Death Comes Dancing To The Door

And the endgame begins.

We’re all alone in the house, just Emmy and I, and the pets.

When Emmy was a young woman, she wore pants. Lots. At a time when it just wasn’t done. And she enjoyed tromping through the wilds, I’ve seen old photos of her in her snow suit and big boots as a young woman of 19 or 20.She was always her Daddy’s girl, the apple of his eye. She married a handsome blond man with piercing blue eyes, a pilot in the Air Force during the second world war. They had a daughter and a son, my husband. She has two grandsons of whom she is especially proud. They are big strapping boys, one’s about to marry and studying to be a pipefitter and the other is studying to become an airline pilot. They are both very, very fine young men.

Emmy was widowed 7 yrs ago, and though over 70 she continued to live alone. An old, badly healed, leg injury had led to a replaced knee and hip. She walked with a crutch but refused any special consideration because that was for people who needed it more than her. She watched over her neighbour, Mrs Miller, the way old women do. She had everything in her apartment painted pink. Nothing made her happier than giving gifts, she started her holiday shopping in August!

We used to drive her every week; grocery shopping and to the mall to get her hair done. She is short and pear shaped and waddled a little on that crutch. The cutest thing you ever saw.

Emmy had a stroke 3 yrs ago that left her totally bedridden and incontinent.

Till then you see, her son and I had pretty much been the poster children for never growing up. We worked in bars, stayed up late, moved with a fast crowd, quit our jobs to travel for months at a time, no children, no comitments, no routine. 16+years of it, and it was good, and we were good at it.

But then all that changed. We took Emmy back to her home, against the advice of one and all at the hospital. And they were right, Emmy needed a lot of care. And we were both working two jobs, and living in someone else’s apartment.

It was all about crisis management then. I thought she was going to die when we brought her home. I would get up in the night 2 and 3 times to see if she was still breathing. And she always was. 'Cause she’s a tough old bird, that’s why.

Emmy was somewhat changed but was essentially still Emmy. She could still make us laugh and we her. She still had a good arm and could talk on the phone to her ladies and work her remote control and feed herself.

Eventually the strain grew too much, we were only two small people and only human after all. Together we all decided it was time, and Emmy moved into a full care facility.

People who require the most care suffer the most in those places. I couldn’t hardly go there, it was so awful. But we were both at the end of our abillities.

Three months later we found and bought a house, imagine that, a mortgage. Yeah, it was scary. But it was big enough for all of us, so, once again, against everyones advice, we sprung Emmy from the nursing home. Which in case you’re interested is harder than getting someone out of jail!

That was two years ago. It’s been okay. The routine part has been grinding for us both but we’ve found that growing up ain’t so bad. I guess motivation is everything.

It’s not like I didn’t know that there was only one end to this dance. And I did see decline in Emmy, ever so slight but there.

It’s not that I wasn’t expecting you.
I’m not sure how you got the jump on me.
I can feel you all around me.

Three days ago there was a significant change, sometimes Emmy made no sense when she spoke. She has since lost the abillity to feed herself and I am spoon feeding her.

It was last night. In the early evening. So hot and humid, that prestorm smell in the air.

I had all the lights out, electrical shortages and all.
And then the wind suddenly came up.
The sheers in all the windows were billowing wildly.
The dog began to pace.
And then I knew.

You were in my neighbourhood.
And bearing down on my house.

And a storm of biblical proportions rocked the house last night.
I sat up holding Emmy’s hand.

But another sun has risen and Emmy’s still holding on.
And so are we.

And I know there were times that I called for you to come and take Emmy and end her suffering.

I take it all back.

God’s watching over Emmy and me, and you’re not scaring me!

Thanks for listening dopers, Emmy and I we’re all alone.

And I know there were times that I called for you to come and take Emmy and end her suffering. You were in my neighbourhood. And bearing down on my house. Goid’s watching over Emmy and me, and you’re not scaring me. It’s not that I wasn’t expecting you. I’m not sure howoyou got the jump on me. I can feel you all around me.

God bless you, Emmy, and your family elbows. Thank you so much for sharing that. I wish I had something incredibly wise or meaningful to say, but I can only offer my own sympathy and thoughts of hope. I understand what you must be going through.

It always amazes me how some dopers can write so eloquetly about such difficult subjects.

Emmy’s dance may be ending but yours will continue and in a strange way Emmy will now touch all who read this.

Thank you elbows. Your words are very powerful, and I hope that you are able to maintain such strength during this incredibly difficult time. Emmy sounds like one damn fine lady, and so do you.

Take care.

Wow.

You are a true inspiration, elbows. I hope I’m at least half as strong as you someday.

Elbows,
I have tears in my eyes, and I’m thinking about my grandmother’s graceful dance offstage, many years ago. Thank you and best wishes to you and Emmy.

Emmy is lucky to have the support and love she has from you and your husband – as lucky as you are to know her. Thank you for sharing.

For your kind words and thoughts, they really helped.

It’s that post storm, grey and overcast, on and off drizzle where we are.

But I feel like we weathered the storm. I don’t feel death at the door any more. I see Emmy holding on and it gives me strenghth.

Every now and then, for a moment or more, I see the old Emmy, and then just as quickly she’s gone again.

Please don’t think we are remarkable people, we’re not, I assure you. Our friends have always looked upon us as having the life of Riley (see OP) though we never had a car or a pot to piss in. It was the idea of complete freedom from commitments that was so alluring, I think. They have been forced to see us through new eyes. And why not, after all, we’ve been forced to see ourselves through new eyes as well.

During that traumatic first year, we were frequently asked, “Like, how are you doing this?”, and the answer was always the same, “I have no idea, we just are.”

Thank you again for the support, from Emmy and I.

You have my heartfelt condolences… She’s had a long life, and she’s surrounded by her family.

That was so beautiful.

And so are you.

The very ill often physically respond to changes in the barometric pressure. Everybody does a little bit, but it’s more noticable.

Something I have learned. Death is not the foe. It is the natural ending of this existence. But it doesn’t stop here. Death just moves us on the way to whatever is next.

Emmy will let you know when she’s ready to go.

How incredibly decent of you to give her some dignity when the last dance has come. She is with those who love her and those that she loves. There are few better ways to go and you two have made it possible. You have both my admiration and sincere condolences.

Emmy is very lucky to have you guys, who are willing to do so much for her. The most important one of all, too: Being there for her. I hope when she finally dances her way on to the next world, it’s smooth and peaceful and easy for her.