I found out this week that my Nonna (Grandmother), aged 92, has Leukaemia. It's still very early in the diagnosis and we're still not sure what it means in terms of how quickly we can expect the Leukaemia to do its damage and how her care will be managed. Obviously the type of treatment given to a ninety year old will be very different to that given to a thirty year old, so there will, no doubt, be difficult, perhaps heartbreaking, decisions to be made. At least, at this stage anyway, it appears that the family and the doctor are going down a path that involves my Nonna largely making those decisions herself, rather than having them made for her. For me that is one small blessing.
Nonna is still so healthy in every other way - strong heart, takes limited medication, still lives independently - that I had almost viewed her as indestructible so this has been a shock, although for the last few years, every time I said goodbye to her, I did wonder if it would be for the last time. It has been over 18 months since I've seen Nonna. One of the things she said to me the last time I saw her - and it was almost a whisper as if she didn't want anyone else to hear - was that every day she had to make the decision as to whether or not she was going to get out of bed that day and that sometimes it was a struggle.
I've thought about that comment a lot since then - the seemingly simple decision that most of us make each day to get out of bed and face the day. Because of course it really isn't a simple decision at all. If I didn't actually HAVE to get out of bed - work, kids, etc - would I? If, every day, getting up was an act of will, would I keep doing it - especially if I knew I was towards the end of my life - no new opportunities around the corner, no real surprises, if I had no obligations and if I pretty much knew what every day was going to be like, would I even bother? Without going into the details of my conclusion, I think that making even that one seemingly small decision - to get out of bed each day - is a pretty heroic effort.
By no accounts has my Nonna has a difficult life. In many ways she has been lucky. She married the love of her life, has three healthy children, 12 grand children, a score or so of great grandchildren. She and Nonno retired early with enough money that Nonna has always been comfortable. She is just as complex - both positively and negatively - as the rest of us. She does have one great advantage over most of us, however, and that is that the majority of her family have stayed close by. She has children, grandchildren and great children calling over most days, and despite the fact that she is decades older than some of them, she still has a good circle of friends.
One of my good friends is a nurse who worked in palliative care for many years and I remember her once telling me - you can tell how someone has lived by how they die. My friend has seen families come together over a death bed and families split apart; she has seen people die alone and seemingly unloved and people surrounded by friends and family. If a life and a death can be measured by how those around us respond to us, then my Nonna need have no concern, and I hope that - as she has already done for so long - she continues to have the courage to get out of bed and face the rest of her days.
Nonna is still so healthy in every other way - strong heart, takes limited medication, still lives independently - that I had almost viewed her as indestructible so this has been a shock, although for the last few years, every time I said goodbye to her, I did wonder if it would be for the last time. It has been over 18 months since I've seen Nonna. One of the things she said to me the last time I saw her - and it was almost a whisper as if she didn't want anyone else to hear - was that every day she had to make the decision as to whether or not she was going to get out of bed that day and that sometimes it was a struggle.
I've thought about that comment a lot since then - the seemingly simple decision that most of us make each day to get out of bed and face the day. Because of course it really isn't a simple decision at all. If I didn't actually HAVE to get out of bed - work, kids, etc - would I? If, every day, getting up was an act of will, would I keep doing it - especially if I knew I was towards the end of my life - no new opportunities around the corner, no real surprises, if I had no obligations and if I pretty much knew what every day was going to be like, would I even bother? Without going into the details of my conclusion, I think that making even that one seemingly small decision - to get out of bed each day - is a pretty heroic effort.
By no accounts has my Nonna has a difficult life. In many ways she has been lucky. She married the love of her life, has three healthy children, 12 grand children, a score or so of great grandchildren. She and Nonno retired early with enough money that Nonna has always been comfortable. She is just as complex - both positively and negatively - as the rest of us. She does have one great advantage over most of us, however, and that is that the majority of her family have stayed close by. She has children, grandchildren and great children calling over most days, and despite the fact that she is decades older than some of them, she still has a good circle of friends.
One of my good friends is a nurse who worked in palliative care for many years and I remember her once telling me - you can tell how someone has lived by how they die. My friend has seen families come together over a death bed and families split apart; she has seen people die alone and seemingly unloved and people surrounded by friends and family. If a life and a death can be measured by how those around us respond to us, then my Nonna need have no concern, and I hope that - as she has already done for so long - she continues to have the courage to get out of bed and face the rest of her days.
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