Every time my Mom’s phone rings I cringe. I ask myself who it will be, what will have gone wrong, and has another member of my family died? Usually I can tell by the first few words she speaks in response to the caller. This past Saturday she received a call from the nursing home that my Grandmother is at. The side of the conversation I heard went something like this.
“Well what’s wrong?”
Caller speaks
“No, I’m there every day.”
Caller speaks
“My Mom doesn’t have cancer.”
When I heard the part about cancer I flipped. Had they been looking at the wrong charts. Did they not know my Dad died of cancer less than a year ago? Were they calling the wrong family to tell them their loved one was about to pass? Apparently the nurse apologized in regards to the cancer remark and moved along. She asked that the family come up to the home as she felt my Grandmother didn’t have much time left. I couldn’t help but continue to wonder if she just realize her mistake and had to cover her ass?
A few phone calls later and my entire family was at the home. I’ll interject here and mention that my immediate family had just spent the prior Thursday and Friday at a viewing and funeral for our uncle. When we arrived my Mom spoke to the nurse on duty. She couldn’t confirm the details that the nurse that called her had said. She said my Grandmother’s vitals were all still the same. She commented that she hadn’t eaten much in the last five days, but that wasn’t news. Mistake or not we were all there. Mistake or not she is still dying and isn’t in good shape at all.
I sat by her bed and couldn’t help but notice that her skin tone looks almost tan. I assume it’s due to her kidney failure, but her labored breathing had me focusing on another topic far too soon to think about it any further. She was a shell of the woman she once was. Her temples were sunken in, her small frame could barley supporting her 90 pounds. I prayed for my Dad to come get her. Prayed for her not to suffer longer than need be. I have never prayed before. This year I seem to do it all the time. It’s as if my family is dropping like flies, and the odd thing is that I’m calm about it. Seeing things for what they are I tend to have a different outlook on all of this. Observing the laws of life and love I tend to not become as bitter as most. I’ve learned that there is nothing big in life. As a matter of fact the most important things are very very small. I wish I could teach these lessons to others, but I know far too well that they are lessons that need to be learned on one’s own.
If ever you feel like life isn’t worth it, or that you can’t take it anymore. (It doesn’t matter what your “it” is) I encourage you to visit a nursing home. Take a look into the eyes of death and remind yourself over and over again that we only get one chance at this. Close your eyes and imagine the lives these people must have had. Do they have regrets? Does their family visit? Are you okay with ending up where they are now?
If the cancer bullet doesn’t hit you, your heart holds up, and a fatal accident isn’t in your future you just may end up in a nursing home. My feelings about all of it are still mixed. My Mom told me a story of how an employee at the nursing home was riding up with her on the elevator. He asked who she was there to see and she replied that she was there to see her Mother.
“Thank you.” He said.
She told him she should be thanking him. He replied by telling her that more often than not people get left there and their families never come back.
We are a country obsessed with wealth and beauty and we are very good at discarding the rest. My brother and I have made a pact that we will never put each other in a home. I’m contemplating the “live fast and die young” philosophy, but I’m living the “live fat and die miserable” one instead. We live in a constant change. Some of us can embrace it and other can’t let go of what was. I’m currently suffocated by change, and absolutely positive that nothing will ever be as it once was again.
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