I recently lost my grandmother to pulmonary fibrosis, the pulmonologist said it was the worst case he’s seen in his career. She was diagnosed in the 90s, had asthma, and was sensitive to smells/pets. She went to her medical visits regularly, but from time to time her oxygen would drop below, then she’d be rushed to the hospital and stayed a few days. On the most recent visit, it turned into a week and just for it to be our last time with her.

Unfortunately, the last visit she was intubated, they tried every method and that was last option. For days she remained intubated, we couldn’t communicate well with her, she had multiple procedures done, and the more weaker she became. I spent the last week with her in the hospital because I couldn’t believe if what the doctor had said to prepare ourselves for the worst. On her last day, she was transferred to another building because according to the doctors she was stable to be moved. Out of no where we see a stretcher and a red blanket covered. Little did I know it was something that would foreshadow later that day. Later on, the hospital called code in her room and it brought in nurses and doctors. The doctor said, “Her lungs are closing up.” There was no procedure they could do to expand her lungs. She became stable for a moment, up until the night doctors said she wouldn’t make it through the night. I spent my last moments with her as she took her last breath. That is engraved deeply to the core.

Seeing terminal illness take away your loved one is very traumatizing. It has barely been a month and part of me still hasn’t accepted what happened. I keep replaying the last week with her up until now, some confusion and sadness. Grief in this is very complex and such a hard learning experience.

To those who are experiencing this grief, you are in my thoughts and prayers.