My Nan: The Final Part.

Now I know that I am one of the lucky ones in life. My family might not be perfect, we might all have our foibles - but no matter what happens... we all stick together. We are all very close, which is an unusual thing for many, but it is something that I treasure each and every day.

Today I’m in only what can be described as pre- mourning... my whole family are. My poor Grandmother, Audrey, is currently succumbing to an infection that is immune to all known antibiotics. She has been taken off all meds bar pain medication and put on hospice care, which means it’s a case of when, instead of if. We all knew that it was a matter of time, but absolutely none of us were prepared for the turmoil that we are all currently experiencing. Maybe I shouldn’t write about it whilst she’s still here, but I guess it’s my own form of dealing with it, not to mention it highlights a massive flaw in the system, of which I will highlight later in this piece. Nan never wanted this, and dignity is a hard thing to keep in your final days - once lost it is hard to ever find again.

Now, moving away from the current pain of the imminent situation, I want to tell you all about Audrey. I know I’ve previously blogged about her before; five years ago to be exact... when I read the blog over I burst into tears, it’s crazy how time flies and how situations change so graphically.

My Nan is freaking amazing: this woman has had more lives than a cat; surviving multiple strokes, stents, blood clots and septicaemia to keep on going, and would have been turning 98 in September, the day before my 34th birthday. She’s always had a super strong heart, and an even stronger mind. Other than the fact that 98 is an awesome age; Nan has lived through war, multiple monarchy, the forming of the NHS, the turn of the millennium - let alone watching all of our family grow up and make our own paths. This situation is exceptionally bittersweet for me as two weeks ago I married my soulmate and was unable to show her our wedding photos, of which the week before hand she’d told me that she wanted to see. My mum managed to show her one of me and my dress, of which I have to take some comfort from. 

I cannot explain just how much of an influence she has had on my life, let alone other members of my family. As a unit she has always been there to influence or be apart of, and it is a very odd feeling within the family right now. Her wise words have stayed with me over many a matter.

Nan used to live across from my parent’s house, and in her later years my Mum (and Dad) became her primary carers. She survived many years in her house due to Mum’s exceptional care, feeding her lunchtime meals every day, ensuring that she had had everything that she needs and helping her shower and set her hair into her trademark curls every week. My Dad’s fantastic handyman skills kept her house liveable and looking back, probably kept her independent and more mobile than she should have been for a very long time. I spent many a day helping Mum by helping Nan with her personal care, it was never been a bother.. sometimes she would wind me up with her opinions but I was always happy to help. She’s repeat her stories on a regular basis and my eyes would roll trying to remind myself I was damn lucky overall. (See previous blog here: https://jennieedwards.blogspot.com/2013/10/my-nan.html )

What this all highlights for me is that there is one massive problem, one that is taboo to discuss: euthanasia. Nan had said many times over that she was happy and ready to go; no matter how morbid it seems.. she really was. She missed my Bamps who passed all the way back in 2002, and pretty much just existed since.

Now she’s stuck. Nearly 4 weeks ago she experienced two bleeds on the brain that left her in a hospital and bed bound. They discovered this infection afterward... Of which on hearing there was no more treatment my family had to make one of the hardest decisions of this life: to stop all treatment and allow her to pass or to press on after the doctors specifically saying there’s nothing more they can do... not knowing how long that will take, or how much pain she will experience. 

I hate it. We all hate it. It’s this sense of dread and foreboding that you cannot just shake away. A big cloud has hung upon us all. Watch someone you love and care about wilt away in front of your eyes with a terminal sentence that you are not allowed to change to assist in. 

Nan has stated many times over the years that she did not want to suffer. Her cousin Bud passed two years ago as she was walking into Boots; opened the door and just dropped down dead.... rather than being upset, all she could say is that she hopes it’s the same when it’s her time! 

In certain cases like hers I believe that euthanasia should have been there for her. None of this guessing. None of this emotional turmoil and suffering would have even been an option. She could have quite happily passed away a few weeks back. Instead we wake every day wondering if today will be the day, if the morphine is really helping her, if she’s calm in the mind and soothed, if she’s comfortable. The list goes on.

I have to keep reminding myself of the last time I saw her in the care home a few weeks ago, the giggles we were sharing as I showed her how I use Messenger to talk to Dad, who was away at the time. The fact she reminded me every time that Dan was lovely, and it was better to be “an older man’s darling than a young man’s slave”. 

I’m forcing myself of the memories I don’t want to forget. Reminding myself of the time she took me to the doctors to only find I needed an emergency appendectomy. When she and Bamps used to come and see me when I was sick in hospital. The time she chased kids down the seafront for stealing a trolley and had us all in tears of laughter. All the times I set her hair and she told me all about her childhood, the trips by chauffeur to Harrods and Selfridge. How Bamps fell in love with her when she turned 18. The picnics in Hythe with pork pies and a packet of fruit pastilles for my brother and I. Electric blankets in the spare room for when we stayed over and it was too cold. Her Saturday Rock buns that used to go hard half way through the week. The Christmas tree with ancient tinsel and decorations on and not to mention, past but not least, her secret stash of crunchies and dairy milk.

I don’t know quite what to say from here on in. We’re all just plodding on, knowing that the inevitable is going to happen and we can’t do anything about it. 

Note: I wrote this at the end of last week. My Nan, Audrey Edwards passed peacefully in her sleep this morning, Monday 10th June 2019, aged 97. I still stand by everything I put above. I might not be religious but I’m really hoping that she’s been reunited with my Grandfather, Bamps. X  

Thank you to the lovely nurses and Doctors on the Fordwich ward in Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother Hospital, Margate for their care.