Days with Granny

Similar to the inspiring book Tuesdays with Morrie I decided to do my own; Days with Granny. The stories of young, ignorant students in search of a deeper understanding through the visits with a terminal ill person.

What’s capable of taking many forms, poses a threat, and can appear at any moment? An ending you simply cannot escape, death is inevitable. We like to think we are immortal. However there are constant reminders that tell us otherwise. Sickness is a clear indication that our bodies are fragile. Most people avoid the uncomfortable thoughts of the unknown, and therefore avoid uncomfortable thoughts of being weak, sick, or dying. Which explains my reasoning for being nervous when requesting daily visits to my sick and dying grandmother. It’s a sensitive topic that people choice not to bring up. Since I have rarely ever brought it up with her, I was of sure how she was going to response. I hated to think that our conversation would offend her in some way. I did not want to be that unfriendly challenger of her immortality. This: A pure example of how I was afraid of the upcoming unknown. Thankfully my grandmother gladly agreed to be my interviewed expert. A creditable source and consider an expert because of her newly found lessons through the experience of dying.

The D word

Day one I was thinking about what I wanted to get out of this project. I was talking to an expert now; I wanted to take away as much as I could. But where to start? While making my way to her house I was followed by grey skies and clouds and I began to think how to start the day with her off. It was the type of scenery that matched the overall theme of my investigation. I began to back my thoughts all the way to the beginning, my thought process beginning. I began to think about where these ideas about death originate. As children we are mostly shielded away from death. No one ever brings it up; no one ever wants to talk about it. Movies are restricted for those under aged. That what age is it ok to know? Is there a right time for an explanation? I remember one of the first thoughts I had about dying. I thought of sleeping almost as being dead, I continued to think that really being dead simply meant you never woke up. I was drowned in the feeling of emptiness. For weeks I was afraid to sleep. Would it have been easier for me to cope if my mother had just explained it to me? Maybe. Then again how does one go about explaining something like death a subject they know very little about? I asked granny if her experience was any similar to mine. While my thoughts were generated just by brain storming, hers initial started with the death of a dog. Trixy was her name. She died of old age in her sleep on Sunday morning. My granny, 8 years old, was in shock, emotionless state of shock. Her mother’s views persuaded my granny to think their now dead dog was somewhere else in a better place.

“I’m going to die soon…it will not be to much longer until that me your talking about in the better place.” My granny turned and said to me. Not fully paying attention I was now. She failed to sugar code it at all. I couldn’t help myself but I snapped, Don’t Say That. She found my denial humorous. At 96 years old she explained, “allowing myself to die happened when I just couldn’t do the same things I used to.” I felt sorry for sorry for the both of us. In my defense though I was trying to practice a method I thought to be more positive. Like Beth tried. I did not like using words like dying, or death around her, simply because we know there is some truth behind those words. So not saying them makes it less likely. I think Morrie says it perfectly when he describes, “Everyone knows they’re going to die, but nobody believes it.” (p.81) It seems as though in the back of our minds we know we are going to die but we choose to ignore it. We comfort ourselves by pretending its not going to happen, least not for a while. That is exactly what I was attempting to do in this case, weather I was aware of it at the time or not.

Couch potato

I sat at her feet, watched her and listening as she told me her story. “I was sick for it was on quiet some time before I thought to really do anything about it.” Similar to Erik’s story, my grandmother went to the doctor only when her pain was unbearable. After the tests, the paperwork, hours of waiting, a doctor informed her and her family that she had cancer. No one needed to say anything else for them to know the end was closing in., “I accepting being able to die long ago, this was just a push over that edge.” Once just in for a check up and now a terminally ill patient. She looked down at me, widened her eyes to make her I comprehended her distinction, “I wasn’t sick, I was dying.” Getting sick and dying is packaged in with living, so what makes an ill patient, “terminal ill”? Mayo clinic has defined a terminally ill patient as one whose life expectancy is estimated to be six months or less. That is assuming the disease plays out the normal expected course. Which makes me wonder: how does one copes with knowing the time frame of their death? How do you, Granny cope with knowing your going to die? Faced with the same challenger of immortality, Morrie asks himself “Do I wither up and disappear, or do I make the best of my time left?” (p.10) He can let the disease slowly take over turning him into a vegetable or he can make a final accomplishment with the time he has left. Most of us believe we would try and make the best of our last months of living. However I also think that most of us wouldn’t. Do we have to be sick to appreciate being healthy? Do we have to experience some event with death to appreciate life? There was not much now my grandmother was capable of. At this point, her goal was to go out happy.

It was on Day two I met Cinda. She is responsible for making my grandmothers life as easy and comfortable as possible. Through her coverage of Medicare Granny was provided with routine home care. I did not fully understand my Granny’s situation until further research. Hospices were said to have originated in the 11th century, around year 1065. The terminally ill were put into designated placed for treatment by the Crusaders. Cinda was hired shortly after the diagnoses. She comes by everyday and is sent home when my grandmother lets her. My grandmother admitted openly that she liked having that sense of control in her life. We laughed as I picked up an unflattering picture of our whole family. I could have turned in any direction and would have seen a picture of someone in our family. They were everywhere. I rephrased my question a million times in my head before asking it. I wanted to know why Cinda? Why was this stranger here everyday as suppose to one of the many people in our family? It seemed like my grandmother had anticipated my question. She turned to me and smiled, “a bad day in home health, is still better than a good day in the hospital.” She knew her family members lives did not stop for her sickness. Refusing to be poked at in a hospital my grandmother wanted to be at home. A recent study conducted by the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute found that patients with cancer who died in ICUs or hospitals were ones who experienced more physical and emotional distress at the end of life than those who were treated at home. (Krasny) With as much experience as me babysitting Cinda is here everyday taking care of my grandmother until she dies. “But don’t worry that included the connecting machinery, plastic food, and smelly sheets you wear.” My grandma joked.

The line up

Day three, I found my grandmother in the same place as the last time. She said in the chair by the window, her frail body barely making a dent in the brown colored couch. I was pleased to see her happy with me there. “Its amazing what a little young positive energy can do” she says to me. Which make me think why it happens so rarely. One hour of my time makes this woman happy for days. A dose of young healthy energy lightens the burden of dying. And yet, in our society the sick are isolated with the sick and more sick. That really can’t help the already present situation.

I walked over to find my grandmother holding a picture. An old black and white one of a young, beautiful lady in a dress, “This is me.” she exclaimed. I took in gently, afraid it mind crumble to pieces with to much force, and examined the faded edges. She uncovered this picture to tell her next story. Fully aware of my illness and dying unit, Granny racked her brain so she could share any bit of helpful information. Mostly working off of personally experience she talked to me about her mother, a health care system, and a funeral.

Speaking slowly and with pauses in between my grandmother told me about my great great grandmother who had died. She died of old age at 60. My grandmother went to the funeral and say her last name craved neatly on the top, “it was unreal, seeing my name written on the tomb stone…I knew I was next.” I had chills as she recaptured her breath from all the talking we were doing. She continued, “I fought my way out of getting old.” Only to realize it’s a guarantee, fighting about the things that are inevitable is not worth it. Death is such a foreign and distance concept to us. We do not know when it happens or how it happens, and not knowing is the scariest part. We together fill that emptiness feeling with thoughts that are comforting. Ideas that suggest there is a better place we are sent to. People have so many different theories. Granny believes in one I have never thought of. Like most she believes in heaven, and hell. The only difference is that she believes hell is right here; it is the world we reside in today. Theoretically we come to earth to learn the lessons we need to, then we die and are sent back to heaven. It’s all apart of a cycle, that people do over and over. I was assured that I would be seeing more of granny, not only in this life time but in many more.

STEWART, BARBARA . "Final Days, at Home." New York Times (1997): n. pag. Web. 17 Jan 2011.

Krasny, Ros. "Costs spike when terminally ill leave hospice: study." CFA institution (2010): n. pag. Web. 17 Jan 2011.