There's No Good Time to Die

My parents called early last week to tell me that it was time for my grandfather to move into hospice. They'd had a long conversation with his doctor, and although it's been years since my grandfather was the same person I remember from my childhood, it was the first time that the word "Alzheimer's" was mentioned. My grandfather always expected - and wanted - to "go" first. Ever since my grandmother died in 1987, he's been talking to her picture daily and telling us goodbye at regular intervals.

But he's remarkably healthy and he hasn't died. He turned 98 last month, but this isn't a glad circumstance. My grandfather has always been a strong, intelligent, and incredibly dignified man. Over the past 10 years or so, he's gradually lost all of that. He would have been devastated to see how he's ended up. And he's outlived nearly everyone he knew. My father visits his dad daily - the nursing home is blocks from my parents house - and I know that this is incredibly hard on him, too.

But on Thursday, Grandpa "failed" his hospice test. You can only be in hospice care for a maximum of 18 months. Thursday was a "good" day, and there was no guarantee at that time that he had only 18 months yet to live. Reprieve.

Then, early Saturday morning, my dad got a call from the nursing home. My grandfather hadn't eaten or had anything to drink since that good spell on Thursday. He was unresponsive. He was agitated. He was moving to hospice immediately. So quickly!

One of his legs and his "good" hand were mottled and purple. They put him on a morphine patch to make him comfortable and ease his agitation. They offer food and water, but he's not "with-it" enough to take any. Now they're talking hours, or days. After so long, suddenly it's all happening so fast!

I don't know if I should go home or not.

On Saturday afternoon, when I got the call, I was on my way to a baby shower. Then there was a BBQ with friends that night. Today I have a meeting at work and had already arranged childcare for Ellie. Tuesday will bring our end of the year party for the bible study I attend and Ellie's last MusicGarten class of the season, as well as my book club. Thursday we have two therapy sessions and I have a night out with friends planned . . .

Of course it's not convenient. It's never convenient to make last minute schedule changes. And he won't know if I'm there or not. Would it be helpful to my parents if I'm there? Or will it be the added stress of company when they're dealing with this on their own, together?

My father would like to have my grandfather cremated, and schedule a memorial service and burial later, when it's more convenient. My grandfather currently lives up near my parents, but he will be buried where he used to live, closer to here.

Death isn't supposed to be convenient. One of the best things about a funeral is that it's always within a certain small window after someone dies. Everyone understands: you drop everything and you go.

If we don't do this now, right after he dies, when will we get around to it? I know my family. Organization and planning are not our strong suits as a group, and there *is* no such thing as a convenient time for all of us to get together.

Also, although I know it's silly and sentimental, I don't like the idea of my grandfather being cremated when my grandmother was not. Togetherness is what's always been most important to him, to both of them, and he would hate this. But it's not my decision, and it's not my father who's dying.

I just don't know if I should go home.

****

Update. It's all moot now. I'm fresh out of grandparents; my parents are the front-line generation now.

Like hitting "Publish" was a catalyst, my grandfather died moments ago. The funeral will be on Friday.