It’s been a tough week and that’s easy to assume considering that I haven’t been that present on WordPress. It’s been a week of decisions, a week when we (myself and my mother) were responsible for grandpa’s life, a week when we felt guilty, confused, lost, useless and so on. 

Since this event when he had a stroke we kept facing hard decisions that were impossible to make. Grandpa used to be a doctor and he used that to diagnose himself. Almost 93 and with a stroke still he has a perfect brain when it comes to the job he had. The morning after his assumed stroke he asked for a mirror and it didn’t take him long to realize what happened. 

Grandpa loves the comfort home can offer him and he loves being pampered by as many people as possible. We’ve tried getting him to the doctor and he refused. During his entire life he only went to the doctor a couple of times and that was for a surgery that couldn’t wait. He is terrified of doctors and hospitals and would rather lay in bed and wait to be taken by the angels than go to the hospital. It wasn’t the first time we had to struggle with his decision. 

Besides the fact that he is lucid and sane and expressed his desire to remain home there was also another thing contributing to the situation. This might sound crazy to many people but in my opinion, each of us is free to decide regarding our own life. If someone tells me “I know I have to go to the doctor but I want to stay home in bed and whatever happens happens” I’m fine with that. Yes, it’s painful to see a loved one waiting to die but it’s their choice. I am against forcing anything onto anybody as long as they are thinking straight. This time is was his choice and, as painful and as hard as it was for us, we did our best to adjust. 

As you can read here we’ve hired people to be around him 24/7 and to look after him in any way he wanted and we were expecting the worst. But things were getting difficult because we got stuck trying to find carers especially right now, before holidays and it was impossible for me and Mom to look after him by ourselves. 

Meanwhile, I’ve remember meeting a friend of mine, months ago and he was telling me about his grandma that had two strokes and was in a recovery center. Back then I was wondering why this person came back in my life but now it all makes sense. So I’ve called him and he gave us the number of this center. We made contact with the owner of the place, a lovely doctor that touches your soul with his words. He was happy to take grandpa in (even though grandpa would have never wanted it) but he needed some papers from a hospital. We’ve kindly asked this doctor to come home one day and tell grandpa the painful truth: “You will die soon if you don’t go to a hospital!”

And just like that he talked grandpa into going to hospital. We knew he had to stay there for a few days and did our best to not lie to him. He was prepared mentally and emotionally for at least a night at the hospital. 

I have no words to describe the public hospitals in Romania. I know it wasn’t just the one that grandpa was taken to, it’s an entire system that is messed up, there is not even one single good thing in the health system in Romania right now. Yes, I was very blessed to meet the divine nurses that came to our house but being in a hospital for just a few hours made me sick. It’s a shame that only a few of the people in the system have this job because they love it and because they want to help the ones in need. It’s the same problem again, money that is never enough. No one would check on you,  feed you, change you, clean you, give you the treatment unless you stuff their pockets with money. Nurses and doctors are paid ridiculously and wouldn’t be able to make a living without getting the “extra money”. What kind of a country is this where bribe is around in every single aspect of our lives? I did my best to control my temper while noticing everything that was happening there and we decided to pay a private nurse to stay with him at the hospital for a night. Thank God, otherwise I am sure he wouldn’t be around us anymore. 

It was a tough night for him and he kept saying mean things to us, almost believing that we took him to the hospital because we want him to suffer. My heart was broken to see his human side hurt so much and I could only pray for him, that he gets a bit of peace and understanding. 

Eventually the long night has passed and morning came. Doctors decided to let him go after we signed for him. They said he needs proper care and that he has chances of recovery. He was happy to hear that he may walk again and  kind of agreed to be taken to this care center. 

Being an empath during that day was painful and energy draining but I had to be there with him. The moment he was taken to his new room at the recovery place I could feel his pain growing. Bigger and bigger until it filled the room, the building, the city and ultimately the Universe. It broke his heart seeing the people there and realizing he is one of them. Both mentally and physically he is in a better state than the majority of the others but still. It was a crushing realization that he will be staying there for a while, that this place was not home, that he needs so many other people to look after him. 

His pride and independence died that day. We’ve tried answering every question he had but nothing was good enough for him. He got angry and upset with us but mostly disappointed. He felt abandoned in a place full of strangers….

My heart broke at the same time with his and all the events that happened that day made me wonder: “When do you know that what you do is for the best of someone else?” It’s a question that might never get an answer and that might stick with me for years. 

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