News from Hospice

The moment that I have been fighting all week has arrived. The sun is peeking through my blinds, tapping me to wakefulness and I should be off to work to finish reports before interviewing applicants for my undergraduate university. But no, I am immobilized by the fear of death, it's certainty, and I erupt into tears. I have a day, commitments, promises to be kept with grace and enthusiasm - but how? Where does that come from?

My grandmother who has been sick most of her life was diagnosed with cancer five years ago to the season. My beautiful, beautiful, grandmother, her body riddled with tumors, the very act of breathing painful. Sometimes she greets me at the door, shuffling around the kitchen in pink socks and slippers, oatmeal cookies in the oven, a freshly baked cake on the table. Other days, the house is motionless, she is in bed cozied up with her oxygen, death waiting silently in the darkness.

My mother's parents moved in with her shortly after her divorce and have lived with her ever since. Until I left for college, we all lived together. I go back home almost every weekend.

Hospice has been coming for a while now. This week, the nurse came and then called for backup. Two more officious women came and spoke to my grandmother about wrapping things up. Told my mother, "You do realize she may not rally again." Like she's the stock market. The thing is no matter what they say it's off color. There is no nice way to tell someone that death is gaining on the person they love.

I didn't want to tell my sister this because I didn't want to upset her. Each of us are barely clinging to sanity. The thing is, we already know this, it's not breaking news, we are witnessing her transition. We are consistently present. I told her anyway, because I would want to know. Of course, she put her world on pause and drove up. Last night, we talked into the wee hours of the morning outside the house in my car. It was a good chat. I think I needed it more than her.