Losing SO Much More Then My Dog

I got my dog, L.V. as a puppy. He was only four lbs when I brought him home. He was everything I’d ever wish for in a dog.cb974930bf9df15e0cc90ba18f392175 L.V. went from being a 4 lbs puff-ball to a 75 lbs. guardian. He was my friend, my companion, my protector, the one thing that was always there for me no matter what. He loved me and he would have died for me. There were many a time when he came between me and danger – or at least what he thought of as danger. 

While everyone around me, had lives, families, jobs, children, whatever I had him. He calmed me when I was stress. He kept me for killing myself on more than on occasion because I was responsible for him. But most of all he brought me great joy and happiness, and a much need feeling of being safe.

So when he started to limp around New Year’s, I was SCARED!!! I knew that he was 12 years old and that is old for a Rottweiler. But the thought of losing this important part of my life was killing me. It got worse when the doctor came back with the fact that L.V.had bone cancer in his back leg, and there was nothing I could do but keep him comfortable and wait. The doctor told me that L.V. would let me know when it was time. I thought that this was crazy but because I wasn’t ready to let go yet I went with it. In the end, he did tell me when it was time, but for six weeks I went through hell. Was he comfortable? Was he in pain? Was he eating? Was he sleeping? Was I being selfish to hold on to him, instead of letting go? I will forever be grateful for those 6 weeks. I was with him almost the entire time. It helped me come to terms with losing him, and I got a few more memories to hold on to. When he went, he went peacefully to sleep in the vet’s office. 

Now I’m sure there are those of you that are saying he’s just a dog, what’s the big deal. But he wasn’t just a dog to me, he was everything I didn’t have. I know that, that is putting a lot on an animal but he was my emotional support. The thing that kept me semi-sane in all my madness.

Coming home was the hardest part, I had to leave a part of me lying on the floor of the vet’s office and walk away, knowing that I would never see him again. Then I got home to a house that was soooo quiet, and the thing that I usually used to comfort myself was no longer there.

I started thinking I could heard him, I keep seeing him, I became hyper-vigilant because he was no longer there to protect me. I wasn’t sleeping, I’d spend hours  – I can’t say crying because it was so much more than that – keening, whaling . Till I’d tire myself out but when I did sleep I wake up screaming because I couldn’t find him. My family wasn’t at all helpful. My father didn’t know what to do with the nighttime crying so he did nothing. He didn’t check on me, he didn’t even wake my mom to have her deal with it. All he could say was NO MORE DOGS. My therapist was worried and suggest that another dog might ease some of the pain. Or at least give me something else to love. My mom didn’t like the idea but begrudgingly took me to some shelters to look at dogs. None of which she liked.

Having spent a week and a half in utter misery, with both my parent basically saying no more dogs at least not now. I took matters into my own hands and went looking on my own. I came home with a puppy, Moo. He’s going to be less than half  L.V. size which is good because I can no longer handle a big dog. But Moo is colored the same as  L.V. which makes me feel like I haven’t lost him completely. While he is not  L.V., he is something I can love, and that loves me. And I don’t feel so alone.

I still grieve for L.V. nothing can take his place but Moo has help a lot. He’ll never be  L.V., but he can be Moo and that is enough.

No my dogs are not named  L.V. and Moo. These are just their alias for this page. I’m not so mean as to name a dog – Moo. 🙂

 

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Juggling – More Not Here, Then Here

Lately I have been feeling this not so here feeling. It’s like watching everything going on around but being in a protective bubble where none of it touches you. I realized that I don’t want any of it to touch me, because that would mean having to DO something. I’d have to feel something, or react in some way, or admit to things that I don’t want to, so I let them bounce off the bubble. The bubble is made up of all these compulsive things that I am doing to avoid the things I want to avoid – food, sleep and marathon TV watching and reading.juggling These things are not really making my issues go away; they are just keeping them at bay. Right now I’m avoiding so many things and triggers it feels like a juggling act and I keep dropping the balls and they keep getting inside the bubble which is making me want to retreat even more. Time to look at the balls that I’m juggling and see what I’m feeling.

  1. I’ve lost two people in death in the last month, three if you count Babylon (grandmother) though she wasn’t really a loss.  Babylon was the first to go and when she died, I felt like I was sucked back to where I was 2 1/2 years ago when Satan (grandfather) died. I’ve been having major flashbacks again, the dreams are back, along with the uncontrolled anger, and I can barely go in public without having a panic attack even though I’m on medication. I even had one in my doctor’s office which I haven’t had since I went on medication. I don’t want to leave the house; I barely want to leave my room. I found myself wanting to hide in my closet again which is something I haven’t felt is over 2 years. Babylon’s death was followed closely by two people who I’ve known most of my life and that I actually liked and respect, which made losing them even harder. Especially the second one (we’ll call him Jay), who other than my grandpa, Abraham (father’s father), was the only man (in that age range) that I have every had a relationship with that felt completely safe to me. Losing Jay was a huge blow for me. He knew a lot of my background, was supportive and understanding when it came to my problems with my family and the church, and he never made me feel bad about myself. His funeral was attended by almost 400 people, who made it very hard for me to be there but it was something that I wanted more than anything, to show my love and respect one last time for a great man who really cared.  It was one of the most beautiful services I have ever been to. It still makes me cry just thinking about it and the person I lost. So enough on the subject of death.
  2. The second ball I’m juggling is my mother – and she has all these little balls spinning around her which makes juggling her ball a freaking nightmare.  
  • Spinning ball number one with her is Reuben – She wants him here because she misses him, but once he’s here she can’t deal with him. She loses time more frequently. She no longer has the energy to keep up with a child, which she takes out on everyone around her because she still thinks she’s 25 or something. Her patience level is getting smaller and smaller by the day, which means she is scream more and more. All of this is triggering to me and makes me want to recluse and protect all at the same time. Except I have learned that trying to protect Reuben just makes everything worse so recluse; it is.
  • Spinning ball number two – Amos and Azariah (my cousins). For some reason my mother treats her brother’s children more like her own then she does her own. This pisses me off. They have parents of their own, yes one of them has been totally absent for most of their lives and the other LETS my mother do everything that needs to be done for them, but this is only because my mother will not step back and say she can’t help. It’s like she has this compulsion that makes her have to help her brother, and thus his kids, even when doing so leaves her kids, basically … motherless. Yes, I know that Amos is a paranoid schizophrenic and needs help with getting meds, SSI and so on, but she’s done this more than once already. As for Azariah, he’s moving tomorrow, and my mom is going to watch his kids and make sure they have lunch and dinner.  It’s not a big deal, but neither is a drop of water. That is until that drop of water becomes millions of drops that wear away at a stone till they form a hole. I know that this sounds b*&^%y but she my mother and I need her to be helping me. I want to tell them to go the f*&k away and get their own parents and to leave mine alone. I don’t think it’s so much that she is helping them, as its, she is not helping me.
  • Spinning ball number three – mom has decided she wants to finally help me, except it’s that she wants to do, not what I need her to do. She’s on this new thing with her Chiropractor, where they draw blood and do a complete scan of the blood, to see what is wrong with you, what you may not be getting in the way of vitamin, etc. It’s probably a good thing for me, except I’ve been down this path before, with my epilepsy. I’m not really sure I want to go the alternative route again, but I’m getting desperate, and I don’t want to deal with my mom if I say no. When she gets something like this in her mind, she is like a dog with a bone; she won’t let it go till I let her at least try it. So I’m going to let someone stick a needle in my arm and draw a bunch of blood (oh yeah, oh joy – sarcastic for you that can’t tell) just so that my mother can feel like she is doing something to help me, even if it isn’t what I need, just so I don’t have to also deal with the guilt. My mom is excellent at making you feel guilty.
  • Spinning ball number four – Moving. I don’t know if I am dealing with a case of her personalities all wanting different things or what, but I am getting a bunch of mixed messages. With Babylon’s death, my father wants to move to the middle of freaking nowhere. My mom says she doesn’t want to live there, but sometimes I feel like she is only telling me what she thinks I want to hear. She knows I want to stay here, not this house but this area. To me, it is home and the thought of starting over – new doctors, friends, places, etc. – scares the H@!! out of me. Sometimes I feel likes she feels the same way and sometime I feel like if it was for me, my father and her would already be living on his property, because for one thing it puts her closer to Dinah (sister), which is where she really wants to be. She keeps telling me to look for apartments here, but I don’t feel like she really means it; because she keeps putting off the ones I find.

My brain feels fried right now, so I will have to finish this at another time.

Enough Already!

I lost another person that I was close to in childhood to cancer, just yesterday. That makes 2 deaths in less than a week. Which means 2 funerals in the coming weeks, something that I normal avoid like the plague, unless they are for family, but these people are almost like family to me. So I have to steel myself up for them. This is when I really wish I could still drink whiskey. At least it numb the pain and dialed back the anxiety of being around other people. I am feeling extremely sad and emotional but also empty inside. Part of me wants to submerged myself in the pain and the grief and another part of me wants to feel nothing at all. The hardest part of all this is that I am missing my adopted grandmother SO MUCH! It use to be when my parents were gone I’d spend a lot of time with her, we’d do dinner and a movie, go shopping, whatever. It really didn’t matter because I was with someone who loved me for me, without strings or the need to improve on me. I miss having that person in my life; I miss her unconditional love. It’s hard because I keep seeing things that I know she’d love  and I want to share with her but she is no longer here for me to do that. With the death of 2 people this week that I cared about, I’m feeling over whelmed with grief.

I am trying my hardest to find even a reason to get out of bed but there doesn’t seem to be one. Kit, Genevieve, Edith and Beth are all weeping and whaling in my mind, Becca and Sonja Split_Personality_Disorder_by_Rebeccannoyingwant to do something wreckless or maybe shoot-up something, or break something, or release their anger somehow. The Shadow is whispering a very enchanting tune of how nice it would be to join my dead friends, Rose is trying hard to shut down all my feelings and emotions. It’s almost like I can see her in my brain trying to flip switches like you would on a computer getting ready to meltdown; she pulling her hair and cussing. Lola is being quiet for a change; maybe she realizes that now is not the time for her and her needs. But Peter on the other hand is being overly loud and obnoxious. He’s yelling at the weeping girls to shut up that death happens and to get over it; which isn’t helping and just making the crying worse. He’s mad at my wreckless duo because that is not appropriate behavior ever. He’s incensed that “A” would even listen to the bewitching words of The Shadow. That is not the answer and to think it is, is a sin against God and one’s self. Boy, I wish he’d shut up!

To add to all this I am not looking forward to the return of my parents because they are bringing my nephew, Reuben with them. Which means the noise level is going to double; I’ll have the noise going on in my head and the noise going on outside which will be doubled with him here. Plus, he and my mother’s interaction with him ALWAYS triggers me. No wonder bed seems the safest place for me right now.

Depressed = Not Doing A Thing = More Depressed

This whole last week I have done NOTHING. My parents left to visit my sister the day after “the talk” my father and I had, which allowed me to not feel guilty about getting up and getting dressed, with them here I Sad_girl_cryingusually guilt myself into getting shower and dressed. But since they aren’t here I just didn’t feel the need, after the third day I did decide on a shower because I was tired of my hair being oily but then I just changed my pjs and went back to bed. To add to this I’m hormonal and have been in the worst pain so I’ve had to take more pain pills which has totally screwed up my sleeping habits, not that I have much of any to begin with but there is nothing like being wide awake at 3:30 in the morning and not being about to DO anything.

I’m feeling even more depressed because I had all these things I wanted to get done while my parents were gone and I haven’t done any of them. I know that they are going to come home and wonder what I did all week, see that it was nothing and wonder why. Which is making me even more depressed which makes me really not want to get up.

I know that I was processing the whole conversation with my father which made me go inside. Plus there’s the non-stop rain which is giving me a headache and making staying in bed seem so nice but still.

Then yesterday I get a call from my mom that yet another person that I am close to has died. I spent most of the day crying. This person was the only one at my church that was a “spiritual leader” that I felt had never let me down when it came to my abuse issues and dealing with my grandparents. He was there for me, he stood up for me and he never question that I was abused. I feel guilty because I knew that he hasn’t been doing well and I keep meaning to go see him but something else always came up and now I will not get to see him again. I feel guilty that I’m more upset about his passing then I felt about Babylon’s, my own grandmother. And I know logically that is because this person cared about me and I cared about them, which is something that wasn’t true about Babylon. But people are still telling me that they are so sorry for my lose when it comes to her, and they are making me feel like I should feel something. Something that I just don’t feel. Peter is really whipping me with this one because it is his belief that I should have 1) respect for ones elders, 2)  that you should feel love and respect for those that made your life possible, and 3) she was family which means you should automatically love her and feel bad/sad when she dies. None of the rest of me feels this way about Babylon but Peter is not letting is go. It something that he can use to whip “A” with. So I am sad that my friend has died, it’s raining AGAIN, and I have a personality that will not let me mourn my friend without making me feel guilty about Babylon. I think I need to get out of this house and around some people before I go completely over the edge, but I have voices screaming don’t leave the house it isn’t safe outside.

So I am a depressed, agoraphobic, with split personalities about to go crazy here or maybe I am and I just don’t know it yet. I hope at least half of this makes sense because right now I feel like my personalities are jumping in and out and all over the place and I’m not even sure who or which one is in control or if anyone is. OH, and please God don’t let any one else die on me, I can’t handle anymore.

The Stages of Grief

It used to be that you got to wear your grief, in the form of black, for a year after your loved one died. It was a shield and a protection for those going through the grieving process. Everyone would see the black and know that you had lost someone close to you and would give you the time you needed to grieve. We know live in a time where you no longer wear black for a year of mourning, within weeks people forget that you have suffered great lost. It seem like everyone wants you to pick up and keep going or get over it already. The problem is that grief takes time and it has many feeling that go with it.

Some say that there are 5 stages of grief while others say that there are 7 or only 3. All I know is that I am feeling them. They are not a yard stick that you can use to measure how close you are to being over your grief because you don’t always experience them in order and you sometime get stuck on some while other you fly right through. I have gone through what different people have said about the stages of grief and this is my list:

  1. SHOCK, NUMBNESS AND DENIAL – You will probably react to learning of the loss with numbed disbelief. You may deny the reality of the loss at some level, in order to avoid the pain. Shock provides emotional protection from being overwhelmed all at once. This may last for weeks. This is how I dealt with the week leading up to my grandma’s death and the month following it. If I stayed in the numb-denial mode I didn’t have to feel the pain. I was going through the motions but nothing really seemed real. Part of me is still stuck in this stage, because as long as I don’t go to grandma’s house she doesn’t really feel gone.
  2. PAIN AND YEARNING – As the shock wears off, it is replaced with the suffering of unbelievable pain. The painful realization of the loss hits full-force and you will yearn deeply for your lost loved one. Although excruciating and almost unbearable, it is important that you experience the pain fully, and not hide it, avoid it or escape from it with alcohol or drugs.  I have been having sobbing spells in the middle of the night for weeks now; it feels like my heart is breaking into a thousand pieces and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I yearn for my Grandma and when I realize I can no longer have her; I yearn for my old ways of dealing with pain – cutting, alcohol and disassociation.
  3. ANGER – Frustration gives way to anger, and you may lash out and lay unwarranted blame for the death on someone else. Please try to control this, as permanent damage to your relationships may result. This is a time for the release of bottled up emotion. You may rail against fate, questioning “Why me?” Everything and everyone makes me mad. I’m anger at everyone and nothing. Other issues I have with being angry are bleeding over into this.
  4. DEPRESSION, SADNESS AND WITHDRAWAL – The storm of intense emotions of the second stage gives way to a period of heavy sadness, silence and withdrawal from family and friends.  This is a normal stage of grief, so do not be “talked out of it” by well-meaning outsiders. Encouragement from others is not helpful to you during this stage of grieving. During this time, you finally realize the true magnitude of your loss, and it depresses you. You may isolate yourself on purpose, reflect on things you did with your lost one, and focus on memories of the past. You may sense feelings of emptiness or despair. Already those around me are pressing for me to move on and away from my grief when all I really want is to be left alone with it. This of course is making me angry.
  5. ACCEPTANCE AND MOVING ON-The final phase is to let go of the need for the lost loved one and to move on with your life. Sadness will lessen greatly, and new interests will gradually occupy your thoughts more and more, crowding out the misery and desolation. The final stage is when you “pull your life back together.  During this, you learn to accept and deal with the reality of your situation. Acceptance does not necessarily mean instant happiness, but finding a way forward. The last stage I haven’t hit yet, because I am too busy dealing with the other stages.

Going Back – Part Four – THE END

Being the sole person responsible for the care of someone who is dying is a scary thing. I’m not saying that there weren’t other people around helping to care for my grandma, but the decisions fell on me. And while I have carried a lot of the decision-making for my family in the past, it was nothing compare to this.

Saturday night after the police left, hospice left and Betty, our aide left, it was decided that since we couldn’t get someone in over-night that my friend and I would do it. There was really nothing left to do except give grandma her medicine and wet her lips. We had only called our RN friend to pacify Broom-Hilda, with her out of the picture; we felt she wasn’t really needed.

That night I learned how really long and really short an hour can seem all at the same time. By this point, we’d been directed by Hospice that grandma could have morphine every hour if she needed it. We started out the night with the timer on my phone set for every two hours because that was where she was at. That lasted only till midnight, after that she would start screaming with what little voice she had left, first every hour and a half then every hour. It finally got to the point where I’d just sit holding her hand and when she was in pain again she’s tightens her hold.

At this point, I was telling her it was alright that she could let go now, that she didn’t have to hold on to life anymore. That I understood that she wanted the pain to stop and that it was ok to let go. I’ve heard that sometimes that is all that the person is waiting for, permission from their loved ones to let go. As much as it was hurting me, I wanted her to feel that it was alright to let go. The problem was that I wasn’t the person she was waiting for to give her permission to let go. She was waiting for my mom.

After a sleepless night, Sunday rose with the hope of relief. If they left early enough my mom should be home no later than noon. But again my family let me down with this. Because my mom was traveling with her brother, his kid and grandkid, my father and her friend, she felt that she couldn’t push them to leave early, because this was the last day of their vacation. So instead of being home by noon, were just leaving at noon, after sleeping in and having breakfast.

All week they have been enjoying a wonderful vacation in the mountains while I have been dealing with death, now I really need them home and they are acting like nothing is going on. There I was, I hadn’t slept at all in over 24 hours and very little in the last week, my nerves are shot from all that has happen, I really want someone else to take over and what do I get – we be there when we get there. All I’m wondering is if they will be in time. With each passing hour Grandma is getting worse and worse. I have to call the Hospice nurse again, because the medicine is no longer taking the pain away. The Hospice nurse finally gets grandma to put on the oxygen so that every breath is a gasp, she up the dosage on the morphine again with a note the at this point we need to give her what is going to keep her comfortable and that we should be prepared. That she’d be surprised if grandma made it through the night.

About this point, 3 or 4 pm, my mom FINALLY shows up. I’m trying to give Grandma more medicine; mom’s trying to get her to wake up enough to know that she’s there. And mom gets mad because grandma can barely get the liquid meds down, plus she wants grandma to be more awake so she can tell her good-bye. I’m ready to yell if you wanted to say good-bye and for her to hear it that you should have been here days ago. Now the most important thing is that grandma’s not in pain, not for you to ease your guilty conscience. After about other hour, I just can’t take any more. I go in to say my good-byes knowing that this may be the last time, I kiss her on the forehead, and I go home, were I crash, go-out-like-a-light, sleep like, well, the dead till I get the call at 7 the next morning from my mom that she is gone. That she is finally at peace. It is the one thing that I have been praying for since this whole thing started.

Going Back – Part 3 – Chaos

This is the part I have been putting off writing about because it is the hardest. From Thursday on I had to deal with a chaos of emotions while deal with the real chaos that was going on around me. To survive I turned those emotions completely off. To start let me say that before all this with grandma happen, we thought it would be a good idea to get our house tented for termites while everyone was on vacation. So on top of everything else I had to pack up myself, my dog and my things and go stay at my uncle’s house from Thursday till Saturday. This meant that I couldn’t even go HOME after dealing with all of this. I had to stay in a strange house, in a strange bed, which sent my hyper-valiance on over-drive. Meaning little to no sleep.

I got to grandma’s on Thursday expecting things to be at least a small bit better because we now had the hospital bed and I was hoping that Grandma and the aide got some sleep the night before. What I found was worse than the day before, because we could no longer get grandma out of bed. Touching her anywhere made her scream in agony. Hospice still had her on Vicodin which wasn’t touching her pain, and which was becoming increasingly hard for her to shallow. Grandma wanted back into her wheelchair so that she could be in the kitchen looking out the window. There were only 2 problems to that – one was the afore-mentioned pain that made moving her impossible and the second was the blood blisters the size of golf balls on the bottom of her feet. The blood blisters were a side effect of her spending the last 3 days and nights in her wheel chair and not having the strength to even keep her feet on the petals made of them. Of course as she is screaming about getting in her chair so she can be in the kitchen my mom calls. Then I’m getting it from grandma, mom and mom’s nurse friend about if she wanted to be in the chair we should put her in it. I hang up the phone on mom and her friend and try first to deal with grandma. I finally get her calmed down when I show her, her feet and explain that until the Hospice nurse comes I don’t want to put her in her chair. This took about a ½ an hour then I had to call my mom back. I barely say hello and she starts on me about if grandma wants to be in the chair that is where we should put her. At which point I go outside and completely lost it. I tell her that unless she want to get her a$$ back home and start dealing with this that she needs to shut the F@(% up and quit telling me what to go because she hasn’t a clue what is really going on. Then I hang up on her again; (this whole this with my mom/family trigger all the alone/abandon feelings I had right after I came out about my abuse, which didn’t help me deal any better).

The Hospice nurse finally came with the drugs, but we had to wait for the doctor before we could change any of the medications. Foreseeing another battle with grandma because she only like her doctor and no other doctors to look at her, I had to ask the Hospice doctor to lie to grandma and say he was a nurse sent by her doctor. Nurses, grandma would allow, another doctor she wouldn’t. Thank goodness the Hospice doctor was so understand and when alone with it. We got her through his exam then I had to go through what health condition she had or may have had in the past, what medications she was on, what medications he wanted to change (namely all of them), and the deal with administering morphine. When I asked about her life expectancy at first he was no committal with it could be anywhere from 2 weeks to a couple of months, but after talking with me for over an hour as he left he pulled me aside and told me that he would be surprised if she made it through the weekend. While this is something that I already knew in my heart to be true, it was earth-shattering to actually hear it out loud.

Friday was worse and better because grandma was a lot worse, but my friend came from out-of-town to help. She and grandma were close and it helped to take some of the burden off my shoulders when it came to dealing with her. But I still had to deal with the nurses and doctors and Betty, the 24 aide we had, plus to make things worse we had a hurricane coming. Like it wasn’t enough already that I had to deal with grandma dying and all that, that involved, plus starting at someone else house and all that that involved, but let’s just add a hurricane on top of everything else, and I wish I could say that the hurricane was the worst thing that happened, but it wasn’t.

Saturday, is the day that I shall forever after think of as H@!! on earth. I’ve know my adopted grandma for about 15 years give or take a few years in all that time I have only every HEARD of her nieces and grand-niece, I have NEVER MEET them. On Saturday, Broom-Hilda*, grandma’s grand-niece decided to blow into town. At first I was nothing but nice to her, trying in every way I could to make her feel welcomed and to help come to terms with what was happening. About noon she decided to go for lunch and I decided that I really needed a break so I left Betty and my friend there. When I got back about five pm the whole atmosphere in the house was different. Betty and my friend were in the living room, Broom-Hilda was in with grandma and she was basically kicking grandma’s spiritual leader out of the bedroom, she wouldn’t let me in the bedroom and she keep trying to close the door. When I asked my friend what was up she said that instead of going to lunch Broom-Hilda went to the police station, and then when she got back she called the police, trying to get everyone kicked out of the house. All I can say is I’m so glad that grandma had the forethought to make my mom power of attorney a year and a half ago, which basically gave Broom-Hilda no rights. When the police came to the house the first time (the time I wasn’t there) they asked a bunch of questions about grandma – stuff about her health, her birthday, who her doctor was, etc. Broom-Hilda couldn’t answer a single question, not even what her birthday was, the police finally look at my friend for answers and she rattled them all off from memory because she know and care about Grandma. The police on that visit decided that they really couldn’t do anything, and left. My coming back plus the fact that Betty was leaving for the weekend, sent Broom-Hilda over the edge. We had call one of our friends who was a RN to come help us for the night because the agency couldn’t get anyone in till morning(thanks hurricane) and because of the police and Broom-Hilda’s accusations that we were killing Grandma we wanted someone who was an RN there. At this point, Broom-Hilda said she wanted us out of the house, which I wasn’t going to do so I said that I was going to call the police. When I went to pick up the phone, she pushed me out-of-the-way, yelled into the phone that “we were trying to kill her”, dropped the phone then hung it up. There were 6 people in the house beside her and grandma and all of them were at least 3 feet away from her looking at her like she was crazy. She then throw some of grandma’s medicine at my friend who been to pick it up only to have Broom-Hilda almost rip her hand off. The police called back during this and I answered the phone and calm explain what was going on. The 9-1-1 operator said that they had 2 cop cars on the way, and to stay on the phone. About this time Broom-Hilda noticed I was on the phone and came after me again. She pushed me into grandma’s china cabinet and started yelling at me and shaking her fist. It’s a good thing this triggered a memory of my mother which keep me frozen till the police came (good thing they came in like 2 minutes) otherwise I think I would have flattened the B!$%^.

About the same time the police showed up, the Hospice nurse showed up for her daily visit. Two of policemen had to end up taking Broom-Hilda outside, because as the Hospice nurse put it “she was violating the sanctuary of the death chamber” with all her goings on.

The police, who had already had to deal with Broom-Hilda, twice that day, took one look at our power of attorney paperwork, and Broom-Hilda’s record of being in and out of the nuthouse, and decided to escort her from the house. Added to what they had found out on the early visit that we know more about grandma then Broom-Hilda did, the Hospice nurse finished up her exam of grandma and told the police that there was no signs of abuse what-so-ever. She went on to say that grandma was one of the best look after patient she had ever had (this made me proud) and that all she saw was the normal slide downwards that comes with end of life. I stayed calm till the police and the hospice nurse left then it hit me like a ton of bricks, and I went into one of the worst panic attacks I’ve ever had.

* Remember names have been changed for the sake of the innocent and the not so innocent.