six weeks ago Thursday, my frail and elderly grandfather fell as he was walking to his sitting room from the supper table. I wasn't there, I was at yoga...but my parents were. Dad had just sat back down in his own seat as they were chatting, as is our wont, after supper. Grandpa attempted to stand, using his cane as he has done for the past ten years since his third stroke, caught his feet together and fell sideways. Dad attempted to lunge after him, but managed only to fall heavily to his own knees a foot from Grandpa.
It took three hours for us to convince Grandpa to agree to a hospital visit, despite his horrible pain. He had broken his tibia, very near the hip, and required a surgery our local rural hospital could not provide. Thankfully, another hospital two hours away could and did take him and performed the necessary surgery less than 24 hours after Grandpa fell. Even better, my grandmother, my father's mother-in-law, lives just ten minutes from that hospital. Soon Grandpa was recovery as best he could from the surgery and everything seemed as though it would progress.
Then, because he wasn't eating and complaining of urinary issues and because he was already in the hospital, the doctors found that he has what is likely a cancerous growth over 2/3 of his left kidney. The growth requires surgery to remove the kidney, but that should be the end of it. Alas, as are most things with my headstrong paternal grandfather, that has not been the end of it. He was then too week for the kidney surgery, so off to a rehab facility to strengthen him and his leg he went...still two hours away from our home and business, but only ten minutes from my grandmother's.
Things are never easy, and things have only gotten worse. Grandpa refuses to eat much, claiming hatred for the "prison" food. He has never eaten or drank anything in his life that he does not want to consume. As a baby, his mother had to give him Eagle brand condensed milk instead of any other milk since it was the only kind he'd drink. This 81 year old man has never even tried pizza, not a single bite. He won't even lick a piece. "It looks like a dog puked on dough," he says. Adding his newer wish to simply die to his disdain for just about all foods has lead to an untenable position.
We have taken care of every family member too ill to take care of him or herself for quite some time. My great grandfather passed at home. So did my grandmother. Grandpa has starved himself to a condition where we are not able to care for him at home. It is eating each and every one of us from the inside, none more so than my father.
After five weeks of one person one place, two at another, constantly switching and driving, my grandmother living two hours away from her own home, then taking care of unexpected house guests, Grandpa has finally been moved to a nursing home just a half hour away from our home and business.
He was thrilled to get out of the "concentration camp" rehab facility, but frustrated with an inability to understand that he cannot be left alone for any period of time. Due to that, our full time seven days a week no employees business will not allow us to care for him. He has been there for forty-eight hours and has already swung from looking as though he could pass in hours to sitting up and dining with the other residents and carrying on full conversations.
We've now embarked on the long winding road of Medicare and nursing homes and waiting, hoping, waiting. It is life. it is how things are for us now. It doesn't beg sympathy, though it does garner it from unexpected places. It brings tears and laughter and family we haven't seen for some time. It is life and life is how it is.
"Be well. Do good work. Keep in touch." - Garrison Keillor
It took three hours for us to convince Grandpa to agree to a hospital visit, despite his horrible pain. He had broken his tibia, very near the hip, and required a surgery our local rural hospital could not provide. Thankfully, another hospital two hours away could and did take him and performed the necessary surgery less than 24 hours after Grandpa fell. Even better, my grandmother, my father's mother-in-law, lives just ten minutes from that hospital. Soon Grandpa was recovery as best he could from the surgery and everything seemed as though it would progress.
Then, because he wasn't eating and complaining of urinary issues and because he was already in the hospital, the doctors found that he has what is likely a cancerous growth over 2/3 of his left kidney. The growth requires surgery to remove the kidney, but that should be the end of it. Alas, as are most things with my headstrong paternal grandfather, that has not been the end of it. He was then too week for the kidney surgery, so off to a rehab facility to strengthen him and his leg he went...still two hours away from our home and business, but only ten minutes from my grandmother's.
Things are never easy, and things have only gotten worse. Grandpa refuses to eat much, claiming hatred for the "prison" food. He has never eaten or drank anything in his life that he does not want to consume. As a baby, his mother had to give him Eagle brand condensed milk instead of any other milk since it was the only kind he'd drink. This 81 year old man has never even tried pizza, not a single bite. He won't even lick a piece. "It looks like a dog puked on dough," he says. Adding his newer wish to simply die to his disdain for just about all foods has lead to an untenable position.
We have taken care of every family member too ill to take care of him or herself for quite some time. My great grandfather passed at home. So did my grandmother. Grandpa has starved himself to a condition where we are not able to care for him at home. It is eating each and every one of us from the inside, none more so than my father.
After five weeks of one person one place, two at another, constantly switching and driving, my grandmother living two hours away from her own home, then taking care of unexpected house guests, Grandpa has finally been moved to a nursing home just a half hour away from our home and business.
He was thrilled to get out of the "concentration camp" rehab facility, but frustrated with an inability to understand that he cannot be left alone for any period of time. Due to that, our full time seven days a week no employees business will not allow us to care for him. He has been there for forty-eight hours and has already swung from looking as though he could pass in hours to sitting up and dining with the other residents and carrying on full conversations.
We've now embarked on the long winding road of Medicare and nursing homes and waiting, hoping, waiting. It is life. it is how things are for us now. It doesn't beg sympathy, though it does garner it from unexpected places. It brings tears and laughter and family we haven't seen for some time. It is life and life is how it is.
"Be well. Do good work. Keep in touch." - Garrison Keillor
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