Grandma almost died two weeks ago. No joke. She developed pneumonia and fluid on her lungs, and was fighting for every breath. Her oxygenation levels were very low and I was debating calling an ambulance. I had to break out the tears at the GP’s receptionist to get a home visit from a real life doctor, got a variety of strong medication, and the usual doctor’s quip about trying to keep her out of hospital as ‘she’ll die of an infection in there… and you’ll be waiting for days in corridor‘ he added as an afterthought.
Scary stuff.
I really thought she was going to die, she was effectively drowning. She was so weak, couldn’t talk, and looked ready to give up. The first few days were terrible and I was round-the-clock nursing (and working, obvs, because I can’t actually use my unpaid carers leave in practice- grandma forgot to give me fair warning so I could give my employer the required notice. She needs to get better at that).
During that time, I simply tried to give her her medication and keep her relatively comfortable and calm. We weren’t really making any progress until the antibiotics started to kick in a little, still unable to breath well enough to talk, she breathlessly whispered the word ‘turkey’ to me.
‘What did you say, grandma?’ I asked quietly, thinking my sleep deprivation was making me hallucinate.
‘Tur….key.’ She answered, after several attempts.
‘Turkey? For Christmas? Don’t worry about that. I’ll order it. You have to get better first. Yes?‘ I answered, reassuringly.
From then on, I knew she was using that very important Christmas-turkey-ordering-at-the-butchers job as motivation to fight; to make an effort to get better. When you’re 99, can’t breathe, and have been in bed for several days, you develop other issues such as pressure sores, swollen legs, very reduced mobility to name just a few. Even lifting her head required a huge effort.
Knowing her inside out, I started using this turkey motivation to gently push her to try to do more, sit up for a few minutes, try to move her legs, and eventually to eat something with her medication etc. I saw the huge efforts she was making, the pain she was in, and the panic in her eyes when she couldn’t catch her breath. But she kept going. And going. And then tried some more. I was so impressed by her grit and resilience, it would have been so easy to just give up. I made sure to celebrate every effort and small victory to keep her motivation up and set new goals.
Two weeks later, and she’s feeling much better. She still has a long way to go but she is gaining her strength back, and starting to fight me about taking her pills- a sure sign we’re on track to achieve the Turkey Target. This ordeal got me thinking about the extraordinary strength and resilience of the people we care for. As unpaid carers, we get daily demonstrations of courage and of sheer will power. Yes, we’re sometimes too tired, overwhelmed, or stressed to see it, but I wanted to acknowledge this in this blog. The people we care for rarely have their own voices heard and we really don’t have any idea of what they experience everyday. I will try to remember that more often, that my grandmother is a bit special. She is as tough as the toughest of old boots, and is not ready to give up yet. She is still fighting with herself every day to get better, to breathe, and to walk, using her inexhaustible well of determination.
To all the people we care for: we see you. We love you. You inspire us to do more and keep fighting for the help you deserve. You’re exceptional.
P.S:… but *please* take your meds. Jesus.