Wednesday, July 26, 2017

The dying of the light

I visited a dying friend in the hospital today. I was only there for an hour and a half but now I am totally exhausted, I can hardly think. My mind is not exactly blank but I don't know what to think or what to do with myself.

There were three of us friends and her daughter there. Sounds crowded but it wasn't really. A nurse came in to give her some medication and then a lab tech came in to take blood. She couldn't keep anything down so they didn't bring her any lunch. She's in a geriatric unit. One friend is upset about that, she thinks our very sick friend should be in the main part of the hospital where the doctors will be more concerned about finding what's wrong with her and fixing it. I think she's a bit appalled that the rest of us don't think that too.

Our dying friend seems alert and--I'd like to say happy but that's not quite the right word. She likes the company, she likes the nurses, she feels cared for. But she's kind of loopy, in and out, there and not there. It's not drugs, she was sort of loopy before she went into the hospital, whatever is wrong with her is what is making her loopy. They think it's an antibiotic-resistant infection, but they don't know where the infection is.

The blinds were closed because the light bothered her, but I could see that it was a nice view of a park outside. Someone asked her if she was hungry and she said she couldn't remember, then we asked if she was hot and she said she didn't know. She was picking at the blanket like she wanted to pull it up or take it off, but she didn't know which she wanted. She would start to say something, repeating the first few words several times, then kind of fading out like she had forgotten what she wanted to say or she was falling asleep. Loopy. But then she'd finish the sentence and it wasn't loopy at all. In and out, there and not there.

But what we had heard about her state was far worse than what we saw, we were kind of relieved to see her awake and smiling because we had been told that she might not recognize us or she might be unconscious. She's definitely conscious. It seemed to us afterward when we talked about it that this was what they mean when they say someone died peacefully, she seems at peace with her state of being now. People say how awful it is to die in a hospital, but seeing my friend I think there are far worse ways to die. She is comfortable and she is cared for and she seems at peace.

I've known her for more than forty years, I don't know how much longer she will last. Maybe a few hours, maybe a few weeks, who knows. Her sister is coming from Toronto to see her tomorrow and she adores her sister, so I think she'll stick around for that.

A few days ago I had a new grandchild, today I visited a dying friend. I don't know how to describe what that feels like, a kind of numbness, a hole where there used to be feeling.

4 comments:

Rain Trueax said...

It is the cycle of life and we all go through it eventually. It's tough to be in a situation that reminds us of it. I hope she has a peaceful entry to whatever comes next.

Wisewebwoman said...

So sorry to read this Annie. It seems like there's no cause for your friends condition of ill health. Very strange.

I'm glad you got to see her. 40 years is such a long time.

XO
WWW

joared said...

It's difficult and feels unreal sometimes, I think, that someone we know and care about is leaving this world, even though intellectually we know that's the case. I can empathize with what you're feeling -- numbness can describe the feeling at times. The contrast in contact with a new life can offer some perspective on life.

Annie said...

My friend has a host of health issues which I won't get into here, and trying to discern which one is the straw breaking the camel's back is kind of useless. But since I wrote this post my friend has made a miraculous (partial) recovery, no doubt thanks to her visiting beloved sister. Whether it is permanent or just another turn on this roller coaster ride is TBD.