Blasphemous Rumors

The Gods and Goddesses. They have a sick sense of humor, and I can’t say I’m complaining.

Today was a hard day. Grandma is dying, and every day we kind of sit back and wait for the call. She’s in a medicine-induced coma to prevent seizures as a result of the multiple strokes she suffered earlier in the week. Selfishly, I want her back, but we all have realized and faced that she’s not coming back – not like she was, and so it’s time for her to move on. And you, Powers that Be, whoever you are, I know we don’t talk much, but won’t you hear me now? Take her. She’s ready.

Today, we went to see her for the last time with the rest of the family. Adam’s brother and his wife came in from Syracuse (brr!) and we all spent the day with his aunt and Grandpa by her bedside in the nursing home, all of us hanging together against the cold. She can’t see us or acknowledge us, but she knows we’re there, somehow, I just know she does.

Nursing homes are heartbreaking. It doesn’t seem fair that at the end of your life you don’t get some sort of golden reward, or laughter and joy – or any of the things you fucking deserve after 80-something years of taking care of other people. You get to sit in a bed and wait for death, too many of us without family or friends. And before you die, you are coddled and treated as a child – as if you haven’t experienced more hardships, challenges and joyful moments than any of us can possibly understand.

Today, we heard some of the activities in the day room next to Grandma’s suite. A large gathering of wheelchaired pseudo-convalescents were parked in various areas around the room while a smiley, odd little man WHO DID NOT SPEAK OR UNDERSTAND ENGLISH (I later learned he was Korean) attempted to get them to sing songs such as, “Bicycle Built for Two,” and “Michael Row Your Boat Ashore.” From the sounds of it, he was the only one singing.

I’m telling you, it’s not right. People deserve better at the end of their lives than to sit drooling in front of an overenthusastic foreign volunteer attempting to sing archaic folk songs.

Grandpa’s had a hard year. Watching the love of your life suffer has got to be the most gutwrenching pain in the world. You know how the kindness and sorrow of others is almost worse than your own pain? I think we were hard for him to see today. Our presence today brought him to tears more than once. During a particularly maudlin moment, we all sat in silence, the tears streaming down our faces, overwhelmed with the anguish of it all.

And then it happened.

“GOoooood Breesssst ARMERRRIIICAAAAARRR. RAAAND RAT I ROOOOOVE!”

And we all put our hands on our hearts and sang along, laughing through our tears.

God Breast Armericar, indeed.

7 comments July 9th, 2005