Grandma is done and gone

Grandma Lee's grand-daughter came Tuesday night, and stayed at the nursing home with her gram from then until about 7 in the morning, when she we home for  a little while to shower and get a few hours' sleep. I arrived at 10:45, fully intending to stay two or three hours and then go home. However, it was very clear that Lee was coming near her end, so I waited for Grand-Daughter to arrive somewhere around 1:30 (if I recall correctly--time blurs).

She sat near the head of the bed and held her grandmother's hand non-stop. I was on the other side, near the foot, and rested my hand gently on Lee's lower leg. We talked to Lee, we talked about old times, we talked about life since we'd spent real time together last--which has been many years. I always had strong maternal feelings for Grand-Daughter. Her own mother was/is a case, her father (whom I loved at one time) ineffectual and sad, her Grandma Lee was the solid place in her world. They were each others' lights.

We sat there for hours, chatting, laughing, sharing, and including Lee in the conversation. If you'd been watching, it might have looked strange, because she clearly was not "sitting at the table". However, every once in a while we'd talk about something that had emotional meaning to her, and Grand-Daughter would see a few tears fall from her right eye. The hospice nurses told us that hearing is the last sense to go, so we think she really was listening to us.

I've never been in the room when someone died before. The hospice nurse gave us an idea of what to expect in terms of physical changes as she neared the end, so we knew when she was in the final stage.  Grand-Daughter kissed Grandma's hand, and cried, and spoke about her love. We both told her how much we appreciated all she'd done for us, and how much she was loved, and that she deserved to rest now.

Lee's breathing had been a little fast when I arrived. Now she was trying to take deep breaths, but clearly couldn't fill her lungs. The breaths became fewer, and irregular; she'd pull in three or four, and then it would stop...so long we thought she was done, but 30 seconds later another group of straining breaths; then another lull. Subjectively, it seemed to go on forever, but I think it was probably about 6 or 7 minutes of this.

Finally, there just wasn't another breath. Grand-Daughter said, "It's been a long time since the last one." I said, "Yeah, I've been watching the counter on the stereo, and it's been about 2 minutes. She's gone. I'm pretty sure. I'll go get the nurse." I went out in the hall and grabbed the first nurse I found to let her know that Grandma has passed. She hung up her cell phone call and went running to find an RN. I went back in the room and sat back down. Grand-Daughter hadn't moved. She was just looking at her Gram.

We started talking again while we waited. A man wearing khakis and a polo shirt and carrying a Bible came in the room. He introduced himself as one of the chaplains. I don't know whether he just reminded me of an actor who's in horror movies a lot, or what--he's compact, not much taller than me, dark wavy hair, metrosexual-tidy--I thought he was a little strange from the get-go.

Grand-Daughter and I introduced ourselves, and he started to talk about how he and "Sister" Lee had spent many good times talking about Jesus and the better world to come. That irritated me a bit. I know Lee, and what probably happened was she was glad to have anyone stop to talk with her, so he preached, and she sat there and nodded her head a lot so he wouldn't leave. She was a Christian, but not a church-goer, or a very specific type of Christian. This guy was a card-carrying bible banger. She probably rolled her eyes when he left after one of their conversations.

Anyway, without asking us any questions, he walked past me to lean over Lee's head, still babbling on about walking hand in hand with Lord Jesus and such, and then he stopped. He stood there, looking down at her, and said, "hmmmmmmmmmm." Beat, beat, beat, beat.  "Hmmmmmmmmmmm." Beat, beat, beat. "Ummmm, uhhhhh, is she breathing?" In unison, we answered, "No, she died a half hour ago. We're waiting for the hospice nurse." Then, we turned to each other, talking with our eyes, and what our eyes said was, "CREEEEEPYYYYYY!" And we suddenly were trying not fall into a case of "Inappropriate Giggle Syndrome". How could this guy be a chaplain in a nursing home, and not know what a dead body looks like? I mean, dead-for-a-half-hour, not just-now-expired. I don't know--maybe he's a perfectly nice man who didn't expect to see newly-bereft people chatting quietly rather than sobbing and tearing their hair. Frankly, we'd already met two other chaplains; one from the nursing home, and one from hospice, who were lovely people. They talked to us, got to know a little about us and Lee, and were very tender and loving and respectful in their ministrations. This guy--he was gonna throw Jesus out on the table, and we were all gonna eat it seasoned his way, by golly!

We were both too tired to cut him any slack. Neither of us got up or said more then "Mmm-hmm?" We just watched him as he beat retreat out of the room. And then we looked at each other again, and laughed, and said together, "That was creeeeeepyyyyy."

The hospice nurse finally came, got info, called the mortuary for us, and we left. Neither of us had eaten all day, so we went to a nearby barbecue restaurant called Dillon's. I'd thought it was a steakhouse, for some reason, and had wanted a filet, but the ribs I managed to eat tasted fine, and Grand-Daughter seemed to enjoy her "dip" sandwich. The two of us just couldn't shut up the whole time we were at the restaurant, so the eating was slow.  "Two to-go boxes, please."

We said goodbye in the restaurant parking lot, loosely planning the next day's tasks. I went home and called friend Shana and asked her if she would take me out and get me drunk. Even though she had to get up at 5:30 the next morning for work, she came to get me. I hadn't had a drink in....a month and a half? more?...so after three songs and three mixed drinks at the karaoke bar, I was all sheets to the wind, and Shana poured me home, where I promptly tried to be sick. It didn't happen, but I wished it would. Shana is a good friend. She's a person who will always be there for you whenever you ask. I owe her one for taking such good care of me Tuesday night.

I believe I'll keep my distance from the alcohol again. That therapy didn't feel nearly so good as I remembered. It was just the first thing that came to mind after the very rough day. I wanted to numb up, and all I did was make myself sick.