February 24, 2005
My mom called this morning. She asked that my cousin and I come over this weekend to put a collage together of photos from my grandfather's life. It's hard to believe that he will be gone soon.
4 years ago Thanksgiving, my mom and her three sisters made the difficult decision to move their father into a nursing home. Both he and my grandmother suffer from dementia, but he deteriorated quicker than she did and he started to lash out physically at my mom and aunts out of frustration. He has been in a slow decline ever since, sometimes recognizing us, sometimes not, but always enjoying our visits. When I would bring my girls he (and the other residents) would just light up.
He recently had a bout of pneumonia that lowered his oxygen dramatically. He recovered, but we think he may have had a stroke. He no longer responds to anyone. He opens his eyes just a little or not at all. He can't speak. He can't eat (he has forgotten how to swallow).
Grandpa is the patriarch of my family. He is the only grandpa I ever knew. When I was about 6 he had hernia surgery and I was so distraught at him being in the hospital that my mom snuck me up to visit with him (at the time, no kids were allowed). I can't even tell you what it was about him that I love so much. He was never one to say "I love you", but his actions spoke louder than words ever could. The look of joy on his face when we would go over to their house spoke volumes of his feelings for us.
He has occupied my thoughts ever since I went to visit him last weekend. It took my mom about 1/2 hour to get him to drink a cup and a half of thickened milk. He was obviously hungry, but he couldn't get the mechanics of swallowing coordinated well enough. For a few minutes, everything clicked and he drank like it was the cup of life. I don't think he has eaten since. As much as I don't like to think about it, he is essentially starving to death. The hospice workers told us it isn't nearly as cruel as it sounds. When the body is ready to stop, the hunger signal no longer gets transmitted, so he doesn't suffer for it. Plus, a feeding tube comes with it's own host of problems. We are being realistic, a feeding tube is not going to improve his quality of "life" any.
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My mom just called, instead of going over there on Sunday, I'm going tomorrow. The nursing home moved him to a private room. His breathing isn't good and his extremities are getting blue. He is also sleeping most of the time. The said it will probably happen in the next couple of days.
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UPDATE: Grandpa Ed (and beloved Poppa) passed away at 11:00 am. 1916-2005
Last Rites were administered on Tuesday and my mom said he visibly relaxed afterward. I think he was waiting for the priest to come, he knew it was time.
4 years ago Thanksgiving, my mom and her three sisters made the difficult decision to move their father into a nursing home. Both he and my grandmother suffer from dementia, but he deteriorated quicker than she did and he started to lash out physically at my mom and aunts out of frustration. He has been in a slow decline ever since, sometimes recognizing us, sometimes not, but always enjoying our visits. When I would bring my girls he (and the other residents) would just light up.
He recently had a bout of pneumonia that lowered his oxygen dramatically. He recovered, but we think he may have had a stroke. He no longer responds to anyone. He opens his eyes just a little or not at all. He can't speak. He can't eat (he has forgotten how to swallow).
Grandpa is the patriarch of my family. He is the only grandpa I ever knew. When I was about 6 he had hernia surgery and I was so distraught at him being in the hospital that my mom snuck me up to visit with him (at the time, no kids were allowed). I can't even tell you what it was about him that I love so much. He was never one to say "I love you", but his actions spoke louder than words ever could. The look of joy on his face when we would go over to their house spoke volumes of his feelings for us.
He has occupied my thoughts ever since I went to visit him last weekend. It took my mom about 1/2 hour to get him to drink a cup and a half of thickened milk. He was obviously hungry, but he couldn't get the mechanics of swallowing coordinated well enough. For a few minutes, everything clicked and he drank like it was the cup of life. I don't think he has eaten since. As much as I don't like to think about it, he is essentially starving to death. The hospice workers told us it isn't nearly as cruel as it sounds. When the body is ready to stop, the hunger signal no longer gets transmitted, so he doesn't suffer for it. Plus, a feeding tube comes with it's own host of problems. We are being realistic, a feeding tube is not going to improve his quality of "life" any.
-----------
My mom just called, instead of going over there on Sunday, I'm going tomorrow. The nursing home moved him to a private room. His breathing isn't good and his extremities are getting blue. He is also sleeping most of the time. The said it will probably happen in the next couple of days.
-----------
UPDATE: Grandpa Ed (and beloved Poppa) passed away at 11:00 am. 1916-2005
Last Rites were administered on Tuesday and my mom said he visibly relaxed afterward. I think he was waiting for the priest to come, he knew it was time.