My Grandad died over the weekend. I'm not sure I'm emotionally equipped to handle such a tragedy. He'd been ill for a while but he was okay. In and out of hospital feeling a bit under the weather.
He got to a nursing home and we were so happy that he was out of that awful hospital. He'd told us that the nurses were being mean to him and that depressed me no end. So it was a joyous day when my mum texted me on Thursday to say Grandad was going to the nursing home much closer to all the family.
I arrived home after work looking forward to going to the cinema with Mr. Wilde. As soon as I got in he told me to ring my mum.
Apparently Grandad had been in the nursing home for all of 45 minutes before being rushed up to hospital after choking on some bacon. Not the fault of anyone with him at the time, he was just hungry and trying to shovel too much in. I blame mean nurses from the hospital for not making sure he was eating properly.
Mr. Wilde and I didn't get to the cinema, we spent most of the night in A&E. Eventually we left, there was nothing we could do. My parents and Grandma waited there until gone 10pm and it turned out we could've all gone into see Grandad but they didn't know we were there despite Grandma travelling up in the ambulance with him.
I swear that place needs sorting out. My Grandma almost died there because of their incompetencies.
So Friday Mr. Wilde and I decided that we should go clubbing. Celebrate our lives and get away from being grownups with problems.
I was faffing over what to wear. I was half way through a mismatched outfit when my mum rang. Grandad was worse and we might get the call to say he was dying that night.
It was so sudden, I knew he was ill but thought he was quite the way off death.
Mum said we should go out but be prepared to rush to the hospital. We didn't go clubbing but I left the house in my mismatched outfit and headed the 20 miles to mums. We stayed there that night. No phone call came.
The next morning we went to the hospital to see Grandad. One lung was completely full of fluid. He didn't have the strength to cough and he looked thin and weak. We couldn't understand anything he said. I don't think he was there, he was moving his hands as if he was doing something else. I like to think that he couldn't feel the pain or the stab of not being able to catch a breath. Instead I hope he thought he was making a cup of tea or stroking the cat.
It was a harrowing sight but when we left I gave him a hug and told him I loved him and that I'd see him soon.
We went back to mum's because I didn't really want to be away from the family. We got fish and chips and settled down to watch X-Factor.
8:15 - We got that call
Mum and Step-Dad piled into Step-Dad's van. Mr. Wilde and I got into his car, we had to pick up Grandma. We arrived at her house only to hear her say my uncle would pick her up.
Off we went to the hospital. The 25 mile drive took 30 minutes. It usually takes nearer to an hour.
Mum and Step-Dad parked in the disabled space out the front and we parked next to them seconds later but they were already running to the ward.
Visiting hours were over so we had to press the button to be let into the ward. I saw, through the glass, Mum and Step-Dad with the nurse. Mum turned into Step-Dad for a hug. I looked at Mr. Wilde. I knew they'd been told the worst.
The door opened and Step-Dad was walking towards us.
"He's passed away," he said before hugging me.
Despair washed over me and I felt tears prickle at my eyes but I didn't really take it in. I went with Mum into the doctor's office. We sat down and were brought a cup of tea. Tea helped but it didn't take away the sting of seeing my mummy crying.
Grandad had died at 8:15pm. Just after my Grandma had received the call. There was no way we could've got there in time.
Uncle, aunt, cousin and Grandma arrived and other uncle - who lives away - called. Mr. Wile cried, I cried, cousin cried, mummy cried.
We were then told we could go and see him. I almost didn't. But I didn't want to miss out on the chance to say goodbye. We all went into the side room where he'd been for the last couple of days.
What I saw and went through in there will haunt me for the rest of my life. My Grandad looked like a corpse. He was but he looked like all the life had been sucked out of him only after being dead for half an hour.
He had one eye still a little open and the nurses had been unable to shut his mouth.
I cried, god I cried. Tearful sobs wracked through me as Mr. Wilde hugged me from behind. I've never felt such misery and despair.
My Grandma began the Lord's prayer. It was only appropriate for a mainly Christian family.
I hate religion but the strength my Grandma had in such a terrible situation was amicable. Religion makes people strong in hard times and while I believe it has lead to a lot of the world's problems there' a lot to be said for believing someone is going to heaven after death rather than just ceasing to exist.
Right then embraced religion. Grandma went off into quoting Psalms (I think) and I looked down at my hands. I couldn't look at the dead body in the bed. That wasn't my Grandad. He was no longer in the sick shell he'd been living in for the last so long. He was free, no longer suffering, coughing or not knowing where he was.
That made me feel better but just seeing him there like that was harrowing. And to see all my Mum cry like that was horrible.
I say goodbye and goodnight to my Grandad. I'm sure he's watching over us now.
I have to say the nurses were great. Caring, informative and sweet. Not everything about that hospital is bad, they do a good job more or less. It must be difficult.
I'm at work now. Shakey, exhausted and spaced out. I need to go home and sleep.
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