Waiting

This weekend was not necessarily an easy one by any means.  We did have our good moments, including T kicking some major butt at the Monumental Half Marathon in Indy (totally proud of him!) and celebrating my Dad's birthday.  But something weighed on my mind all weekend. 

 

 

I don't like having negative post following another negative post.  But we did get some bad news this weekend about my Grandpa.  My family found this out earlier in the week, but my Mom was concerned about how to tell me with concerns about my heart and blood pressure.  But on Friday, I was told that Hospice has officially taken over care of my Grandpa.  We've talked about it for awhile, but they were holding off until we got word from his doctors that it was necessary.  They ran blood work on him last week, and the toxin levels in his liver are at levels that are at a crisis level.   Normal is somewhere around 5-26, and his are at 126.  He has also began to receive less and less oxygen in his blood, level purple marks all over his body.  He is at a Stage 2 feeding, meaning he has to be fed instead of feeding himself.  So Hospice has been called to come and make him as comfortable as possible and help ease the pain as best they can as he spends his final days.  We still don't know just how long that will be.  That part is the thing that I hate.

 

 

We went to church on Saturday evening, and I did as I have been for works.  I prayed to God to let him go.  I pray every week that this is the week when he passes.  Don't get me wrong.  I don't want to lose my Grandpa by any means.  I love him more than he'll ever know, and I don't want to lose him.  But I don't want this suffering to go on.  It's gone on too long.  This isn't the way I know he'd want to be.  He wants to go home.  Be with my Grandma.  Be at peace.  We all want that for him.  I found myself with tears running down my face praying that God takes this from him.  He has been through enough. 

 

 

I struggle with the decision, now that we know things have taken a sharp turn for the worse, to go see him.  The last time I saw him was in July.  My Mom made the statement that I said my good-byes to him.  I tried to think of when I saw him last.  Did I really say good bye?  Was it good enough?  Was it that kind of good bye where he knows that I love him and I will miss him all the time?  Would seeing him one more time give me that closer?  He's at the point now where he's hardly aware of who is there and can't speak.  So I'm not sure if seeing him once more would be for me more than it would be for him. 

 

 

The main reason why this decision is such a big struggle is my health.  The stress.  I have to lower it.  My blood pressure, thankfully, has started to lower from the medicine.  But medicine can only do so much.  My Mom's main concern was that it would cause too much stress on me to see him in the state he is in.  And she's right.  I know it would.  Taking my blood pressure about an hour after speaking with her, it was up.  God knows how it would be if I saw him again and witnessed first hand just how badly he has deteriorated.  My Mom said that I had to think of myself first.  And my baby.  And she said that he wouldn't want me to put my health at risk if he knew what was going on.  But still.  It's hard because I just don't know.  Will I regret not saying good bye? 

 

 

My heart hurts for what he's going through and for what my Mom and her brothers and sister are going through.  I wish I knew how long this is going to last.  I wish I could control it and make it happen quickly and as painlessly as possible for him.  But it's not in my hands.  All I can do is pray and wait.  Just hopefully not too long.