Early this morning he died, I held his had as he did. For the past 9 days he was in what the in-home hospice professionals called as the transitional stage. Basically its where the person is about to die. That part was the hardest because he couldn't move, couldn't speak, his mind was failing him, he wasn't hungry or thirsty so it was hard to watch him waste away and not be able to fix him. My mother and I just kind of always figured he would die from his more prominent medical conditions than old age, I mean I have known this could happen even when my grandmother used the same service but we just never saw him going this way. Always just kind of assumed we would find that he went in his sleep or from a heart attack(he has heart disease). He lived way longer than what any doctor told him(20 years) so it was a really good assumption. It was hard to go in his room and see him fiddling with his blankets yelling out because he is just so anxious and really couldn't do anything else. All we could do was give him some liquid medication to make him comfortable. The watching and waiting was worse than his actual death because we know how uncomfortable he was and how we would have hated that. His only wish was not to die with strangers so we were able to give him that. The day he really went down hill exactly 9 days ago he knew that he was dying and his mind was failing, he couldn't get it all out in words so he grabbed his TV remote pointed it to his head and kept repeating "Reprogram" I will never forget that moment it was so heart breaking. The funny thing about all this is I have been making myself stay up until like 2-3am every night for the past 9 days, just something in me kept saying that I just needed to. Even how tired I was I did anyway so I could check on my grandpa, the night he died it was about 1am when I was getting ready for bed and I noticed something was different with him. I thought maybe this was it or maybe I should get my mom but I didn't I just sat on the bed with him and held his hand, stroked his head, wiped some tears and drool. I just didn't want to get her because I would never forgive myself if he died that few minutes I was gone. 10 minutes later he did.
Sorry I know this isn't anything related to lupus but I just needed to write that out. My mother is not a good place and my sister doesn't want to hear it and I don't really have any friends close enough to talk about this with. I'm only running on 4 hours of sleep still and since I have done all the preparations after his death I know my lupus is going to kick my bodies but soon. My mind won't shut down yet so i'm pretty sure I will be sick tomorrow. Though i'm not looking forward for tomorrow because my mother and I haven't informed my aunts and cousins that we had decided to donate his body to science. Personally my mother and I think it's a good program and that his death can at least have some contribution after his death and thats how my mother and I would like after we die. But the main reason is when we realized after my grandmothers death that she only paid for my grandfathers plot and head stone and told no body we didn't and couldn't come up with the money for a burial. This program allows his death to serve some good(it's not organ donation), they will take care of all the costs of transportation, death certificates, and most importantly after 4-6 weeks they will cremate and send it back to us. So in the end we can have an option of having a small memorial. Since his body will be in Dallas in the morning there is little they can do and they are not his biological or adopted so my mother is the only legal heir. As cruel as this sounds we just couldn't handle telling them when he was still alive, I know they don't have the money either, especially my very verbally abusive aunt while having to deal with the stress of my grandfathers end of life.