Sunday, March 28, 2010


I am writing this post with a sad, heavy heart. My Gram has been in the hospital for the last couple weeks. She went in because she was having chest pain and difficulty breathing. They told her she'd need a valve replacement, and a couple other procedures done to hear heart. The doctors said she had had rheumatic fever when she was younger, and it caused one of her valves to become thin and weak over time. I guess with her old age, the weak valve finally caught up with her. She also found out that she had some buildup in her arteries, and they were going to clean those out... basically it would have been almost like open-heart surgery. For an 80 year old, I don't know how well she would have fared after sustaining such a huge blow to her body. Well, her body decided to take a different route, and her ammonia levels started to rise. She became basically unconscious, and was pretty unresponsive for a couple of days. We were told that she probably wasn't going to make it, and to be prepared for her to pass away. Then, they got the ammonia levels under control. She finally was awake and coherent, and was able to talk to everyone. She began physical therapy this past week, and seemed to be making progress; although it made her extremely tired. Then at the end of this week, things started to take a turn for the worse yet again. My one aunt called my dad because my Gram was saying that she was ready to go, and that she didn't want to live anymore. My parents made the trip from Lancaster to Pittsburgh to see her. She seemed fine; she was talking, was awake and lucid, and even wanted to talk to myself and my little munchkin yesterday. Her desire was to hear my baby girl sing to her. She sounded weak, but still sounded like my Gram. To me, there was still a glimmer of hope that she would recoup, and would get to go home.

I guess her desire to talk to everyone yesterday was her final goodbye. My dad called this morning, and said that Gram is in her final stages of life. Last night, the ammonia levels shot back up, she's unconscious again, and the doctor's said that it would take hooking her back up to machines for the rest of her life to keep her alive. The one doctor told my aunt that it would be best to just let her go. The ammonia levels will just continue to build up, and it will eventually cause her brain and body to shut down. So, now, we're basically just waiting for the Lord to take her home with Him.

It breaks my heart knowing that I won't get to see her again. I won't see her smile anymore, and my baby girl won't get to know her as well as I wanted her to. We won't get to see her this summer how we planned. We were supposed to go out to her house for Christmas, but our car needed fixed, and we couldn't afford the gas, tolls, and boarding for our dog. I am going to miss her so much, and going to her funeral will be devastating. I do find comfort, though, in knowing she will get to see my Pap again (he passed away 12 years ago this April 23). She has wanted to be with him since the day he died, and that has been something she's talked about often. I'm going to miss her sugar cookies, her pot pie, her sparkling blue eyes, her smile, the way she had to wear make-up to bed, and the way she always tried to make everyone happy. My Gram is an amazing woman, and she will greatly missed.

Please say a prayer for our family... for traveling safety (there will be family coming from many different states), and for us to feel God's presence and peace during this difficult time. Thank you.


Anonymous said...

may the Lord be with you and your family