I Won't Leave You Mikey

When Gram was first placed at ManorCare on September 14, 2011, my family and I were convinced she was placed there to die.  She had just spent 3 weeks at UPMC Passavant in the ICU and was recovering from both a C-diff and a urinary tract infection.  She was in a bad way – lifeless, almost unconscious.  While she was in the hospital, I was called twice by her PCP and told she would not make it through the night.  “She’s more dead than alive,” her doctor told me once; “She’s made a decision to go,” she said another time.  “I’m sorry,” she said to a blubbering me who had to muster up every ounce of strength to maintain even a little bit of composure at work where I took the calls.  I failed, of course.  I spent a couple nights at the hospital, wondering when and how I would lose my Gram – the person that I was terrified of losing since I was a young child and first understood what death meant.  I had never been able to imagine my life without her.  I still can’t.

It was a tough night getting Gram settled in that night.  The bed in her room was an oversized model and it was broken.  It seemed the place was understaffed and we waited what seemed like forever to get a new bed. Aida, the nurse, was there that night, I remember.  Sandy, one of Gram’s favorite aides was, too.  With their help, we finally got her into a working bed and settled.  She slept.

The next night, September 15, the most amazing thing happened.  The following conversation took place and it struck me at the deepest place in my soul and it moved me such that I will take it to my own grave.  I’m also so happy that it took place.

It was just the 2 of us in her room, which was lit with only the light above her bed.  It was very quiet and I was attempting to feed her dinner.  She was very weak and barely awake, but for the first time in a long time, she was completely coherent.  (Most of my life, I called her "Mum" as did most people. "Gram" came about more recently.)

Gram (moaning):  “I have a lot of things wrong with me, Mike.  I don’t want to live anymore.  I wish I was dead.”

Me (after a pause and mustering up strength):  “Well, you know, Mum, its ok if you want to die.  You don’t have to keep living.”

Gram:  “I won’t leave you Mikey.”

Me (sobbing and trying to hide it from her):  “Its ok. I’m ok.  I’ll be okay.  I’ll take care of everything. You don’t have to worry about me...or anything.”

Gram (after a little pause):  “So, I don’t have to worry about dying?”

Me:  “No, Mum, you don’t have it worry about dying.  It’s ok.  Everything will be ok.”

Me:  “You know I love you, right?”

Gram:  “Yeah, me too.”

Gram (sighing):  “Ok, Mike.”  (Pause)  “Night, Mike.”

Me (kissing her forehead):  “Good Night, Mum.  I love you.”

Gram: “I love you too, Mike.”

She peacefully went back to sleep.   I sat quietly with her for a while before I left.  I expected her to die that night.  I couldn’t sleep at all as I kept waiting for the call.  She didn’t.

Gram really needed to have that conversation that night.   I know that.  She needed to know that I would be ok.  It was always important for her to take care of me and make sure I was ok.  She did that night.