About a year ago, I remember sitting with my grandma in her living room and Grandpa was in their room. We were talking and she got emotional and told me that the doctor had said that his cancer was progressing- he estimated we had 6 months to a year left with him. The news didn't hit me until I was leaving their house that night to go back to my place. As I walked away from the house, I turned to look back and wave, and there was Grandpa, at the door, smiling and waving. I waved quickly and then turned and walked to my car. I got in and closed the door and lost it. I cried probably halfway back to my place. I couldn't imagine the loss, but even more so I didn't want to think of him having to suffer and fight any harder than he already was.
Here we are, a year later. I'm in a much different place personally. This time last year I was an emotional wreck. Right now, I've been praying for the last few weeks for a little more emotion- I've felt pretty blunted. Today, God answered my prayer. It was a really hard, emotional day.
We got to the hospital this morning in time to talk with his doctor. The prognosis isn't good, but there's no way to know how much longer we have. It could be the end or he could hold on for weeks. Limbo isn't fun.
His nurse today wasn't very caring and it was so difficult to watch her complete her tasks, knowing that I could do them if I weren't still a student and weren't without an instructor to look over my shoulder. I did my best to attend to his needs, although there are some things that a granddaughter can't do, to preserve his dignity. It was an honor to sit on his bed and hold his hand while his body tensed with involuntary spasms and as he dreamed of his life's work and dreams, doped up on pain meds. I was glad to offer him water when his mouth and lips were so dry and to drain his catheter bag. It made me resolve to be a better nurse. To be a nurse that cares for my patients as I wanted the nurse today to care for my grandpa.
At one point today, my mom answered the room phone and she began to answer what he had eaten that day and talk more about food. I thought surely it was dietary services, from the cafeteria, making sure the food was ok or something like that. I wouldn't believe that it was the dietitian calling to check in. But when my mom hung up the phone, I asked her who had called and she said the dietitian. Mom said she probably should have let me talk with her and I said no, that I shouldn't have talked with her because I would have not been pleasant. I couldn't believe that she had called and not come by the room to check in. Later today, though, as I've thought more about it, I know there have been times that I've asked the nurse how the patient is doing because the patient is sleeping or the family isn't around to ask etc. and I never entered the patient's room. I'm not above skipping out on patient interaction sometimes. But I can say that I've never called a patient in the hospital to check in- I've always either seen them personally or talked to a caregiver instead.
Grandpa is a trooper. He doesn't complain. Even when he was in so much pain and his body was out of his control, he was silently fighting. He smiled a lot today, which was nice to see but hard at the same time. It was a smile not of joy, not of all-is-well with my body; no, it was a smile of peace and love for his family. He doesn't want us to suffer and he's ready to go. Not that it makes it any easier, but I'm thankful that he isn't fearful of death and he has come to terms with his illness.
Grandma is a strong woman. She will tell you otherwise, but despite her dependence on Grandpa for many things, she can hold her own, mostly unknowingly. She doesn't realize how opinionated she is. She has a spunky, almost rebellious side to her that is lurking just below her surface at any time. I wish that it did surface, but I think she keeps it under wraps. She's being so brave right now. She cares for Grandpa better than any nurse I'm sure that he's had. She does her best to help him maintain his dignity and independence, but knows that he's physically weak and helps him when he needs it but won't ask for it. Their love for one another is so evident. I'm thankful for that. She's not ready for him to go, and it was really hard to watch her coming to terms with the fact that it may be sooner rather than later.
I'm thankful for my 24 hour trip to FL. I'm thankful that I was able to see him. I didn't want to leave his side today, and it was hard to say goodbye, not knowing if it would be the last time or not. I cried today, but it was stifled. I didn't want to loose it in front of Grandpa. It seems like it's still pent up inside of me. I'm not sure when this will hit me. I don't want him to suffer any longer. I don't want to prolong the inevitable. Still, I can't imagine life without him. He's an amazing, tender-hearted, generous, faithful, and strong man who loves God and his family.
I think it will probably always be this hard to be the patient's family in the hospital instead of the caregiver. But, I'm really thankful for the experience because I can relate that much better to my patients and it motivates me to do my job well when I'm caring for someone else's grandpa.
My strength is dried up like a potsherd and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth; you lay me in the dust of death... But you, O Lord, be not far off; O my Strength, come quickly to help me... I will declare your name to my brothers; in the congregation I will praise you... For he has not despised or disdained the suffering of the afflicted one; he has not hidden his face from him but has listened to his cry for help. Psalm 22:15, 19, 22, 24
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