Rites

As the ambulance backed into the driveway yesterday, I knew that once Gerry was carried out, he would not be coming back, in body anyway.
When he woke up, he was short of breath and his legs were very weak. He was also very confused. It was not a difficult decision for me. I knew it was time. I called Jen, my sisters, Mom and our good friends, Carl and Donna. We had coffee, some laughs and fellowship as I got things gathered up. Gerry didn't resist going. He was not really "here". He was admitted and is now in a private room in the Palliative Care unit. He is fighting sleep, as usual. Today he had a shot of morphine, a shot of Versad, a sedative. He tried to get out of bed and succeeded by eventually falling on the floor and having the power of a lift to pick him back up. He had another shot of Versad. This time he scooted to the bottom of the bed. We thought he needed the bathroom so we tried that. No luck! They gave his the third shot, this time intravenously and he dozed off. Gerry was never one to give in easily, even to the bitter end. He now talks incoherently to us. He talks about people who have passed away, his mother, his uncles Erskine and Ernest, old neighbors and friends. I am sure they are beckoning to him. His eyes are darting and blinking. He has a catheter. The priest was in and said the "Prayers for the Sick".

Jen and I are very sad.