Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts

Friday, May 23, 2014

Her Final Birthday

The other week, it was Auntie's birthday and it will be her last one. Short of a miracle, she will not see her next birthday.

We had an excellent day. She was quite bright that day, and there was a lot of laughter. Uncle P, her and my mum's brother, was up from Sydney and he bought the entire family fish and chips. He even bought me a different meal because he remembered I don't like fish. Auntie ate some chips.

We were all there: Mum, Dad, Brother, Cousin, Uncles, Grandmama... in the afternoon a friend of ours with an accessible van brought Grandfather out to visit too. My auntie's goddaughter (who went to school with me but was a year above me) was there too, the first time she'd been at one of our family functions - she coped wonderfully. I have seen her a couple of times since as well, and other people who I know are very important to my Auntie. These are the people I will see at her funeral.

It almost feels like a dream now.

We had champagne and I tried to drink it in the spirit of it all, but I really couldn't. Uncle C was more than happy to take care of it for me. I think he also took care of Auntie's.

We spent way too much time talking about how it's so strange that we have the cutest pets in the world. We clearly just pick well.

We all spent a lot of money on her, and I would do it again in a heartbeat.

The evening was very difficult, and not all of my friends understood that. After being positive all day, I cried like a flash flood in the evening. Because we had just celebrated her last birthday, and I am so happy to say it had been excellent.

We got no respite because the next week was Mother's Day (respite came later), and it has always been a celebration for Auntie, Grandmama and my own mother. It's a team effort; raising me, Brother and Cousin. The celebration was at our house and it was a bit quieter than Auntie's birthday. She was also much, much sicker. She lay in her recliner for most of it and rested. But it was Mother's Day and we got to celebrate it together.

A Mother's Day Montage


There is a lot of lasts going on, but also some firsts. I knitted her a scarf the other day and it's the first time I have successfully completed a knitting project. I'm meeting some people for the first time (or the first time in a long time) and I can see why they are so important to my aunt.

There is sadness, there is crying. But there is this strange sense of peace. You can't spend your life being sad all the time, because it is not really living. It's a sad situation, but you cannot be sad all the time. Otherwise you will die too.

So today, Mum went to Meals on Wheels for the first time in months and she's going to see two friends for coffee. She'll go see Auntie in the afternoon. Grandmama had a fall last night so it is important that she goes to the doctor and I will take her, and I don't know when we will see Auntie. So Uncle C is taking care of her this morning. And that is okay, we can just take it a bit at a time - and dwell on life, not the death.

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Monday, April 21, 2014

Palliative Care is Beautiful and I Hate It

My aunt is dying. I have  written that sentence out many times before and I have even said it a few times, with a dull feeling of numb acceptance.

Sometimes I don't know why they have started a new treatment. The other day they started chemotherapy. Do they honestly think it will work? Really?

My aunt is dying.

 
Mum, Me, My Auntie - late 2012.
             

The room is beautiful. There is artwork on the wall and, short of a funeral, I have never seen so many flowers for a single person at one time. I signed to my mum, when my aunt was sleeping just now, "which ones do you like best?" But she replied "I don't know" because it doesn't really matter. They are all beautiful and I hate them all.

The room would've once been a 4 bed ward, back in the day. There is a large and not totally uncomfortable couch, two Regency chairs (think of special needs recliners), another recliner, other chairs - no shortage of space for visitors. My uncle stays here every night and the mattress, as far as I can see, doesn't look like your run of the mill back breaking hospital mattresses. It looks like it may actually fit him and his long legs.

An awkward family photo - my 19th birthday. (Uncle is taking the photo)
      


Nobody writes "get well soon" anymore. Nobody buys those sort of cards. They write that they are always thinking of her and they are sending all their love. Perhaps there are even people praying for her, I don't know.

I know she has had a good life, but it wasn't meant to be like this. Nobody knows what the future holds, but I can assure you this isn't good. She will not attend her son's or nephew's or niece's weddings. I doubt she will see her son or myself reach 21, my birthday is in 5 months time.  Our dogs will both out live her. Her elderly parents will likely outlive her. No grandchildren.

And I simply hate it.

She is so much more than my aunt. She shared the place of mother along with my own mother and maternal grandmother. I could not figure out why I was not one for the general Mothers Day dedications on Facebook, until I realized it didn't feel right until I included all three women. They are all significant in raising me.

We do selfies and gosh don't they look good! This is the photo I use for my Mother's Day dedications. It was taken on Christmas Day, 2011. My Aunt, Mum, Me, and my Grandmama.


My aunt is dying.

Palliative care is beautiful and somewhat serene. But no matter how many flowers or presents people send, no matter how large and comfortable the room and no matter how many prayers are said: my aunt is dying.

And I hate it.

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

My Family Fails at Inclusion

As I write this, I am sitting on the couch at my grandparent's apartment. Well, maybe I should start calling it my grandmama's apartment. It is grandfather's 89th birthday, and next Tuesday he is moving to a nursing home.

It's not exactly a sad occasion. In fact, things have almost worked out as well as expected. Grandfather had a stroke two years ago, and if it hadn't been for one geriatrician who, though extremely doubtful, gave him a chance at rehab, he would have been in a nursing home since then. 

It took him months, but he came home. He has been home ever since. My grandmama has been his primary caregiver, with a lot of assistance from my mother and my aunt. 
Now things are changing. Sadly, my aunt - a wonderful woman, a doctor, and a lifelong non-smoker - has been diagnosed with lung cancer and the surgery has been difficult. My mother has been torn in different directions: trying to assist with her ill sister, as well as her father. Grandfather is declining. I can see it. 

He is not going to the nursing home because he is 89. He is going to the nursing home because he has chosen to. The nursing home is in the same complex as Grandmama's apartment, so she can walk there. She can visit any time. He can come home any time. But it is less work for her. Honestly? I think this will be happier for everyone. I hope that doesn't make me a horrible person. I think Grandfather will be happier. I think Grandmama will be happier. I hope so, at least. They can spend quality time together, instead of focusing so much on care.

And the truth is, I think my family fails at inclusion.  Maybe we are in denial, but as Grandfather sits in his chair, everyone else gets up it seems. Grandmama, Aunt and Mum go to the kitchen and they are generally just talking. The men go somewhere else as well. I am the only one who sits with Grandfather. I don't often have much to say. My life is not overly interesting. We both have aphasia as well, and seem to take it in turns as to has it worse. I try to talk about medicine Grandfather after all is a doctor (I will never say he was. He still deserves the title).

My family are great at caring for Grandfather. But when it comes down to the social side of inclusion, the fact is they downright fail: and I don't really know why. Maybe they don't understand how it feels. Maybe they want to talk about him, but the weird thing is that although Grandfather is now in a high care facility... I think we might do a better job on the inclusion than ever before...

What do you think?