Love Me Tender
Week One:
It is 1:04AM and I’m on the night shift. I guess it’s not really the night shift when you’re one of the primary caregivers of a sick relative. Correction: dying relative. I deal a lot with death and dying working as a social worker, but no amount of exposure or studying will ever prepare you for when it happens to you. So here I am, sitting in the recliner chair that has been my bed for much of the past week awaiting the sleepless night ahead of me. I’ve increased the oxygen levels and broken out the emergency meds from the comfort pack so now I just wait and pray it won’t be another bad night.
Death is not a concept I am unfamiliar with. Unfortunately, I’ve lost several people in my life. Dying, on the other hand, is a new uncharted territory for me. Somehow I’ve managed to experience the deaths of several loved ones yet have never experienced the dying process. Until now.
My grandmother “Nanny” is one of the most amazing women I know. She is sassy, funny, loving, selfless, and has the biggest heart of any person I’ve ever met. But the fact of the matter is that now she is also dying. I first found out Nanny would be going onto hospice on August 9th. After spending most weekends with her over the past 3 months and watching her decline, I wasn’t exactly surprised, but I was heart broken, devastated really. 6 months (or less) is just not enough time.
Fast forward to two weeks later and here I am, sitting in this recliner watching as my grandmother sleeps next to me, counting her breaths and terrified of what is to come. At the age of 26, I never imagined I would soon be coming face to face with one of my worst fears: saying goodbye to a woman who has shaped my life in more ways than she will ever know. I also never would have imagined that at 26, I would be one of the people caring for her during these delicate moments.
Being a caretaker of a hospice patient is no easy feat. When that patient is your loved one, it is damn near impossible. I used to be a hospice intern and dealt with countless dying patients, but to see it, to experience it and feel it for myself is the most humbling experience of my life and an experience people don’t talk about enough.
Over the past week, I have dedicated myself to taking care of my grandmother. I knew it would be both physically and emotionally draining but did not hesitate to call out of work, cancel my plans, and step up for this role. I was quick to find there is no worse feeling in the world than watching someone you love so much in such a vulnerable state. But you do it anyway because your love for them is stronger than any of your worries or anxieties or reservations. And you remind yourself that the pain and fear you’re experiencing is in no way compared to the pain and fear of your dying loved one.
Looking back on the past week, this has quite possibly been one of the most emotionally draining weeks of my life. (And this is coming from a girl who has experienced her fair share of emotionally draining weeks in her lifetime.) The sense of panic every time she stirs in bed or the fear that I’ll never see her again every time I walk out the door. Spending my days monitoring oxygen levels and breathing, managing medications, coordinating with caregivers and nurses, changing bed positions, and creating care logs all the while trying to emotionally support my family, remember to eat, and hold myself together. I’ve cried a lot and learned a lot and watched a lot of old Elvis movies. And FYI I brushed my hair yesterday for the first time in a week and wore the same outfit for 5 days in a row. This is the reality of being a caregiver.
Despite the emotional hardship and severe lack of sleep, I have never felt closer to my grandmother in my entire life. Nor have I ever felt more admiration and love for this incredibly strong woman who even in pain and discomfort manages with such grace and dignity. She is the true fighter in all of this. I am honored to share this journey with my grandmother and feel so blessed to have this woman in my life, even if only for a little longer. Everyone keeps asking: But isn’t it too much for you? Are you sure you want to do this? And my answer is always yes. My Nanny has supported me and loved me and carried me through the first 26 years of my life. Now, it’s my turn to support and love and carry her through for the remainder of hers.
And in the words of Nanny’s favorite song by her favorite heartthrob Elvis: “Love me tender, love me sweet, never let me go. You have made my life complete, and I love you so.” Love you always, Nanners.
