First and foremost, please be advised that this post could be a trigger for anyone dealing with alcoholism, addiction, loss, grief, end if life care, and death. Do not allow morbid curiosity to place you in a space where you’re harming yourself. You can always come back and learn later. Take care of yourself.
Also, before I get into the thick of it, I want to be sure that anyone who might happen upon this post understands some things. I received permission from my sister before I started writing to process my grief. She’s aware that there may be unsavory elements, but that sometimes those darker details may be what someone needs to pull themselves from the abyss. At that time, she had no issues with cognition or memory struggles outside of the norm for an aging person. She was of sound mind and granted me permission to process my grief as I need. She hopes that with my sharing, she might help save just one person. from sharing her fate. Ultimately, we hope that with sharing our experience and our grief, we might serve as a cautionary tale for one who needs to hear it.
My younger sister has struggled with alcohol and addiction for pretty much her entire adult life. Sometimes she did well and had things headed down a good path, but eventually and inevitably something would happen that would completely undo all of the progress that had been made. Her illness has at times cost her jobs, material possessions, custody of her children, pets, friends, family, relationships, her own dignity, and more. This disease has ravaged her time and again.
Those times when she was sober, my other sibblies and I would help however we could. We brought her groceries. We’ve helped cover bills if we were able. We worked hard to give her a good support system and tried to alleviate what we could, within reason. But we always understood that time could be fleeting.
When she was in active addiction, inevitably we would hit a point where we had to step away for the benefit of our own health and relationships. She knew when it happened why it happened. She would usually get angry, self-destruct, and eventually hit that point where she wanted off the ride. The problem is that we couldn’t keep her from getting back on. It was only a matter of time.
Back in March our family received the news that, while not at all unexpected, hit us pretty hard nonetheless. She had entered end-stage liver disease and we were informed that she is not a viable candidate for liver transplant and as such, she had weeks left. And since my sister-in-law is the nicest person on the entire planet, she rallied everyone and we got to work. They’ve been helping to get hospice set up and everything else that falls into end of life care. They’ve also hosted small, private events to celebrate our sister and to help her daughters to create some of the last memories they’ll have with their mother. One is in her mid-20s and the other one is a young teenager.
It’s been challenging to make these good memories because the anger always creeps in. It quietly tiptoes up the back of your neck into the base of your skull and the anger starts trickling in. As we watch her speech disappear, we wonder how she could do this to us. As she loses control of her body and the violent spasms take hold, we ask how could she do this to the girls? As she fights to get out of bed because she doesn’t understand that she’s not strong enough and that there’s a catheter, we ask why weren’t we enough? We know how it works. We understand that it’s not about us. But we feel it all anyway. We’re so fucking angry.
She’s heavily medicated all the time now, yet she still hurts. Her communication is almost nothing. Sometimes we can get clear words or thoughts, but they don’t always make sense. One day she was asking if the trampoline and tomatoes were taken care of. Yesterday she kept trying to get out of bed because she needed to clock out. She periodically and randomly breaks down crying. Sometimes we don’t know why. Sometimes we can get an idea. One evening it was because she thought Taylor hates having to take care of her and that she’s a burden. Once it was because she wanted to help but nobody would let her. It’s terribly hard to watch. I worry if I show sadness it will bring her down more, so I try to keep the blah to a minimum and to be upbeat and light for Heidi.
Earlier this week during one of my visits, I talked with her about when Melina was born. I asked her if she remembered getting upset with me because I made a joke while she was pushing, and it made her laugh and messed up the push. She giggled so I assume there was some recall there. Other times she looks at me and tells other people that I look so much like Diana. I’m not sure if she thinks I’m a stranger or if I’m one of my daughters.
She also has bursts of anger and almost-violence. She’d be violent if she had any control over her body, I think. So when she’s in that mood she calls people names and curses everyone out. I’ve missed those episodes for the most part, thankfully. But it breaks my heard to hear about it.
She’s lost a lot of weight and her skin just kind of hangs on her. It looks like paper and doesn’t feel much better. Her skin is extremely delicate right now and we’ve been advised to very gently make physical contact, even if applying lotion.
On Monday (maybe Tuesday – the time blends together) she told everyone that was the days she was going to die. At one point this week, she was seeing faces. I asked her about them – did anyone look familiar? She said no, then started crying saying everyone thinks she’s crazy. I told her I don’t think she’s crazy at all and she should watch for familiar faces, like Grandma. Yesterday she told my mom that Uncle Bill (he passed only a couple of weeks ago) visited and told her it’s okay.
I asked about smudging the room she’s in. She was alert enough to say that she wanted me to smudge, but to make sure that there wasn’t anyone there that would have a problem with it (religiously I’m assuming). I smudged the entire room yesterday and then smudged around the front entrance of the house. I also brought her a necklace I have with numerous different stones, because I couldn’t figure out which would be best for the energy and activity so I just brought them all.
She had music therapy yesterday. She likes that. I joked that my music therapy is much more violent than what she’s got going on. I haven’t been over yet today. I took meds last night and managed to get some actual sleep. When I checked in, they said she hasn’t been awake since we left last night. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad or what.
I worry about Taylor. She’s legit the nicest human ever. She’s also newly married with a toddler son who is currently experiencing his own terrifying health issues, and she’s preggers with newbie nephew #2. And she’s still working when she can. Between the pandemic closures and status changes happening on top of the personal stuff, it’s all playing hell on her schedule. All of this at once would be overwhelming for the most prepared of us. I don’t know how she’s managing. She’s also one of the only people that Heidi will consistently listen to, so there’s that added pressure of apparently being the one that helps Heidi feel cared for and safe. Whatever your preference for well wishes, prayers, positive energy and such, please send some Taylor’s way. She needs all the help she can get.
I still have quite a lot to get out. I want to explain for those that may not know, what kinds of things can be expected as this illness draws to a close. You know – that whole cautionary tale thing… But for now I need to head out to visit Heidi.
Blessings and Love to you.
Why is Life Like That, Why am I Like That? 