Grief Never Ends, Part 2

My mental illness has had its ups and downs but I managed through outpatient and inpatient treatment, an assortment of different psychiatric drugs, and eventually realizing that this was my new normal and applying for disability. I became more and more stable and able to take care of my mental health on my terms. It was almost as if every time I caught my breath, there was a loss to quickly take it once again. I was learning this new normal, however, there is always a catch and in September of 2015, I found myself once again on the brink of losing someone I never thought I would, my grandma. 

My grandma had been hospitalized earlier that year with pneumonia. They treated her, sent her home and she thought she was better. When September rolled around, she found herself once again in the hospital with what she thought was pneumonia. After being transferred to another hospital to have her lungs cleaned out, she discovered that she had a mass on her lung. It had been there most likely since the last time she was in the hospital but it had not been seen. They came up with a treatment plan and it included very large amounts of chemotherapy. They cautioned her that this intense chemotherapy could be deadly. I questioned the doctor about how effective the treatment would be and how much time it would give her. After hearing that it would possibly only extend her life at the most year longer, my grandma took one chemo treatment and went home on hospice. My mom (a throat cancer survivor herself), took care of grandma and the rest of the family chipped in where we could. 

Grandma lost all her hair from that one chemo treatment and was mostly bedridden. Once the chemo was out of her system, she seemed to rebound a little, but unfortunately, it wasn't long-lasting. Again, family and friends from all over came to spend time with her as much as they could. On Halloween, we gathered, made chili, and brought three of her great-grandkids (me and my sister's children) to see her in their costumes before we headed out for some trick-or-treating. Grandma was barely there at this point, but seeing her smile at her great-grandkids was a tremendous treat. By the end of the evening, my kids went with their dad and the rest of us stood vigil and tried to make grandma as comfortable as possible. The liquid pain meds that she so desperately wanted to avoid taking were given because she couldn't stand the pain and we all kept close. 

After a long evening of trying to keep the kids happy and be there for grandma, the five of us sat down to make ourselves eat something. We cooked some frozen pizzas and gathered around the table. We ate, and told stories, and laughed until we cried. We got caught up in the moment until my aunt mentioned that someone should check on grandma. Of course, I jumped up to do so as I often found myself trying to take care of everyone. I ran into the other room to check on her, but before I even entered her room, I stopped. I stopped because I was trying to steady myself because it appeared that her chest was no longer rising and falling. I stopped and I stared for a moment and when everyone else noticed they jumped up too. She was indeed not breathing and we all surrounded her, hugging and crying. She was gone. It had been five weeks since she was diagnosed with lung cancer and she was gone. 

My sister was somewhat inconsolable for a while, as she blamed herself for grandma dying alone. We all sat and laughed and ate, while my grandma allowed herself to move on. It became evident that is exactly what she wanted. She heard our laughter and she knew we would be okay. She found herself at peace and was ready to move on. We were not ready. I was not ready. My grandma was my rock. She was not only my grandma but my mom, my best friend, and my confidant. She was everything to me and was the kind of person I wanted to be. She was gone. We were devastated and I once again built up that wall so everyone could lean on me. 

A year had passed since I lost my grandma, and once again, I was faced with something that I never thought I would have to experience. We lived with my in-laws and this particular Saturday morning started as many of our Saturday mornings did. I sat at the kitchen table with coffee, a cigarette, and my phone. My mother-in-law woke up not too long after me and got her a cup of coffee. She sat in the chair next to me and started complaining that she had a strange pain in her throat. She was a little of a hypochondriac and I shrugged it off at first, but the next thing she said worried me. She said her chest hurt. She had heart issues and I began to worry something was wrong. I asked her if she needed to take nitroglycerin and she said she didn't have any. I had some and quickly ran to get her one. I woke my fiancé and told him of the issues and what I was doing. I ran back to her and gave her the pill and she took it. She immediately complained that she felt ill. She said she was going to throw up. I ran across the kitchen to grab her a bowl and before I could return to her, she threw up all over the floor and said words I will never to this day forget, she said: "I'm going to die."

She started to collapse onto the for and I grabbed her arm to try to keep her from falling. My fiancé had run in and was able to catch her from behind as we eased her onto the floor and called 911. I could tell she wasn't going to make it but the operator instructed us on how to do compressions. He started, then me. I could feel her ribs cracking from the pressure I was putting on her chest and then the operator instructed me to give her one strong breath into her mouth. I placed my fingers on her nose and tried to give her mouth to mouth. We went back to compressions until the ambulance arrived. When they arrived a police officer ushered us into the living room while they worked on her. I could hear the sound of the flatline on the monitor and it was only a few short moments until they came to inform us that she was gone. They called it a "cardiac event" but were unsure what happened. It was the most sudden, traumatic death I have ever experienced. 

The fallout from that death was brutal. The grieving process was brutal. Every single thing about it was intense and chaotic. My fiancé lost his mom. He lost the one person that had meant the most to him his entire life and he choked back tears to be strong for his dad. Regardless of the absolute tragedy her death was, life didn't stop. We had to keep moving because life was not going to wait for us to grieve, and death wouldn’t wait very long either.