The End?

Grandpa D's *possible* end-of-life experience has been quite a ride, as is most people's.  For the first couple days I was in town, my family struggled to convince the nursing home personnel that Grandpa does indeed seem to be entering his end-of-life phase.  His doctor, who visited every other day for about 30 seconds without viewing Grandpa's chart, has been very "encouraged" by Grandpa's "progress."  He's confident Grandpa will make a full recovery from pneumonia, bladder cancer and kidney failure.  The rest of us are skeptical.  Aunt Pat even went so far as to say "I disagree."  This seemed to catch the good doctor off guard, and his visits have since become more infrequent and as if it were possible, even shorter.   

In our own way, we've each been trying to feel Grandpa out and see if he thinks it's the end.  Some of us are bolder than others and have outright asked him.  Until today his response has been "not just yet."  

Today however, he told Aunt Pat he reckons it might be, and that he's ready to go with Jesus and see Uncle Mike and cousin Jeremy.  Grandpa said he supposes he'll have to play a little poker with them all.  You can imagine the tears my family shed over that.  One by one, we each went in and had a few moments alone with Grandpa.  I cried the entire time, simply holding his hand, unable to speak.  I've already said everything I need to say anyway.

Everyone agonized whether to go home or wait out the night.  One by one, everyone left with instructions to call if anything happens.  Grandma and I elected to stay.  She and Grandpa both fell asleep, but I've been wide awake all night.  Adrenaline kicking in, as I *check Facebook, knit a few rows, attempt to read but close the book when I can't seem to understand the words, tiptoe down the hall to check on Grandpa, check Facebook again, knit a few more rows, wander the halls, chit chat with staff about knitting, check on Grandpa again.  Repeat from * until dizzy.

On one of my Grandpa-checks, he was awake.  I smiled in his eyes and rubbed his arm, which felt cool to the touch.  I was immediately on alert knowing one of the first signs of The Official End is less blood flow to the extremities, resulting in hands and arms feeling cool.  Grandpa slowly croaked out "I gotta do what I gotta do."  My heart sank.  I fought back tears, so afraid of what he might mean.  It took a few seconds to get myself under control.  "What do you have to do, Grandpa?"

"I gotta poop."