Death with Dignity...Fuck That

My grandfather is dying.

He has been for over 10 years now.

He has Alzheimer's Disease.

I remember when they told me what was happening to him. They had seen the early warning signs of it and had him checked by his physician. He had been placed on a new medication that kept the worse of it at bay for a few years.

But, ultimately, my grandfather forgot how to drive. He forgot how to dress himself. He forgot where he lived. He forgot who we all were. He forgot how to take care of himself. He forgot how to swallow. He forgot who his wife was.

He forgot who he was.

My grandfather was realistic enough to prepare a living will before it got too bad. In it, he asked that he not be kept alive by machines. He didn't want a feeding tube placed. He didn't want my grandmother to have to make any hard decisions about his care without him being able to speak for himself.

My grandparents live in Kentucky. There is no such thing as Death with Dignity laws in Kentucky. I've always advocated for these laws when they come up here in Denver, CO. I've always felt that it was a persons right to end their life when they have a severe, painful, and debilitating disease.

When there is no other option, and it will lessen their pain, why not? We put our beloved pets down due to their suffering. Why not allow people to make that decision for themselves as well?

My grandfather, in his only available act of defiance while locked in his own mind, has chosen to refuse to eat. He has now gone 7 days without any nourishment by mouth. His doctors say there isn't much else besides IV fluids that they can do. He's going to die soon.

Some may say he has given up but my family chooses to see this as my grandfather saying, "Enough."

Enough for him. Enough for my grandmother, who has been by his side for the very worst of this stupid fucking disease. Enough for my family who holds our breath every time they take him to the hospital for one more thing his brain won't let him do. He won't do it anymore.

And I'm so angry.

I'm angry at this stupid disease. I'm angry that there isn't a better answer for when someone has it. I'm angry that my grandmother has had to watch her mother, now her husband, wither away from this nightmare.

I'm angry at my grandfather.

I can't really explain that last one. I'm not sure why I'm upset with him.

You know how parents and grandparents say they don't have a favorite? Yeah, that's bullshit. One of my sisters is a daddy's girl. Mom is attached at the hip to my other sister.

My grandfather was my person. My favorite person in the world. Everywhere he went, I was there. The entire family called me his navigator. When I was little I was positive that without me he would get lost. Of course, that wasn't the case. He could do anything.

And I'm pissed he's leaving. I'm pissed he's choosing to leave.

I feel like if there is enough of him in there to choose not to eat then maybe there is enough of him in there to know how much we still need him.

But, of course, not like this. He hasn't been self sufficient in 10 years. He hasn't walked in about 3 years. He hasn't been able to really talk in a year. He's not my grandfather anymore. I know that. The rational part of me knows this. The bleeding heart in me is so pissed off.

I'm angry that my person is being taken away from me like this. I'm angry that he has been slowly being removed from our lives for over a decade. I'm so fucking pissed that this fucking disease is a fucking thing.

I'm proud of my grandfather for doing this. Even if it's just a reaction from the disease where he does not trust the nurses and doctors. I'm proud that there is still some fight in him. Honestly, I am. I'm just still so fucking furious at this situation.

Fuck Alzheimer's.

And, I swear, when I have to go to Kentucky for his funeral and someone wants to comfort me with religion, I may lose it.