family perspectives (48)

            The most recent death experience in my family was the death of my grandpa. It was a slow and painless death. He was a diabetic. Over time diabetes can lead to nerve damage, which caused him, among other symptoms, muscle weakness, insensitivity to pain, and sweating.

When he got signs of sickness, before that whole “near death” alertness, my parents took the whole family (grandpa, grandma, uncles and aunts, kids and even a baby) to our farm, this was the only time he ever went there. It was, actually, the only time the whole family went there together.

During that trip, one night, he started seating. It was a cold sweat – which is usually related to fear, pain or shock. In that case it was pain, but the diabetes neuropathies, which often get worse at night, made him insensitive to pain.

When back to the city he went to a hospital and the doctor told him he had a heart attack over the weekend and explained:

Although diabetes is characterized by high levels of sugar in the blood, a side effect to the diabetes treatment is periodical hypoglycemia (low sugar levels), so patients who are receiving large doses of evening insulin may be especially prone to nocturnal hypoglycemia. Heart failure can also cause low blood sugar levels, particularly in a person who is already being treated for diabetes, and especially if it is a person of age. Patients with diabetes experiencing nocturnal hypoglycemia may have night sweats without other hypoglycemic symptoms. My grandfather was in all of the higher risk groups, therefore all he experienced was sweat.

A recent event of hypoglycemia in diabetics was a major predictor of heart attack, stroke and death, a just-finished study by the Department of Veterans Affairs found.” (2008) - http://www.usatoday.com/news/health/2008-06-09-diabetes-hypoglycemia_N.htm

            The doctor asked for tests that would determine if heart surgery was necessary. This would take about ten days, but before that he had his second heart attack. This time, being in town, he was able to go to a hospital. He went through an emergency superficial surgery and stayed for a week in the intensive care unit.

It was a really uncomfortable week for him, he was alone, among half dead people and he simply couldn’t trust that the doctors would always remember he was a diabetic and therefore needed special care. He hated that place and never wanted to come back. Back home he started taking some medicine to control his heart’s functions and make him stronger so he would be prepared for a major heart surgery.

            But the only way out of the major surgery would be staying a few more days at the intensive care unit, and he already had made his mind about that. So, at home, he stopped taking the pills and hid them all under his mattress. The doctor was waiting for his recovery to book the surgery, while he was home planning what would happen to himself and his belongings. He listed everything he had and wrote down how he would like it all to be distributed. He decided to be cremated, without any ceremony. He only agreed to make (a brasilian version of) a “requiem mass” for his friends to be able to reach his family.

            A week later he had another heart attack. The family was gathered, trying to celebrate my cousin and uncle’s birthday. He started sweating again. Someone called the ambulance, knowing he could be in risk. They took him into surgery; the family was all home in circle, sitting on the floor, saying everything was alright and that he could choose whatever was best for him, and that this was all that mattered for us. We were trying to send him this energy, trying to give him closure. In the middle of this “family meditation” the phone rang, he had died.

            Two days after his death we received his aches and made a private ceremony in our garden. Only family members and the closest friends were present. Grandmother asked all her grandchildren to spread his aches in her chapel, where she would always be able to talk to him. But there was so much of him that we actually spread him all over the land (a land where the whole family lives). She told us she can talk to him from anywhere now. (:

            My grandfather’s death was the end of a fulfilled life. He rose his children and was able to see his grandchildren. It was the end of the cycle for him. He decided himself to stop the medication – without anyone knowing. He didn’t want doctors postponing his death for his family’s sake. By the end, everything actually came out the way he wanted.

            In Brasil, families usually suffer deeply because of death. For my family it was different. We know life is not forever, so why bother making a scandal? My dad always says when his time comes we’ll have to accept it. As an atheist he doesn’t want a funeral, he has already written a document determining he wants to be, as his father, cremated. He thinks church controls people by fear. He also doesn’t want a lot of people bringing their own suffers to my mom, which is completely reasonable.