Mortality

When I was little - maybe 6 or 7 - I told my Aunty Eula that I couldn't wait until I was thirteen because when I was thirteen I wouldn't have to listen to her anymore. What a lovely child I was, eh? She liked to tell that story. Or the time my parents were away on vacation and knowing that my aunt liked to have a wee sip of scotch in the evenings after dinner I went down to Dad's liquor cabinet and hid all the bottles. Wouldn't you have liked to adopt me? She liked to tell people that story too.

My aunt lived with my parents from before I can remember (I'm guessing I must have been around 6) until I was about fifteen. It wasn't easy. She's thirteen years older than Dad. She's not particularly fond of my mother. It must have been hard for two opinionated women to share a household AND in many respects a man. My aunt never married and can be a little needy and is bizarrely naive. She didn't live on her own for the first time until she was almost 70.

She'd gotten good at it though. I've been pretty impressed with her independence over the last couple of decades. At 88 she kept her own apartment, swam everyday, went to church every Sunday and was the person my MUCH younger (by more than a decade) and whinier Aunt looked to when SHE needed to be nursed. We're a long lived family. My grandmother passed just shy of her 98th birthday. Her mother saw her 104th. My father and aunts like to tell me how my great-grandmother was climbing coconut trees at 102. Nevertheless, for awhile now I've been reminding myself that Aunty Eula is 88 and that even with a lot of luck we probably didn't have a lot of time left. I look at Kamryn and realize that Aunty Eula won't be at her wedding. Those thoughts made me sad. Still she was healthy and active and it was easy to push sad thoughts from my mind.

On Saturday morning Aunty Eula had a stroke (brought about by a suddenly bad heart discovered a week earlier). Saturday - with the stroke and her heart problems - things looked truly dire. She got to the hospital in time for clot busting drugs to be administered but things got worse before they got better. There was some paralysis and a loss of speech. My mother advised that I visit. Daniel and I sat with her Sunday for about 2 hours. While the paralysis has subsided encouragingly, she still could not speak at all and swallowing was obviously a problem. She was scared and I felt so awful for her.

I keep thinking of all the things she will never do again. I keep thinking about how sudden and unexpected this was. I wonder how much time she has left with us (her heart problems remain unresolved and not a little scarey). My Dad is looking into getting rid of her apartment because she won't go back. He's looking into homes for her. No relative of mine has ever lived in a home - we tend to be healthy until the end and then go fast. This is all very surreal.

The good news is that she is doing very well today. When my parents visited this morning the physiotherapists had her up and sitting in a chair. When my Dad asked when they sat her there she responded clearly: "this morning." A few moments later she was back to nodding "yes and no" so the recovery isn't complete but its progress.

I know to be patient and that she's not going to recover from a stroke overnight but I also know that she is 88 ...

If you can spare a thought or a prayer ...