My family put my grandmother into long-term care this week. Baba is 88 years old and has always been very independent. Since Gido died in 1998 she has lived on her own in an apartment in a seniors’ building. She was floor representative on the building council, and was extremely active in euchre, knitting and other social events. Last September she had heart surgery to extend her quality of life, so that she could continue to be independent. She would still be independent if she hadn’t then had stomach surgery a mere two months later.
After spending several weeks in hospital, following the stomach surgery, the hospital discharged her on a Friday because they needed the bed. They did not see the note on her chart that said she should be discharged to respite care for rehabilitation. Instead they sent her home in a cab with no followup or discussion with the family. When we found out and went to see her, it was awful. She wasn’t eating, or taking her meds, and she was so frail she could barely move. On Christmas Eve we were able to get her into respite care, thanks to the efforts of an amazing Community Case Manager. Within two weeks, Baba was alert, stronger, eating properly and ready to be back on her own.
Unfortunately, it didn’t last. When she was discharged from respite care she weighed 113 lbs. In the six weeks following, she lost 7 lbs from lack of eating and mismanagement of meds. Her homecare workers called us often to say she was always sleeping. The Community Case Manager returned to do an assessment, and put her on the short list for Long Term Care. In Ontario there is a three year waiting list to get into long-term care, unless you are put on the short list which can be anywhere from one to three months.
We talked to Baba and told her that it was her time to be pampered. She should no longer have to worry about cooking and cleaning and laundry. She deserves to be taken care of, so that she can focus on doing the things that she enjoys. Being in her new place, her appetite has returned. She is eagerly eating everything put in front of her. Her meds are being taken properly. She is finally becoming the Baba that she used to be, spry, social and stubborn.
And then yesterday we got a call from Edmonton. Baba’s sister, 15 years younger, died suddenly Thursday night. While we probably are not able to go out for the funeral our thoughts are with our Alberta cousins.
I find myself reflecting on mortality, not so much mine individually, but more in terms of family. An entire generation of family is passing on, an entire generation that lived through two world wars, a depression and so much more. My Ukrainian heritage is dying just as I’m finally old enough to appreciate it. The stories, the experiences, the perspectives and the faith of an immigrant family who farmed rocks in Northern Alberta are quickly becoming a mere footnote.
As a Christian, I think about the legacy of faith. How do I prepare for the day when I too shall pass? How can I ensure that the experiences of faith that shape who I am will not become a mere footnote in the history of my hypothetical children and grandchildren. There has been much discussion coming from the Emerging Church of revisiting and embracing the faith of the Early Church Fathers, to engage with the voices of Christians who have lived through the centuries, and to remember that our faith is not just for our generation. I think we should not just look at the “big” names, the “heroes” of the faith, whose lives are big and impressive. Rather, we need to look at the “small” names, the unsung “heroes,” those whose lives were small, yet valuable. If Christianity is the “Story of Us,” then we need to embrace the idea that telling the story involves telling the story of our ancestors, of keeping alive their faith, so that each generation can add their voice to the choir of Christian heritage.
-Amanda MacInnis
