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6 months....

It was 6 months ago today that my grandfather passed away.

He'd raised me like I was his son, and I thought of him like a father.

2 years ago he was diagnosed with Interstital Pulmonary Fibrosis, a disease in which scar tissue forms inside the lung, making breathing difficult and painful.  There is no cure.  Steroids and gamma interferon help, but they have very nasty side effects (and interferon costs about $500 per dose)

At first, he didn't let the disease bother him, he'd continue to try to do all the things he'd done before.   But it wasn't long before even simple, everyday tasks became difficult work.  Eventually he required my assistance for everything.  His inability to fend for himself probably bothered him more than the pain and difficulty breathing.

Six months ago to the day, I was wheeling him from the bathroom back into his bedroom.  When I tried to help him into bed, I noticed he'd become unresponsive.  I physically lifted him into bed, and noticed his breathing had slowed.  I knew his wishes; if I called the paramedics, they would be legally required to do everything possible to save him; he didn't want that.  I ran and got my grandmother, and we sat there next to him, holding his hands as he passed away.

I think his was the best possible death, quiet, peaceful, in his own bed, in his own home, with his loved ones at his side.  He was no longer in pain, he no longer had to feel he was a burden to others.

God, I still miss him so much.


( 4 pieces of cheese — Leave some cheese )
Nov. 14th, 2004 06:29 pm (UTC)
Nov. 14th, 2004 06:47 pm (UTC)
*HUG* He looks to have been a great man, Captain. I share your loss with you.
Nov. 14th, 2004 10:42 pm (UTC)
The death of a close loved one is difficult to console, and perhaps it shouldn't be consoled, as the grieving process is as much an act of love as anything we would have done for them in life. There isn't a single day that goes by that I don't grieve for my parents and my grandmother. But along with my grief is something even more painful - regret. You see, unlike you, I wasn't there for any of my loved ones when the end came. They all died alone. For all the things they did for me and gave me, when they needed me the most, I failed them, and for that, I will feel the pain of regret for the rest of my life. So I guess there is consolation - and salvation - for you, in that you know you did all you could for your grandfather and you were there when he needed you. That will never totally ameliorate your loss, but at least you will not suffer the additional pain of regret...
Nov. 23rd, 2004 05:57 am (UTC)

God, I still miss him so much.

Sometimes our loved ones go and come back.
Sometimes our loved ones go and never return.
Sometimes our loved ones go and it hurts so we want to furget.
Sometimes our loved ones live with us furever in our hearts.

GP is the latter
SO is the former
Our ghosts are in-between.

Deepest sympathies and respects from one who is ever grateful to GP fur ewe and will return.

( 4 pieces of cheese — Leave some cheese )