I Won’t Leave You Mikey
When Gram was first placed at ManorCare on September 14,
2011, my family and I were convinced she was placed there to die. She had just spent 3 weeks at UPMC Passavant
in the ICU and was recovering from both a C-diff and a urinary tract
infection. She was in a bad way –
lifeless, almost unconscious. While she
was in the hospital, I was called twice by her PCP and told she would not make
it through the night. “She’s more dead
than alive,” her doctor told me once; “She’s made a decision to go,” she said another
time. “I’m sorry,” she said to a
blubbering me who had to muster up every ounce of strength to maintain even a
little bit of composure at work where I took the calls. I failed, of course. I spent a couple nights at the hospital,
wondering when and how I would lose my Gram – the person that I was terrified
of losing since I was a young child and first understood what death meant. I had never been able to imagine my life
without her. I still can’t.
It was a tough night getting Gram settled in that
night. The bed in her room was an
oversized model and it was broken. It
seemed the place was understaffed and we waited what seemed like forever to get
a new bed. Aida, the nurse, was there that night, I remember. Sandy, one of Gram’s favorite aides was, too. With their help, we finally got her into a working bed and
settled. She slept.
The next night, September 15, the most amazing thing happened. The following conversation took place and it
struck me at the deepest place in my soul and it moved me such that I will take
it to my own grave. I’m also so happy
that it took place.
It was just the 2 of us in her room, which was lit with only
the light above her bed. It was very
quiet and I was attempting to feed her dinner.
She was very weak and barely awake, but for the first time in a long
time, she was completely coherent. (Most of my life, I called her "Mum" as did most people. "Gram" came about more recently.)
Gram (moaning): “I
have a lot of things wrong with me, Mike.
I don’t want to live anymore. I
wish I was dead.”
Me (after a pause and mustering up strength): “Well, you know, Mum, its ok if you want to
die. You don’t have to keep living.”
Gram: “I won’t leave
you Mikey.”
Me (sobbing and trying to hide it from her): “Its ok. I’m ok. I’ll be okay.
I’ll take care of everything. You don’t have to worry about me...or
anything.”
Gram (after a little pause):
“So, I don’t have to worry about dying?”
Me: “No, Mum, you
don’t have it worry about dying. It’s
ok. Everything will be ok.”
Me: “You know I love
you, right?”
Gram: “Yeah, me too.”
Gram (sighing): “Ok,
Mike.” (Pause) “Night, Mike.”
Me (kissing her forehead):
“Good Night, Mum. I love you.”
Gram: “I love you too, Mike.”
She peacefully went back to sleep. I sat quietly with her for a while before I
left. I expected her to die that
night. I couldn’t sleep at all as I kept
waiting for the call. She didn’t.
Gram really needed to have that conversation that night. I know that.
She needed to know that I would be ok.
It was always important for her to take care of me and make sure I was
ok. She did that night.
No comments:
Post a Comment