End Days

Wood & Co

After Christmas Gary was losing interest in food, talking, and hearing others talk. His response to pain was moaning. He had no interest in bathing, brushing teeth. Gary disliked being bathed by the home health aid. First couple of times she came, Gary would refuse to look at her and was uncooperative. He made some rude remark. I don’t recall what was said, but it was inappropriate and totally out of character. Thor spoke up and scolded his dad. Gary behaved childishly make sneering faces like his mother’s petulant tantrums. It was funny and sad.

Music, and TV were irritated rather than soothing, provoking restless movement. He was becoming more distant. By the end of week, Gary seemed quieter, more relaxed, Thor and I felt proud that we were on top of the pain and validated our usefulness. Weeks later it dawned on me, it wasn’t our great care. It was Gary’s neurologic status declining. Saturday, I called the hospice nurse and asked for a visit to assess Gary. His body more still. He seemed further away. I felt our connection severed. I imagined the once mirthful man, playful and dancing as Paul Simon’s 50 ways played again and again in my head. Sad and happy at the same time.

Slip out the back, Jack
Make a new plan, Stan
You don't need to be coy, Roy
You just listen to me
Hop on the bus, Gus
You don't need to discuss much
Just drop off the key, Lee
And get yourself free

I believe he left through the window at the foot of his. bed.

Hospice nurse confirmed that death would likely be soon, no longer than three days.

The little girls saw the change in grandpa. Lily age seven came and sat close nuzzled into me. I asked her if she was crying. She nodded and looked up and said, Is grandpa going to die? He is but we don’t know when. She cried some more. Lily you have seen grandpa be very sick and he cannot get better. even though he cannot talk or hug back, he still can feel your touch and hear your sweet voice. It’s a good time to tell him anything that you want him to know. She and her older sisters would spend short periods, their own private time on Saturday evening and Sunday. They would then resume playing, reading or drawing. They enjoyed seeing aunts and uncles stop by.

Monday our lead hospice nurse came by at 8:30. She confirmed Gary’s blood pressure was much lower, his breathing irregular and temperature up a little. She said, “Pretty soon.” I called our younger son telling him that he needs to come to home now. He lives about 40 miles away and fortunately is off on Mondays. He drives all over the state in his job. This was a blessing that he could get here in a safe way.

Thor reached out to a couple of his cousins. A trio of his closest buds came by and paid respects to Gary. It was good to see them and hear them reminisce. Trips to Florida, fishing, fireworks and being pulled behind a truck on saucers in the snow by Uncle Gary. Midafternoon, my brother Bill and his beautiful daughter, Erin arrived.

They spent time praying and saying goodbye. They came out of the bedroom and we chatted. Erin turned and went to Gary’s side. She called, “Aunt Michele,” I yelled for the boys. We got there for his last breath. I palpated his arm and his carotid saying there’s still a pulse. Thor reached for my hand and said, He’s gone mom. What a blessing that Erin, who is a nurse, was there for all of us. Gary’s struggle was over.

There is a sense of relief that our loved one was no longer suffering. The challenge of daily uncertainty resolved. Confusion about the mixed emotions. Concerns for the survivors. Numbness settling in. Always the next right step.