||[Nov. 24th, 2014|12:00 am]
I couldn't finish the last entry.|
Sometime I find it better not to dwell on things too much.
After Martha came and went, life got... more crazy. Almost like she was trying to detract from the pain we were feeling, my Grandmother became seriously ill with a condition called fibrocytic lung disease. Basically the lungs lose their elasticity and turn to fibrous, tough tissue which makes it hard to breathe. However, being in her mid-eighties, the lack of oxygen manifested itself as a dementia. She became increasingly belligerent and difficult to deal with. By the time the Dr's has decided what was wrong, there was nothing that could be done.
We cared for her at home, and would receive phonecalls to say that she'd wandered into the street, or been violent to a passing neighbour, or the visiting carer couldn't settle her. My strong, independent, life loving battle axe of a Grandmother became a shell of herself.
In early July 2013 I was called by the wake up carer. Gran was bleeding from the nose and it couldn't be stopped. I practically flew up there and got there before the paramedics. I'm not squeamish, but there was more blood than I have ever seen.
She was fading in and out of consciousness, so I just propped her up, held a bowl under her chin, pinched her nose and hoped for the best.
The best was the worst.
She passed away. The strongest woman I will have ever had the pleasure of knowing in this life, and with the exception of my Mom, the woman who made the biggest impact on my adult life, is gone. She's been gone a while now, and I miss her with every fibre of my being. I miss her obstinance, her arrogance, and the all consuming love that she had for us all. I miss the bad cooking, and the fights.
Life seems so unfairly grown up when you have no grandparents left in this world.