(no subject)

[andrew_jorgensen]

We transferred my grandmother yesterday from the Clinic to the Hospice House facility of the Hospice of the Western Reserve. It's a gorgeous space, right on the shore of Lake Erie, surrounded by spring blooms, and a wonderful program, with music therapy and art therapy and two 300-gallon fish tanks stocked with the best Lake Malawi has to offer. My grandmother would really enjoy it there, were she to have the capacity for awareness, and I myself am considering contracting a terminal condition just so I can move in. But as it is, it's all a bit wasted on both of us.

I was considering taking in a book to read to her, both based on midnightsjane recommendation that I talk to her and on the Angel episode "A Hole In The World," in which Wesley, by reading A Little Princess to the dying Fred, transforms his public perception from a creepy psychopathic stalker who's a little too fond of firearms into that of a sweet, loving guy who's way too fond of firearms. But I'm very afraid that my grandmother's favorite book is this.

Comments

[atpolittlebit.livejournal.com]

Jane is right. Speaking as someone who worked long term with comatose patients, I firmly believe that they do indeed hear us. And that it's not so much the words but the voices. And, heh, you can always read her your favorite book, since I'm betting you couldn't get three paragraphs into hers and keep a straight voice.

[midnightsjane.livejournal.com]

I agree. I always tell the families of my patients to talk to them, and I am positive that familiar voices get through. As 'Bit says, it's not the words, but the voices. I'm sure reading your favourite book would produce a more soothing voice than hers...I'd probably be yelling by the end of it!
I'm glad your Grandmother is in a good facility; it makes the dying process more like the inevitable end to a good life, than a struggle against it.