No Euphemisms

I had ugly, scary nightmares all night last night. Up and down until finally I felt I was channeling something, and began to wonder if it was the struggles of the pixie troll. Tonight, I believe it was.

We learned that she was moved from the very humanistic/holistic memory care facility to an actual hospice facility. In her dying state, with her mental delusions and her fighting impulses, she was obviously more than they could handle.

Is this possible, I asked myself. It was a dumb question because I myself saw her (all 4' 11" and 95 or so pounds of her) in a state that was too much to handle, even for me. There aren't any euphemisms for what is happening. Her struggle has completely exhausted all of her family caregivers, who were by and large unprepared for even the most ordinary of deaths, much less this dramatic and attenuated experience.

I am frightened now, I'll say that. Frightened for my children that this should ever be visited on them, and I am determined that we will capture what we have learned and make it available to them in a meaningful way. At the very least, I will want them to know that I wouldn't wish this on anyone, and will instead spend considerable effort facing my own inevitable death and preparing for it on their behalves.