Maga

today, i am overwhelmed by the image of my grandmother laying lifeless in the hospital bed they installed in her home 3 days before her passing.  it's so surreal.  i can't think of a time i had ever been so sad, felt like i had no control, been so scared, or felt so helpless in my life.

she passed on her birthday, November 4, 2013.  i had originally planned the day off to spend with her and my cousin; hoping to bake her a cake and cook dinner for her.  instead, i had to leave work early the friday prior to get to her quick because she had taken a turn for the worse. 

when i arrived, she sat slumped over on the couch in pain, but she managed to say "hey baby girl!" when i walked in.  i said "hey maga," when i walked in, but i was on a mission - i had to go buy sheets for the hospital bed that was being delivered in a few short hours, i had to go grocery shopping, i had to speak with hospice, i had to prepare myself mentally for what was to come that entire weekend.  when the nurse arrived, she spoke to my aunt and i about medications, comfort kits, how to keep maga comfortable, portable commodes, diapers, bed pads, bed sores, water-based lotions for her face, oxygen levels, nebulizer treatments...and finally "if she passes this weekend" suggestions - funeral homes, don't call the police or the fire department, DNR, "if she passes this weekend," "if she passes this weekend," "if she passes this weekend."  do you have any idea how badly i wanted to tell this woman to shut up?!?!?!  there was no way, she had broken her clavicle, THAT was causing the pain...NOT the cancer.  this was not happening this weekend.  finally, after all of her "what if's," i asked how POSSIBLE AND PROBABLE it was that she would pass.  "It's possible, but not probable."  at that moment, the difference between possible and probable did not matter, "possible" and all of it's innuendos flooded my brain and i went into mental overdrive.  "If anyone wants to see her, they need to come now."  alright then, we'll just fill the house with a few hundred people so they can say their last goodbyes...um no.  hospital bed arrived, portable commode arrived, and we got maga into the bed.

stephanie (little cousin) arrived and i probably should have prepared her for what she was walking into, but i really hadn't thought about that.  go me, right.  i had been taking pictures of maga every time we went to visit, because i wanted to see the progression...i mean, 6 months is a decent (well, not even close to decent, but i had accepted 6 months) amount of time and i wanted to record everything i could...but i did not show stephanie how bad it had gotten.  when she walked in those doors i had to sit down and numb myself up, because i knew within about 2 minutes she was going to come back out of that front door bawling her eyes out.  and she did.  i think that was the time i was meant to be most strong?  maybe, i don't know.  so we sat outside for a while, her crying and me staring into the street, holding her hand and quietly sending prayers out into the void, hoping some force would oblige.

after visits, cooking, trying to keep maga hydrated and fed, moving her from bed to commode and back to bed several times, holding her hand, changing her clothes, and more visits, Carter came to visit.  as soon as he walked in she lit up like the Northern Lights.  the maga i have always known.  she couldn't really muster up the strength to move, but she spoke to Carter, told us to get him a drink, some food...always hospitable, my sweet Maga.  soon the hospice nurse would arrive to insert the catheter (every time we moved her from bed to commode to bed we hurt her...this was the next step), but she wasn't really aware of much else other than Carter was sitting at the foot of her bed. nurse arrives, Carter departs, catheter is in, Maga is in pain. but ALAS! she whispered to steph that she was hungry. she hadn't eaten in days! when i heard that, i threw on my shoes (don't mind that i had basically been wearing the same clothes all weekend), asked Maga if she wanted shrimp salad (her fav) and she said so normally, "that sounds wonderful! i'd like that." i was in that car in 2 seconds flat and back in about 15 minutes. however, when i got back, she had fallen asleep. i figured she was worn out by the catheter insertion - any kind of movement exhausted her - so i held her hand, kissed her forehead, and put the salad in the fridge.

hours passed, she still hadn't woken up. i was starting to get worried, but kept telling myself "she's just tired, she'll wake up." more time passed, still sleeping. her breathing had changed so i filled the nebulizer with albuterol, held it up to her mouth, and let her just breathe it in. the nurse DID say that the nebulizer treatments would buy her more time and that the morphine would allow more oxygen to the brain. those things ran through my mind every time i made a move. dinner time came, still sleeping. panic was starting to set in, but if you know me at all, thats pretty normal. i'm such a worrier. we all cooked and talked, i was watching my Maga, silently begging her to hold on. we ate, cleaned up, sat down...still sleeping. i grabbed a chair and my crochet materials, planted myself next to her and crocheted a bit, talked with steph, called people...anything really to keep my mind off of what i knew was happening but couldn't quite admit to myself. around 11:45 pm I had moved to the floor next to her hospital bed, where i slept all weekend. i can't recall what was on the TV, for i was focused on the sound of her breathing, which had worsened. i stayed awake as long as i could...but i fell asleep.

i don't know what woke me up...the sound of her not breathing anymore, her spirit, the hum of the oxygen machine...but i woke up at 12:32 am on November 4, 2013. my eyes shot open, i looked at my phone, saw the time, shot up with the most insane amount of panic you could ever imagine feeling, to see a lifeless Maga. no breathing, no groaning, no moving. cold hands, blue lips, head tilted to the right. looking back with a rational mind, she looked peaceful...but in that moment, i was struck with guilt for falling asleep, for not being there to hold her sweet hand until her last breath. it was the most horrific moment of my life, to date. i touched her, panicked, screamed, and starting crying hysterically. thankfully, steph was calm and collective, she kept telling "she's not in pain, Kel. she's in a better place. she knows you love her, it's ok, calm down." but i couldn't. even now thinking about it, i cry uncontrollably.

the hospice nurse came in, removed the catheter, sat with us, talked to us, and waited for the funeral home director to come retrieve Maga and take her away.

i relive that weekend just about everyday. maybe i'm nuts, but i don't know how to stop it. i don't know when i'll be all the way ok. some days are better - i think about how funny she was, how strong she was, all of the good memories. others are terrible - i think about how i shouldn't have fallen asleep, i should have visited more, wrote her more emails, called her more often. i keep praying for forgiveness, praying for help to stop beating myself up...i haven't felt either yet.

i had to type it out, so that i could read it.  it took me about a month to write this. maybe that will help?

have a good day. cherish the ones you love. don't belittle their existence. don't take them for granted.