Lots of Veterans in our family. Ralph, my dad, Bobby and Pop are Navy, Big Ed, Rocco and Lou are Marines, George and George are Army. Ralph is at a Memorial Day ceremony now.
Sam is not doing well. Last night she called me 12 times in an hour while I wasn't home, to say that her phone wasn't working. When I called her back she knew something wasn't right. I called Hospice, and the nurse met us there. They changed her meds a little.
This morning her hospice nurse called, and I met her at Sam's. Lou said they were up til 4 a.m., and she fell in the bathroom. She was still somewhat confused, but sleepy. The nurse assessed her, which she dozed during, so we left them both asleep. Sam is looking weak and gray, but insistent that she will pass at home. I don't think it will be long, and I hope for her sake it isn't.
Sam has always been a private person, and it's so hard for her to have the constant parade of people thru the house. She was always the care giver, of her mom, aunt, and dad, and Lou, that it's hard for her to accept being taken care of. She's so apologetic when she asks for anything.
I know I'm too close to the situation for any objectivity. Ralph and Barbara and my physician friend Tom are doing the objectivity part for me, I'm just trying to follow her wishes. Four of the dogs and the cat have gone to their new homes, and when she passes I just have to make a phone call for the little dog to go to her new home. The wonderful hospice nurse took Freebe, the 23 year old cat, home with her. Who ever heard of a 23 year old cat!
It's been a 10 year battle since she was diagnosed, and I see the end of the road being in sight. I've been telling her that it's OK to go, that her Mom is waiting for her, and we'll be OK. Between us all we'll care for Lou and follow his wishes, and her plans.
When we were younger we used to joke about Death, and how we had our copy of The Final Exit handy. It's not so funny anymore.