Death

I've been out of town for the last few days...

Most days have been spent with my dying grandfather. Now you may be thinking, are we not all dying? To which I respond, Yes, but not in the way that I've observed over the last few days. We (fat Americans) don't all die by starvation or dehydration unless my readership (all two of you) now lives in a famine stricken third world, sub-Saharan country. No, in a "recovery facility" (think nursing home) not far away for our nation’s capital, my grandfather lies in a state of suspended death. He is a 93 year old man who really can't or drink for himself but doesn't want heroic measures which will sustain his life. Heroic measures are life-sustaining IVs for hydration, feeding tubes, or ventilation.

I certainly don't feel heroic when I spoon food in to his mouth...pretty much against his will.

However, that is how the laws and policies of recovery facilities, Social Security and Medicare want it. No warehousing of old folks and progress towards life. Life? Really? Because, the only progress my grandfather should be making at this point is toward death. Its sounds horrible, but Sir, as I call him, physically cannot bring spoon or cup to mouth.

The shit of the situation is that my grandmother, Mormor, lives just a parking lot away from the recovery facility where my grandfather rests. Ironically, the food and "progress" that is required at the recovery facility is not required at Heatherwood where my grandma lives. However, Heatherwood, for liability reasons, won't allow my grandfather to come home to die (not eat and drink in the comfort of his own apartment.) Liability? Yes. Heatherwood is concerned that my grandfather will die in a fire if he cannot escape, which he can't, because he is not ambulatory. In another twist of irony, Sir's wish is to be cremated.

So here is the deal: My grandfather is a dying 93 year old man who doesn’t want heroic, life sustaining measures taken and is being forced to eat mushed food and thickened water. He is, at most, two weeks away from death but is forced to make progress towards life so that Medicare (which he has paid in to for 60 years) will cover his "recovery." He wants to die at home with his wife of almost 70 years, but can not because of liability at his apartment concerning his inability to get up and escape a fire on foot. In the end he wants to be cremated, which is exactly what Heatherwood fears will be their liability exposure.

Folks, I contributed to all of this in that I handled the spoon and cup, which brought the sustaining food and water to his mouth. I don't regret what I've done. But, I do recognize that there is a very fine line between the spoon and the IV. The fine line between spoon and IV exists between his recovery and my desire to prevent loss; life and death, and death and dignity.