February 7, 2019 § 1 Comment
The last words that my husband spoke in a language I understand. His head was hanging low, too heavy to hold upright, close to his chest. Slumped in a wheelchair, I did not recognize him from across the room. In the dementia care unit, there are many men in rolling chairs and with his recent illness, his appearance fit right into the line up. This is our photo taken on December 4th, 2018.On December 17th, 2018 he was admitted to the hospital with a GI bleed. The doctors told me that they could not fix it and that he would never walk again. They gave him a blood transfusion and some intravenous medicine. He did not improve. I thought that I might have to kidnap to get him back to his room at the residential facility but when I signed him up for hospice care, the hospital was eager to get him discharged, knowing that whatever was wrong with him, they could not diagnose due to dementia. The staff, his residential family, was so excited to have him home and I was relieved that I was not alone. He was energized by the warmth of their heart-felt greetings.
Less than four weeks later, he died with the same symptoms that the hospital could not fix. He was very sick that day. I asked everyone to leave his room and pulled a chair along side his bed. Holding his hand tightly in mine, he slept peacefully. As his breathing slowed, he released my hand and I knew that he had passed. Just the two of us, the way it was supposed to be. A last breath. I will never forget this.
Life is a gift. It takes courage to love. May his memory be a blessing, a blessing on you, dear readers, to live your life fully, with passion. Value every day. Do not waste what you’ve been given. Life is fragile.