physical problems. She has a challenging time walking sometimes around the house and she has fallen a couple of times too. She is only in her sixties and she has worked ever since she was 12 I believe. She is a hard worker and she loves spending time with her family. There is not a primary sickness that runs I their family as far as I know but she is constantly worried and stressed out about family issues and how she will take care of her mentally disabled daughter. I remind her that it is not good for her health to continually stress out but she does anyway. She attempts to hide her stress from the family by putting on a strong-willed mask of independence and "being ok". I believe that she is trying to not to worry so much anymore.
DeleteWhen I was about four years old, my great-grandmother and great-grandfather owned a house right by the water on Lake Eufaula. My great-grandmother, whom we called GG, had Alzheimer’s and dementia that was developing but hadn’t reached a critical point yet, so my grandmother moved in to help. My great-grandfather passed away about a year later but I don’t remember what it was from. After his passing my grandmother moved herself and GG into town and got a nice little house with a pool and a cellar. They lived happily for a few years but one day when my cousin and I were sitting in the guest room playing games while my grandmother was at work we heard a faint knocking. We didn’t know what it was so we got up to investigate, what we found was probably one of the most heart breaking things we had ever seen. Keep in mind I was about ten at the time. We opened the door to my GG’s room to find her lying on the floor opening and closing a cabinet door to get our attention. We helped her stand and get to a chair in the living room. We contemplated calling my grandmother’s work but GG asked us not to assuring us that she was fine. When my grandmother got home from work we had to tell her what had happened but it was too late for us to take GG to the hospital to see if it was a stroke or not. For a while after that incident nothing bad had happened but my grandmother did get a hospice type worker to come watch GG while my grandmother was at work.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was in sixth grade, my grandmother moved to Okemah so my dad could help take care of GG. We moved into a 4 bedroom house with a mother-in-law suite so we would have room for all of us and the stuff needed to take care of GG. Within the year my GG had gotten to the point of having to sleep in a hospital bed and have daily care and help to do the unmentionables. After having to get a hospital bed things just went downhill in a hurry. Her last days with us were very peaceful, she didn’t suffer at all. She just lay in bed with no pain, thank God. The day she passed the family had gathered in her room to sing and pray. The last thing anyone saw of her was the smile that she left us with.
Your great grandmother seemed like a compassionate and family-loving person. My Nana K was one of those people. I remember being around the age of 7 and I would spend countless hours outside with her tending to her animals. She loved her animals and her two dogs. Then in 2003 she had a stroke I believe and she begin to form high levels of anxiety and she started to become more apprehensive as days passed by. I hated it for her and at the time I did not understand what was happening. But now that I look back I see that aging caused her mental and emotional state to decrease. She passed away when I was 8 and her "out stretching hands" that she gave to even strangers was the most memorable trait that she had when she passed.
DeleteShe was a very family-loving person and always made sure that her children and grandchildren would always get a long. She was a very religious person too, my father tells me that she was one of the strongest "prayer warriors" he knew. As she aged she seemed to keep hold of her relationships very well and always encouraged love and compassion in her family. We would always have big family get-togethers on holidays and birthdays, but now that she has passed it seems that the family didn't take it to well as a whole.
DeleteIt sounds as though you really loved to spend time with your Nana K, I remember how my GG and I would grab a step stool and play Go Fish by her chair and I would sit in the first step of the step stool. I look forward to meeting you and many other honor students and begin my life as an ECU Tiger. Let the intellectual conversations and fun times begin.
The closest experience I can get of old age is my grand-dad. I probably was about 5 or 6 years of age. Strangely the most prominent memory I have of him is is funeral. Unfortunately he had died from prostate cancer. I remember being able to have him chase my cousins and I around my grandparents' house. But in the memories I have, I can remember him saying "you guys are getting too fast. I can't chase you anymore." His daily naps would increase to maybe four times a day and soon he wouldn't really leave the room. His sickness also took a toll on my grandmother both physically, mentally, and emotionally. The extra stress gave her about 2 strokes from what I can remember. She actually hasn't been the same since he died but I think she is now at the "I'm just waiting for the Lord to call me home" stage.
ReplyDeleteLashanda Turenne
My aunt Mary is in her seventies and she is dealing with some problematic issues herself. When I was younger I went take "visits" to her house and my brother and I would talk to her about school, our interests, and what we liked to do. Those moments I do cherish and I am grateful for. She is still alive but I do not see her very often anymore since she moved away about 5 years ago. Her health isn't getting any better but she always seems to use her faith to get her across the bridges of hardship.
DeleteAt the youngest I can remember, I recall watching grand mother go from the state of being able to cook and clean her own house, slowly digressing to barely being able to cook, to the state of not being able to leave a chair she kept in her living room. She would have my mother and uncle visit frequently, and eventually have my uncle move in with her. Being at a young age, an age I can not visibly remember, I did not know what was wrong with her, and was always told she was okay, just needing more rest. She lived rather close, so when my mother would go over to visit, my two brothers and I would go with her to visit my grand mother. She would be fed by my uncle, taken to the bathroom with assistance, and went from eating many normal foods to foods mashed up in a blender. As time continued to pass, my grand mother would sleep more, talk less, and have problems remembering conversations. One day, I was told that she had passed from old age. This was the only clear memory I have of ever watching being old take its toll on some one in my younger years, but at the time, I was not affected heavily, as I was told it was "her time" and that it is natural. Now that I am older, I watch my dad's mother, my other grand mother, battle with arthritis and age. As with my mom's mother, I knew nothing of how age could affect someone, now as to with my dad's mother, I am clearly aware that age is painful.
ReplyDelete-Sam Adams
My nana (dad's mom) and papa (dad's dad) has always been a part of my life. There has never been a moment that I was not with them and them with me. My mom's parents died before I was born, but my mom has told me stories of them. My mom really never knew her mother- she abandoned her and her siblings at a very young age. My mom adored and loved her father. She had a very close-knit relationship with him and she grew very attached to him. As time took its toll he gradually became ill and there could of possibly been cancer and arthritis that led to his physical and mental states declining and becoming very fragile things. Soon he was not like how he used to be in his younger years. Hearing and sight seems to decline and worsen before anything else. He passed away and my mom and my dad had my brother and I. I wish I could of got to know him, my mom still talks about to this day.
DeleteGrannie Taylor lived to be 104 years old (you can read an article about her here: http://www.duncanbanner.com/news/local_news/oma-taylor-marks-th-birthday/article_aa098801-9703-5b67-89ae-320b78ab48c2.html ). She was an outspoken woman who believed in hard work and held a strict set of moral values. She lived by herself in her home just outside of Comanche, OK even at 104 years of age. A nurse did stop by once a day to check up on her, but other than that my grannie took care of herself. Some time after her birthday, she took a nasty fall and broke her hip. She required a full hip replacement and extensive physical therapy. Her doctors insisted she needed to be put in a nursing home due to the complications of a hip replacement and her age. Grannie Taylor fought the idea fiercely, but in the end her children followed the doctors' advice. She lost her spunk in the nursing home; within just a few months of being transferred there, she passed away. I have believed to this day that the loss of her independence and, ultimately, her happiness led to her death.
ReplyDeleteI have read in Being Mortal that usually when a person is put into a nursing home it is pushed and encouraged by the family almost every time. It's crazy to think that- thinking that the family would take their loved one into their own home. But this is not the case. Many elderly people nowadays lose their independence because of their distaste for their nursing new or more likely said because of certain freedoms being taken away because they are living in a nursing home. Its sad but true. I hate to admit it but I have seen this occur every so often as a nursing aid. Your grannie is an inspiration and seems to be rooted in healthy habits and life choices due to the fact that she lived to be over a hundred years-old!!!!! I hope I live that long. Thank you for sharing.
DeleteI, like you Sidney, have an incredible Granny. My story is a bit different, but I definitely see your point. My Granny is relatively healthy and lives with my Poppy. She is also very active. She has a glass eye from a tumor when she was a child. Four years ago my Granny experience blurred vision in her one good eye. After an emergency visit to the doctor we were told she had a detached retina. Basically her vision could be lost if it was not surgically corrected. After several surgeries, her vision is better but has left her with little independence. She can no longer do simple tasks such as writing, driving, and sewing. Sewing was one of her beloved hobbies but now she has a difficult time threading a needle. I can see the change in my Granny from being a vibrant, active person to having the difficulties of old age slowly seep into her everyday tasks.
DeleteMy Papa has always been a hard working man. From an extremely young age him and his brothers were farming their families land on Asher, and hunting rabbits and squirrels. From the stories he's told me they rarely ever stayed in the house. There was always work to be done, and they made sure that it was completed every day. As he got older he continued doing physical labor when he worked for the county, and he also continued farming. He had a massive garden for most of my childhood. I remember running up and down the rows of corn and it seemed endless. Fresh water melon was always popular among our family and friends, and my Papa grew them like nobody else. A few years ago my Papa became very sick, and him being the stubborn man he is he waited until he could barely function to go to the hospital. He received terrible new on that visit; the doctor diagnosed him with COPD. COPD is a condition which depletes the lungs, unfortunately it can not be cured. I watched my Papa go from an active old man to basically being stuck in his recliner every day. It took a great toll on him, and it still does to this day. Thankfully he is still with us today, but he has to be on oxygen 24/7, and struggles doing the smallest of tasks. Seeing him in the shape he is today is extremely difficult for me and the rest of my family, but still having him with us is a small consolation.
ReplyDeleteThat is fortunate that you still have your papa. I still have my papa too and fortunately he is able to do yard work and take daily drives downtown to see his life-long friends. He has a stubborn spirit too. So it makes me wonder how long it will take him to check his own personal health when the time comes. I bet it must be difficult for you and your family. Sorry to hear that, but at least you still have your papa and I am happy for that.
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ReplyDeleteLast year my aunt Barbara passed away because of her rheumatoid arthritis and of her fall that caused her hip to be broken. Before then my grandma saw the signs and the illness taking its course. My grandma felt pity for her and she knew that her time was coming. I believe within a couple of months after Barbara’s accident she stayed at the hospital for a week or so and then she began to imagine things and form mental images that are not really there. Age had a little part in this decline, but other reasons such as bodily diseases manifested itself in her life. Personally I never experienced an actual death that was caused by age (except in the nursing home) but I have seen plenty of deaths that was caused by serious diseases and sicknesses.
ReplyDeleteI grew up only knowing grandparents on my father's side; my great-grandmother and great-grandfather,and my grandfather. My grandfather lived out of town and I saw him very rarely, but my great-grandparents were more easily accessible. My great-grandparents were very old and didn't do much but sit in their chairs and occassionally chat with the family. My great-grandfather died when I was eight, and my great-aunt took care of my great-grandmother afterward. When I was twelve, my grandfather died after a car accident where he had a stroke behind the wheel. Some years later, my great-aunt was diagnosed with bladder cancer. From the time of her diagnosis until her death, though my parents visited her often, I saw her only once. The next time I saw her was her funeral, and I realized why my parents never let me visit her in the hospital. She had gone from a large, plump woman, to a sickly, twig-like skinny one. After her death, my great-grandmother had to be sent to a nursing home because no one else could care for her. She became very depressed, and visiting her was difficult for all of us because of how miserable she was to outlive her husband and two children and live without her family. She lived in the home for about two years before she died of old age. The deaths of my great-aunt and great-grandmother were the most difficult to me because though I only witnessed after-affects of cancer and visited the home only one or two times, the fragility and deterioration of my family was evident and disturbing.
ReplyDeleteYes Hannah I have seen this too. Your grandmother reminds me of a certain individual that was dear to me when I was eight she was not technically my relative by blood but I did claim her as my aunt till she passed. She was open and accepting with everyone and appreciated great conversation with anyone. She was the president and vice president of some very well known senior citizen organizations and she loved hiking outdoors and taking nature walks. Then she was diagnosed with leukemia and she then she formed the early stages of a cognitive processing declinations. She never really let any of it get to her. She continued to live her life and do what she loved to do. At the age of 76 she passed away, but fortunately she did with her family.
DeleteMy grandma died from lung cancer at the age of 75. She had a new lung implanted several years before hand and she had some difficulties accepting the foreign lung. My grandma was a very small person (she was only 4’8”!) so finding a lung small enough was difficult enough as it was. She was not going to give up on a lung that she spend 3 years waiting for. She took a lot of pills and my mom really worried about her. I was still pretty young at the time so I didn’t really understand what was going on. I remember asking my grandma what each pill did and, after listing off three of them, said, “I can’t actually remember what the rest of these do!” Then she laughed and I joined her. Thinking back on it makes me sad because she might have been having memory problems. When she was 73, she was diagnosed with lung cancer. It wasn’t the new lung; it was the old one. By that time, her husband had died and she felt terribly lonely. When she was diagnosed with cancer, we all assumed that she would simply give up. This was not the case. Once she was diagnosed, she seemed to become stronger. She was determined to live her life just like normal. She lived for two more years and had to be hospitalized only once during that time. I remember my mom being angry because my grandma would accept no help or pity. She simply wanted to go on like normal.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry for your loss. The memories we have of the ones we lose are joyful yet they depress us afterwards. The will she had is very inspiring. Pride can get in the way of what is best for people but we must respect what they want even when it is not what is best for them. We all have our own lives we are living and our freedom to do as we please is of the utmost importance nowadays.
DeleteI would have to say that I most certainly have experienced the troubles of old age and serious illnesses. I have lived with my grandparents now for two years, both being around eighty years old now. I see that they look at life in weeks now rather than years. My grandmother has had numerous surgeries for various reasons and now my grandfather is going through some of the same ones now. I know the routine for them after a surgery and try to help the best I can. I help around the house daily and that work load grows if they are not feeling well. I don't mind helping them because they have helped me so much. My grandmother has fallen once but did not break anything. She takes too many pills for me to keep track of, and needs help walking sometimes and can no longer cook every night like she used to. The depression that goes along with them getting older is easy to see. They know that they are slowly dying and lately have gotten closer to religion. Its hard to watch them suffer and not be able to help them. My grandmother currently has seen four doctors for the same stomach problem and none of them can figure out what is wrong with her. Living with my grandparents has opened my eyes to several things and I continue to learn from them everyday.
ReplyDeleteYes this is very common and I have read a portion of the book that speaks about how as people or children of the sick and ill try our best to promote safety for them rather than "self choice". I believe that one of the reasons that we feel this way is that we see with our own eyes what we thin is best for our loved ones and/or parents. We don't really leave it to the individual themselves to make the choice but use our own good judgment to do so. This can and has led to depression and loneliness.
DeleteI would have to say that I most certainly have experienced the troubles of old age and serious illnesses. I have lived with my grandparents now for two years, both being around eighty years old now. I see that they look at life in weeks now rather than years. My grandmother has had numerous surgeries for various reasons and now my grandfather is going through some of the same ones now. I know the routine for them after a surgery and try to help the best I can. I help around the house daily and that work load grows if they are not feeling well. I don't mind helping them because they have helped me so much. My grandmother has fallen once but did not break anything. She takes too many pills for me to keep track of, and needs help walking sometimes and can no longer cook every night like she used to. The depression that goes along with them getting older is easy to see. They know that they are slowly dying and lately have gotten closer to religion. Its hard to watch them suffer and not be able to help them. My grandmother currently has seen four doctors for the same stomach problem and none of them can figure out what is wrong with her. Living with my grandparents has opened my eyes to several things and I continue to learn from them everyday.
ReplyDeleteYes this is very common and I have read a portion of the book that speaks about how as people or children of the sick and ill try our best to promote safety for them rather than "self choice". I believe that one of the reasons that we feel this way is that we see with our own eyes what we thin is best for our loved ones and/or parents. We don't really leave it to the individual themselves to make the choice but use our own good judgment to do so. This can and has led to depression and loneliness.
DeleteMy grandmother, my mom's mom, lived with us until I was 12. Growing up, my grandma could do anything for us. She used to make us breakfast every morning, do our laundry, help me fix my hair, and so many other things. She had a large stroke in 1993 which took most of her day to day functions, so she moved in with my mom and dad. She gained back almost everything, like walking, talking, etc. Growing up with my grandma was such a blessing, but I most definitely witnessed the difficulties of old age take place. In 2008, my grandma had another large stroke. It took away, once again, her day to day functions and completely wiped out her speech. I went from my grandma taking care of me, to taking care of my grandma everyday. We still let her have her independency, but it was much harder to let her be independent when she needed help with almost everything she did.
ReplyDeleteIn 2009, it got too hard for my mom to give my grandma the care she needed anymore, so we put her in a nursing home. Just like the book, it only took a year for my grandma to pass away after being put in the home. My grandma was always full of life and happiness, but once she was put in the home, it was like a light was turned off. Her happiness only came when we were there visiting her.
I would never change the opportunities I got to give my grandma adequate care while she was still alive. My experiences of helping her gave me more patience than I would ever have if I would not have gotten the chance to help her.
In 2003, when I was only six years old, my Uncle Jeff went to the hospital. My family wasn’t expecting anything serious, as he was only thirty-five. He was diagnosed with ALS, a disease that attacks nerve cells. He was given a year to live. Soon after, he began to get very weak. Before we knew it, he could no longer move or speak. He lost all muscle mass he had. He had to be fed through a feeding tube, as he couldn’t chew. It was in ways both more and less difficult for me than my family because of my age. In one way, my uncle, who cut my birthday cake for me every year, could no longer move. He was incapable of giving a simple hug to his niece. In another way, I was too young to understand he wouldn’t get better, only worse. My Uncle Jeff did however prove the doctors wrong by living for two years after his diagnosis, dying in 2005. The journey was a long and difficult one for my entire family, but I’ll never forget the fact that through it all, the one thing my uncle didn’t lose was his smile.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was much younger, my grandfather had suffered from two strokes, a heart attack, and a severe care accident where he was knocked out of his army-issue boots and thrown about thirty feet down the road. His vocabulary was reduced to “No”, “Yeah”, “Hay” (the name of TWO of their cats), and various curse words. He still functioned at home, but he couldn’t work and he barely got out and into the community. Then, one July, he started feeling worse and worse, and when he went to the doctor’s, he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He lasted a week in the hospital after operations and medicines that I probably couldn’t pronounce now at eighteen, and he died on July 4th. And I was sad about it because he was my family, and I did love him, but I didn’t really cry – I didn’t get emotional when he died.
ReplyDeleteI didn’t really cry when my grandmother died either, and I got to spend about six more years with her, playing card games and spending time with her than I did my grandfather. And since I had known her for so much longer and I had the opportunity to get to know her better, it hurt much more when she finally moved on. She started losing her balance more and more often, and needed more help getting around the house and around town. She quickly became too feeble to even leave the house. She was taken to the hospital with fluid in her lungs and gangrene on her leg. And then she died. Both of them were sudden and sad deaths.
- Colin Saner
The point I was long-windedly trying to make was that i'm suprised by my own insensitivity towards the deaths of close family members. Not insensitivity to thier illnesses and their struggle in the decline, but insensitivity about the fact that they had, in fact, died. - Colin Saner
ReplyDeleteThroughout my childhood I, like Gawande, really didn't pay much attention to deaths or illness around me. Although it was present in people I knew, I still didn't spend much time thinking about these things. Especially not from the perspective of the person in that situation. When I was about 12 or 13, my grandma on my Father’s side of the family passed away. I saw my dad every other weekend and his relatives less often. Usually when there was some sort of family occasion. So I didn’t see her very often. Anyway, when I heard that she had passed away I was very sad and shocked, but it didn’t devastate me. As a kid, it made me sad and I just kept moving forward without putting a whole lot of thought into it.
ReplyDeleteHowever, within the past two years my dad’s mother was diagnosed with cancer. I have grown up with her for my whole life. I’m very close to her. When I heard she had cancer I was very worried for her health. I thought of the possibility of losing her and what it would be like if she was gone, which I had never had to do before. She went through months of radiation and chemotherapy treatment. It made her very sick, but she is a very strong woman. She beat the cancer in her body. She even still has all of her hair, the treatments only made it slightly thinner. She can drive and live day to day by herself now. I am very proud of her and her ability to overcome cancer. My family is very blessed that my grandma made such a good recovery from her cancer. Since, I have had my perspective widened on situations like this.
As a child, I kind of witnessed serious illness. I knew about being sick, but I never really knew that illness could be something that was not curable until the age of six when my grandfather died, though I never got to witness it straight on. My parents tried to shelter me from knowing things like that could happen to people, especially those I was close to. So, while they were having to witness my grandfather deal with his illness, I was completely unaware. Finally when he passed away, my mother explained to me what had happened to my grandfather. However, since I was so young, I still did not fully grasp what happened. It didn’t truly resonate with me until my freshman year of high school when I watched my great grandmother struggle with the difficulties of old age and serious illness. Since I was older, I completely understood how her arthritis was causing her pain, and how her old age caused her to become weaker. I believe her death was harder to for me to deal with because I was able to understand the process; however, after she passed away, I was able to reflect and understand how her illness and old age caused her to pass, which helped me to eventually come to terms with her death.
ReplyDeleteI have actually experienced everything imaginable throughout my life. Except death. I have witnessed many different forms of birth and rebirth, while also watching many family members practically decay in front of my eyes. The most vivid example I have of serious illness and the difficulties of old age affecting someone would be my maternal grandmother. From my earliest memories to this very day, I have watchedtime and age take Iits tole on her, from heart attacks and strokes, to muscle loss and a loss of the ability to heal (she has had a broken arm for over a year now, and her bruises never leave). With every day that passes, I see my grandmother look I little older, a little more of an empty shell. She becomes less and less of her old self. Seeing this process has been a real eye opener for me. I have had to witness how temporary our bodies and minds actually are. From seeing my grandmother have a career to sitting in a chair or medical bed day and night, I have seen what age does to people. And this early realization has been a part of the driving force behind my passion to get things done, while I still have the ability to do so.
ReplyDeleteMaranda Clymer
Ever since I can remember, my great grandparents were never able to be on their own. My grandmother had to live with them to assist them in daily life. My grandmother had to quit her job to cater to their needs. It was very difficult for her, and also very stressful. She cared to them as they slowly began to fade away. When I hear people talk about my great grandparents, they always talk about how outgoing they were, but I knew the two helpless people in their recliners.
ReplyDeleteI've worked for a home health care since December. During that time I have gone into three different households to work with three different people at varying health stages. The first was a man around 65 that was a war veteran. He was completely confined to a power chair because of severe diabetes and being overweight. Because he had very little family around, I was there to clean some of his incredibly small house, make his lunch, and just be a companion. We would sit and talk while some old western played. One day I showed up to his house and he was gone. What freaked me out was that his power chair was in the middle of the room. Come to find out, he was put in the veterans hospital by his daughter. I haven't heard anything else.
ReplyDeleteThe next two ladies I worked with were over the summer, every week day. I went to one in the mornings and the other in the afternoons. The lady in the morning was the sweetest lady I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. She was a small thing, maybe breaking 100 if wet. Apparently, two years ago, she was perfectly able to do anything she wanted to, like a road trip or a cruise, then she just started going downhill. 80 years of aging finally caught up with her. She is confined to a walker because of double vision. She gets extremely dizzy and has a great fall risk. I cleaned her house all the time. She asked me to do the odd jobs that she couldn't do, like rearrange the linen closet or fix all the gift bags she kept hidden for birthdays. What scared me was during the time I was there, she would have a 'bad day' and not have any energy to do normal tasks. She kept her mind, but her body just got tired.
Now the last lady tugged at my heart. She is barely 40 and had already gone through having 3 brain tumors. She wasn't in good shape at all, but she wasn't bitter about it at all. She was usually a happy. sweet lady. I was there mainly for companionship. She never married and only had a brother that came by every few days. She would get so excited to show me different movies like Smoky the Bandit and The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. It really hurt my heart to see how much the illness had taken from her, even if she seemed more or less okay.
These experiences really have shown me how quick life can change.
-Lauren Tucker
When I was a junior in high school, my grandma became ill. This was nothing new to my family, because she would become ill from time to time, but this time was different. At first, she was diagnosed with heart disease, which happens to run in my family unfortunately. Then as she stayed in the hospital for a greater length of time her condition digressed to heart failure. Finally, she was moved to a nursing home, where we thought she would be more comfortable, and possibly regain her strength, but to our disappointment she made very little progress. Also, she began to have memory problems due to the medicine she was taking. To make things even worse, the nursing home was two hours from where my family and I live, and with school and sports afterward it became difficult to make the trip to see her as often as I would have liked. All I wanted was for her to watch me play basketball one more time, she really enjoyed cheering her grandchildren on from the sidelines. She never got a chance to watch me play again, due to the distance and her health.
ReplyDeleteIn the first days of January, her health declined even more, and she was taken to the hospital in Norman where she was placed on life support. A few days later she passed away. I know nothing in this life is promised except death, but I wish it wasn’t this way. I miss my Meme more than anything in the world, she was always my biggest fan, no matter what she would support me. I think this is one reason why people believe in God, they want to believe they will see those again, that they have lost. I think it is partly why people have faith, if you don’t have faith, then what is the point of living? Only to die?
-Chisum Henry
I know what it is like to be the youngest child of the youngest children. I never really knew my grandparents. One grandpa was dead before I was born and I barely remember the other. My grandmothers were around for a while longer but one lived a state away and the other was in a nursing and I hated nursing home when I was younger because they scared me to death so I either refused to go or sat outside. When I was younger I hated kids who had “Memaws” and “Papaws” and “Papas” and “Grannies”. Mine were Grandma Bailey and Grandma Newport. Yes, I actually called my grandparents by their last name… But yes their old age made difficulties because it meant I never got to have the grandparents that I really wanted. While that might sound selfish, and it probably is, it’s the only real experience I had with old age. I was too young to understand the real consequences and reasons behind Grandma Newport moving to Texas to live with my uncle or Grandma Bailey moving into the nursing home.
ReplyDeleteLaura N.
I have witnessed serious illness and old age in my childhood. Talking about it helps, y’know? It was in 2008, so that puts me at twelve. My father had serious terminal illness; cancer in a majority of his internal organs and, most notable, his brain. I remember how our family gathered to hear him speak. I was so chocked to see my elder sisters and my brother all in the same place; more so shocked that Melissa wasn’t trying to off James again. Such children, I swear. We gathered at the dining room table, my father sitting at the head with my mom at his side. Imagine a tall man, 6ft 3 inches, sitting and a woman standing next to him only to just barely be eye level. That’s what I remember most about that day. My mom, at 5ft 1inch, standing next to my dad and being his rock as he told us they had to stop the chemo. I didn’t understand at the time, and I didn’t understand for a time yet, that that was the closest my dad could get to admitting he was going to die. He was aware of his end, but he refused to put it into words. He was proud or maybe afraid, but either way, he was going to face it like he did every problem he encountered: by his own will and with the aid of his family. We tried. Sweet Jesus, I was too young to understand what I was getting myself into, but I tried. He had a brain tumor, and things slowly got worse after he stopped chemo. There’s no way to make this all flowery and easy to swallow for anyone, so I’ll just put it plainly. He forgot. He would have lapses and forget where he was or how to speak. And just like that, he started to prepare for when he couldn’t regain himself. Then it happened. My father, tall and proud, would cry and scream at us to stay away. He couldn’t remember my mom, his wife of 29 years, or his children or even his grandchildren. He was like a lost child in the body of a dying man. The moments of clarity were so few and far between, and then, just a week before his 61st birthday, he went into a coma and we put him in hospice care. My mom was by his bedside at all hours, only leaving when I would take over for her. We read him the bible, and spoke to him. I remember how my family was preparing for the end, but I was too naïve. I actually thought he would somehow pull through. It was like something out of a movie. April 29th I held his hand. I told him that I was there for him and I would read him the tale of Samson for his birthday. And he whispered, so softly, “help me.” I think that’s when I truly acknowledged that this was happening. That my dad would be dying soon, and there was no coming back from this. June 2nd, sometime in the morning, I decided it was time to say what I thought needed to be said. I told him that it was okay to let go, and that I would take care of the family for him. He said “I love you.” His voice was stronger this time, wispy. He died that night, four days before his birthday and not long after I began to read the tale of Sampson to him. It was quiet, gentle, but I didn’t see it. I had to keep my niece and nephew from coming to his room, so I only got to see the involuntary rise and fall of a dead man’s chest and to hold an unresponsive hand. It was numbing, and my already ruined sleep cycle took a worse turn here. I didn’t sleep that night, but then yet I’m no one that truly cared for my dad did. The funeral was quiet. I didn’t cry. I thought it funny, in a melancholic kind of way, that the first time I ride in something remotely resembling a limo would be my father’s funeral. I don’t remember the service, and I can’t tell you what the weather was like. Honestly, the only thing I remember is how my eyes stung and my chest ached. My experience with terminal illness was the kind you don’t forget. It’s burned into my mind and I cannot deny that it haunted me for a few years afterward. I’m better now. I keep his wedding band with me now as well.
ReplyDelete-C. Elizabeth Cooley
When I was about 15, my grandmother was diagnosed with Stage IV lung cancer. She was only given a few weeks to live. At the time, she lived in Illinois and my immediate family lived in Oklahoma. Naturally, we decided to take a small trip to visit her. When we arrived, she had already been moved to a hospice facility. This was my first time ever coming near one, and at the time, I didn't grasp exactly what it meant, as my father tried to spare me from knowing just how little time she really had left. The atmosphere was depressing to say the least, more so than a hospital. It smelled of bleached death, as if they tried to scrub the scent out, but couldn't quite get the job done. The rooms were small and roommates cycled in and out, my grandma said. The food was served in small portions and not high in quality. The whole experience was traumatic for me. Not only did I have to actually watch someone I loved fight through a terminal illness, something I had never seen before, but I had to watch my grandmother suffer due to a lack of adequate treatment. It's still difficult for me to cope with her sickness and death.
ReplyDeleteLast spring, my grandfather suddenly became ill and was sent to the hospital. After the doctors realized he wasn't doing well and needed to be placed on life support. He didn't have any real illness, at least not one the doctors could figure out. It appeared his body had simply begun giving out on him due to his age. After a few days, the doctors found it best to pull the plug because it was unlikely my grandfather would make it without the support, and even if he did, his quality of life would be so poor to the point where it became almost inhumane to let him keep struggling. It's a strange concept that our bodies are what keep us going for so long, yet they eventually deteriorate and turn on us after so long. Although I know we were never meant to live for the rest of eternity, it can almost cause an existential crisis to meet your own mortality in such a cruel way.