The Worst Thing In Life Is Death

I keep thinking about my Nan recently. The way she’s gradually becoming more frail.

I don’t really remember a day where she was fighting fit and jumping about, she’s always had to catch her breath when walking long distances – that’s my Nan. That’s who she is and has always been. But once upon a time she could play with us, take us places with my Grandad and enjoy life.

Now, it’s such a different situation, especially recently and I hate it. I hate seeing her struggle to walk from one room in her house to another. It’s clear she’s in pain. She relies on her wheelchair if she ventures out the house, which again has gradually decreased.

My Grandad does a lot for my Nan. It’s amazing really because without the love he has for her, my Nan would probably be in a home having nurses care for her. He does her home dialysis 6 times a week.

They have P1 twice a week. I keep trying to reduce it because I do feel that they need a break and Nan is struggling to keep her patience, but they insist on seeing her. They love having her and she loves seeing them too. I’m upset to think that P2 may never have that bond with her Great-Grandparents.

I spent my childhood with them. Pretty much all my memories include my Grandparents. I’ve been on countless holidays and day trips with them. My brother unfortunately hasn’t had as many of these memories due to ill health of my Nan and generally old age creeping up. I’ve been so lucky!

I have no idea what I’ll do when the time comes for us to say goodbye… But for now I try to spend as much time as I can with them both. The worst thing in life is death.
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