Nanny was through fighting the cancer. (Not done–she always said cakes are done, while she was through.) She didn’t want to go to a nursing home or hospital, so my mom found her in-home hospice care. Not all of the family agreed, some thought she shouldn’t be “giving up.” But Nanny believed she had lived a long and fulfilled life. She was 72 when she was put on hospice care.
The first company that was chosen unfortunately did not work out since they would forget to bathe her, among other things; they were awfully neglectful. Another hospice company was called–American Hospice–was preferrable, but the process was still confusing.
Hospice is not a place, but a type of care. As the American Cancer Society explains, “hospice care provides humane and compassionate care for people in the last phases of incurable disease so that they may live as fully and comfortably as possible.”
Home life changed drastically. People were in and out of the house–social workers, nurses,
home health aides. It was pure chaos. Nurses were different every time, usually we didn’t even know what they were there for in the first place. They constantly had to explain to us what they were doing during the visit. New equipment was brought in, a new medical bed, bath chair, the walker was replaced with a wheel chair. She could be moved from the bed to the chair so she wouldn’t get restless throughout the day, but her favorite place to sit was in her old rocker.
The family didn’t have the resources to stay with Nanny 24/7, but she needed round the clock assistance. My mom immediately turned the search to her best friend, Connie, who was out of work at the time. Connie was close to the family before, but after this ordeal, she has become one of the family. She took care of Nanny like she was her own mother. We will never be able to give enough thanks to Connie for taking care of Nanny in such a loving and caring way.
Every day was a long process for her caregivers, I was just a witness to the painstaking actions that had to be done daily. They would take her blood pressure and prick her finger for her blood glucose levels. I couldn’t bring myself to prick her, even though she was used to it, but I did learn to put strips in the lancet. Many, many other measures were taken–but I will spare you the details.
She had shared her feelings, saying she felt like a burden to the family. It was an extremely difficult time, but she was not a burden. She was our grandmother, mother, sister, cousin, friend–she was very important in all of our lives.
Her eating and sleeping habits changed often. She began to eat less and sleep more. Connie made her full meals, of which she would only take a couple bites. She became finicky about food and refused certain foods. She loved popsicles but adamantly did not want the blue popsicles, they “tasted funny,” as she said. When she no longer wanted to eat, we would swab her lips with water so she wouldn’t be dehydrated. If she preferred a taste of something different, we would swab her lips with juice.
Nanny slept all times of the day when she was bedridden, but told us she had problems sleeping at night. I can only guess that she would watch TV and pray. She was a very religious and spiritual woman. She kept a rosary by her bed and would recite her Catholic 
prayers. Eventually she would silently hold the rosary, but I’m sure she was repeating the prayers in her head. I loved this side of her; she had strong convictions and would not budge from them.
Nanny was always a very positive and outgoing person. At the last stages of her life, she began to fade. She became very quiet and preferred to watch TV, especially the novelas which are spanish soap operas.
Many loved ones would come to visit her in the evening and sit and talk with her. It was very energy draining for her. On several occasions, family would visit from Dallas. My room became known as the “guest room,” and I would stay with my fiance at the time. (I’m no longer with him, but that’s another story.)
I felt the easiest time to talk to her was when she was tired. She looked asleep but I could tell by her facial cues that she could hear me. I may not have said everything I wanted to say, but I told her how I felt. I expressed to her that when she felt ready, she could go. The family would be okay. I’m sure other family members told her the same thing..
