Who'd have guessed that it would be possible for this to get worse?
Just so we're on the same page, I didn't realize yesterday that "hospice" care here, means somebody comes in every two hours to adjust the bedding, administer morphine and check blood pressure. I thought there would be someone here, someone helping, someone caring for her.
There is, it's just me.
My brother got here today. We laid on each side of her, snuggling as she said, "just let me go, let me go home." We told her she could, but she is still hanging in there. The morphine comes once an hour and double the dosage now.
I take back what I said yesterday, listening to the woman who raised you, who taught you grace and dignity and sarcasm and everything good about life - listening to her begging to die, is the crappiest I have ever felt.
This has always been one of my favorite pictures of Gramma, but it means so much more now. I hope that very soon, she has my dad at her side again, and is throwing her head back laughing in the wind.
(My aunt can stay here though if it's all the same.)