All year, my grandfather (Dad's dad) has been in and out of the hospital, sick with all kinds of problems. On Palm Sunday (near mid-March), his heart dropped to 10 bpm, but hospital staff were able to take care of him. All summer, he was in and out of the hospital, and finally, on August 28th, he passed peacefully in his home surrounded by immediate family.
Sad. So sad. My dad lost his father. And even though I can't imagine losing my father (especially now...details later), my Granddad was ready to go (at 95 and having a low quality of life, wouldn't you be ready?). Now, my family takes care of my Nana (93), visiting her nearly everyday, getting anything she needs, and helping her around the house.
I have always been and always will be so grateful for having known a perfect role model of a gentleman for 26 years. Many people don't get nearly that many good-quality years to spend with grandparents. Our family was truly blessed to have him and my Nana around for so long.
While my Dad copes with losing his father, my mom has been helping my Nana out as much as possible. But then...and here's where I will explain everything I said would earlier.
I hate typing this...just thought I would let you know.
Preface:
My mom was diagnosed very recently with "atrial fibrillation", a.k.a. palpitations of the heart that are rapid and irregular. When she asked the doctors if it would be a serious problem, she was told that no, it would not be serious, and that she would just need to listen to her heart, and relax with deep breaths when it started racing.
So, every few weeks, or even months, my mom would sit in her chair in the den, close her eyes, and breathe calmly in and out. Then we knew she was having a moment of "a fib".
Back to now:
On September 9, Mom and I were sleeping in the den, she in her chair and I on the couch (thanks, sinus gunk). I awoke at 3:35 to Mom getting extremely sick in the bathroom (she never gets physically sick...it just doesn't happen). I sit up and ask her if she's OK. She responds that something's wrong and she's been up sick for an hour and can't stop getting sick. She tells me to go back to sleep, so I do for 2 minutes. After 2 minutes, I wake up again and she's sick again. She says the chills are coming on and she has a headache. She sits under the blanket, but has to go to the bathroom again. Finally, we both move out to the kitchen, where she lastly says, "I've got the chills, headache, upset stomach... (Uh-oh! I think...Dad was sick last night after eating something...food poisoning?!)...and I just have this tightness in my chest." My chest goes tight.
I get Mom to the ER by 4:30.
What was Mom's concern in the er?
"Mom, stop. We've cancelled all your subbing days. We've got you covered, Mom. We've got you."
Work. That was her big concern.
Finally, around 7 AM, the doctor updates us.
"We did all we could, CPR for 30 minutes straight. Her heart completely stopped. We couldn't save her. I am so sorry."
My heart drops, my stomach clenches, I start seeing spots. Brother and Dad scream, I scream. We sit there wrenching out sobs while the doctor waits. I sit there numb with shock. We are told 15 minutes later we can go in to say good-bye. We walk in and say our separate good-byes. I open the curtain and have to say good-bye to my best friend, my mentor, my confidant, my #1 fan, my Mother, my Mom, my Mommy. My Momma.
How. How do I do this? How do I sum up a lifetime of regrets? Of love? Of sadness? Of happiness? Of anger? Of memories? I stroke her cheek, tell her that I'm so sorry I couldn't save her, that I love her, and that I know she knows that. I just keep repeating...I love you Momma. I love you Momma. I love you. Please come back. Don't leave me.
This wouldn't be so hard if Mom and I hadn't become so close, especially in the last month. I had taken her on a Mom/daughter road trip to Chicago, where we had connected over some wonderful talks about how much we loved and admired each other.
......I just don't know what else to say. I guess that's it. I'll leave it with some quotes that sum up how I feel:
