In a State of Wishy-Washy
I say that my Grandad is in a state of "whishy washy"-ness....hospice calls it a see-saw decline. I, personally, like my diagnosis better. I have a love/hate relationship with hospice. They sersiously give my Grandad a death sentence (that's what I call it, not them) every month. It's crazy. Seriously crazy. However, he was issued his April death sentence last week. I rolled my eyes....whatever. Then Wednesday happened. To spare all the nitty gritty details........the man who lives upstairs is not my Grandad anymore...well, not really....he is a shell of my Grandad. He has aged at least 10 years in the past year that we've lived here. He has lost the ability to do a lot of simple things that he was able to do a month ago. Including feeding himself. His mind is sooo very slow its not my Grandad. For those that know my Grandad you know that isn't him. It takes him FOREVER to respond to you. Crazy! Anyhow, Friday hospice told us that he has anywhere from a few days to a few weeks. He is in heart failure and has a wound that indicates he's in the end stage of life.....like the very very end stage. Its crazy to watch. I keep thinking that he's gonna be the exception to the rule.....that the wound will get better and he'll miraculously recover......again. It wouldn't really surprise me if he did. But, we're told that does not happen. So, we wait......we wait for him to pass from this life to the next. So freaking weird.