My young, beautiful grandmother who, along with my great-grandmother, raised me, passed away. My teenaged daughter and I spent the week in her hospice room, where she was receiving pain meds. Her pancreatic cancer had grown onto a nerve. She had been managing to care for herself and her husband at home until then.
My teenager slept on the floor just to be near her. She was with me, holding my grandmother's hands and head as she passed. It was not like in the movies. It was messy and undignified. Her feet and legs turned purple and cold. Her mouth turned black. The death rattle is something you'd never forget. She began to breath in just her abdomen and then started to spit up bile. The spaces between her breaths lengthened. It was horrible. She lay there looking 20 years older than she was, and before this she could have passed for someone, easily, 20 years her junior.
Forget what you've been told about cancer. It's worse. Much, much worse.
Don't spend money on things with a partial donation to helping the cause. Give directly. Volunteer at hospices and hospitals. Bring food to those afflicted and to their families. Open your homes to out-of-town relatives who have come to help their ailing loved ones. Make sure folks have transportation and someone to walk their dogs. Offer to scrub toilets and do laundry. Go to the supermarket for them and then pay for it yourself. Pick up their pets' medications for them.
She was a fine lady that loved me when I barely deserved it and taught me to be a better person. It was an honor be with her, cleaning her, feeding her, and holding her in my arms when she took her last breath. She's in my profile picture with me.
My teenager slept on the floor just to be near her. She was with me, holding my grandmother's hands and head as she passed. It was not like in the movies. It was messy and undignified. Her feet and legs turned purple and cold. Her mouth turned black. The death rattle is something you'd never forget. She began to breath in just her abdomen and then started to spit up bile. The spaces between her breaths lengthened. It was horrible. She lay there looking 20 years older than she was, and before this she could have passed for someone, easily, 20 years her junior.
Forget what you've been told about cancer. It's worse. Much, much worse.
Don't spend money on things with a partial donation to helping the cause. Give directly. Volunteer at hospices and hospitals. Bring food to those afflicted and to their families. Open your homes to out-of-town relatives who have come to help their ailing loved ones. Make sure folks have transportation and someone to walk their dogs. Offer to scrub toilets and do laundry. Go to the supermarket for them and then pay for it yourself. Pick up their pets' medications for them.
She was a fine lady that loved me when I barely deserved it and taught me to be a better person. It was an honor be with her, cleaning her, feeding her, and holding her in my arms when she took her last breath. She's in my profile picture with me.
