In May my Grandpa B (my mom’s dad) turned 80. We had an awesome family trip to the zoo followed up with a party and magic show. It was so much fun. Fast forward 2 weeks and he’s in the hospital with an infected gallbladder. After 9 days in the hospital, he was able to go home. Less than 2 weeks went by and he was back in the hospital for dehydration and kidney failure. He refused treatment, signed a DNR, and requested to be moved to Hospice.
In just a month we went from having my grandpa be up and around and in general good health to having him in a hospice facility and planning his funeral.
Since we moved him to the hospice facility, I can tell he is much more comfortable. We’ve had some good visits with him while he’s there, and he’s frankly holding on longer than any of us thought he would. I guess he likes it there and wants to stay for a while.
In the meantime, we’re making arrangements and plans and we’re all saying our goodbyes. And I’m trying not to think about what it will be like for me when it’s my spouse or my father. I know I’ll fall to pieces if I do.
It’s been a lot to take in and try to absorb. As my husband said, Grandpa B was the one we thought would be the last to go. No one figured he would go so soon … so fast. Explaining it all to B has been interesting. He seems to be grasping what is happening. It’s a fine line to give him enough information so he understands, but making sure he knows that getting sick doesn’t mean you will die, that people can go to the hospital and get better, that people in his family will be around a while yet.