Gramma...again...

I saw her.

And I hated it.

It wasn't even like seeing Gramma. We had to wear gowns and gloves. She was so weak and frail. She could barely move or talk, she kept falling asleep. She had two catheters in, her arm is still completely black and blue from falling nearly a month ago. She hasn't eaten in weeks - little bites here and there - but the nurse said Gramma has basically stopped participating in or responding to treatment. Dad tried to feed her one bite of pineapple from a fruit salad that was there - ONE bite. And she chewed it a little and then had me get a tissue and spit it out into it. She says she can't swallow. It was all horrible. I read her a card that was there that had arrived from Aunt Millie and it was all I could do to fight back tears. I left the room crying. I know she has given up.

Dad doesn't want her last days to be fighting about whether she's doing the right thing, or have people who are angry at her around, and I understand that. But I am angry. Its her life, I know, but I don't understand why she's not fighting for it anymore? He just went up to the hospital to try and feed her soup... I called my brother Mike and told him to come home this weekend to say goodbye. I don't know if I can go see her again. Just typing that makes me cry.

I have to say goodbye to my Gramma.