More on death

I wrote the earlier post this morning at work. The blog from work thing works just fine, I only need to remember to bring my memory key so I don't have to email it home. But anyway, on to death.

While of course I still miss Jimmy, I know it was his time and I hope his afterlife is exactly as he described in fascinating detail to Matt and I one afternoon.

More death is around me today. I work right next to the pathology transcriptionists. They are allowed to have food and drink in their room; sometimes when I don't want to be be in total gross violation of my department rules, I'll drink some of my coffee in their area and chat. I got to know them pretty well when I started my job as the lab secretary a number of years ago. They are a fun group of women, I really enjoy them. One of them has ovarian cancer. Today the girls quietly made the rounds to all of her friends that she has 48 hours to live. She hasn't wanted visitors, so really only a couple of the pathologist (are your doctor friends visitors?) and one other transcriptionist visit her. BTW for context, she is a patient at my work, so visiting is only an elevator ride. So today myself and 2 of my other close coworkers went to visit our friend. In between treatments she became well enough to come back to work, she wore her wig at first, then when her hair was long enough she was all natural, full cute head of hair. Today, she looked 90. It is so completely weird to see her as a 100% different person on the outside. But her spirit is alive and kicking, she was looking forward to getting her lung drained, she said it was a pretty cool experience to have that happen yesterday.

The worst was her husband. He was the saddest man I have ever seen in my life. He couldn't stop crying. I was told to be prepared for both him and her and that I needed to be ready to visibly see them. Even though she looked like a little old lady, he broke my heart. I reached out to touch his shoulder and asked if there was anything we can do for him, he just looked at me with blood red eyes and tears streaming down his face and said no, but thank you.

There are good people around them. I will keep them in my good thoughts and I hope that he can look back in one year and find peace.

More death? No there can't be, right?

Grandpa. He can't swallow, he has tumor in the bronchial area. He doesn't say much anymore, and is on pain meds so he isn't really present. My aunt Kim said, Despite his crotchity shortcomings, I do love him. I'm sad that my mom is loosing her dad. And even though I have selfishly joked about how I'm eager to use the bereavement pay and stay home and paint, I will miss not having any grandparents. Although he isn't in what they call "dying mode" he isn't going to bounce back.