It is no surprise that I thrive on order and routine. If something might happen I want a plan of action. So when Grandmother fell I was able to put one foot in front of the other: we call hospice, we call paramedics, I follow the ambulance to the hospital, we sit by her bedside and wait for the diagnosis. We wait for further instructions.
And then we come home.
And nothing has been routine or orderly since. Not a damn thing. And every time something is off or different I feel paralyzed with fear and anxiety. I feel my feet stuck in the carpet and my mind frozen.
The worst sound in the world is the sound that GM makes when she is in pain. She is unable to talk, unable to show us where it hurts. She moans in escalating tones and whimpers and weeps. Wailing sounds that I have never heard before. Even in sleep, as her mouth falls agape and the rush of air flows out, when she draws air in it makes a sound that sounds like, “oh”.
My Grandmother is in pain and it physically makes me ill.
We have medication to help the pain and we administer it together, huddled next to her bed, watching and crying. The pain has put GM into a cycle of life that is so off balance. She hurts, we give her pain relief medication, and then she is void and vapid for hours and hours and hours. We don’t want her to hurt at ALL, but in taking the pain away it feels like it takes her away too.
There is no step by step guide for this moment in our lives. We have no way of knowing what our new normal is. All we seem to do is rush in and tip toe out. Not being able to pick GM up and cradle her in our arms, not being able to talk to her, convey our love and know that she receives it. It feel like stretched and fragile glass.
This is really hard.
