To Florida

In about five hours, we’re off to Florida to say good-bye to, and likely to bury, my maternal grandfather, who we’ve always called Papa. I’ve told the story of his stroke a few times today, as I arranged to cover classes and such, but it bears repeating. And thinking back to the deaths of my grandmothers, I wish I had written more things down.

After deciding he was too old to live alone last summer, Papa moved in with my mom and dad, who live in Gainesville. He had some health problems in August, but had been in good shape since then: friends he recently visited in Lake Worth said he looked great.

Last Friday, March 3, my brother Curtis and his wife Erica drove up to visit Papa and my parents. The five of them had dinner together, with strawberry pie for dessert. At 10, Papa announced he was ready for bed, said good-night, and went to his room. Two minutes later, he called out, “I think I’m having a problem in here.” My father went to him, and it was obvious what was happening. With my dad, Papa literally watched the stroke happen in the mirror: his right side slumped, and he gradually lost the ability to speak and to stand.

I can’t imagine what that must have been like. Watching yourself have a stroke; sitting there, helpless, as control of your body slipped away. My mom says Papa just shook his head repeatedly, as if to say, “No, no, no.”

My family called 911 and got Papa to the hospital. Over the next few days, we learned the damage is irreversible. At age 95 (almost; his birthday is March 20) there’s just no hope Papa’s brain can “rewire” itself. But despite being unable to eat, or swallow, or stand, and despite being blind in one eye, Papa can hear, is often alert, and is communicating with my folks. (Again, props to Curtis, whose experience with brain injury patients really helped us out—hand-squeezing, head motions, etc.) My parents and his doctor explained what happened to Papa—though nobody doubts he knew anyway—and asked him what he wanted to do. Multiple times, he indicated he didn’t want to prolong his life. Unlike his wife, who gradually slid into dementia, Papa chose to bring in Hospice.

I’m glad his end was his decision.