Hospice at Home

Jip’s Grandma has lived nearly a century. Yet when we visit the family home, she always comes across as the healthiest of the three generations of Thai women in the room. Mom needs help to do certain tasks because of her arthritis (though it’s hardly noticeable because her spirit is so strong). Jip of course has lost lots of abilities.

Grandma’s main limitations, other than poor hearing, have mostly seemed self imposed. She would say that she has earned the right to take it easy and be waited on. To her, the idea that older people should hang on to their independence as long as possible is ridiculous. She used to gently complain to Jip that a “younger” (early 80s) woman across the road got more frequent “service” from her family than Grandma did.

This month Grandma is finally getting her wish, although she may not have much awareness of it. Over the last several weeks, age has finally caught up with her. She appears not to really be able to tell the difference between night and day, sleep and being awake. Mom has hired a neighbor to help with some of the basic needs.

When Chao, Jip, Murph, and I drove down last weekend, life was happening all around Grandma. She lay on a small mattress near the center of the living room, but she wasn’t always the center of attention. She was still surrounded by all of the things she has always felt a responsibility to look after—various heirlooms, a little white dog named Diamond, maybe some gold stashed away somewhere—but now they were other people’s problems.

She can’t walk or feed herself anymore, but those changes don’t especially concern anyone, except possibly Diamond, who spends much of his day curled up nearby her. Everyone simply accepts that her time is coming soon. Now and then a neighbor drops by “just to see the old person.” (Grandma may be the longest living resident of Ban Krud.)

During our first visit there after returning to live in Thailand, Grandma told Jip that the two of them might never see each other again. Looking at her sparkling eyes back then, the prediction seemed hard to believe. This time, Grandma is no longer able to say it, but she doesn’t have to. We’re all ready.

Born on Christmas Day

My sister Murph is in Bangkok for two weeks, so Jip and I were able to celebrate Christmas with family for the first time in a while. Putting up a tree in the living room seemed in order. Murph and I inspected the plastic imitation-spruces at the department store but couldn’t bring ourselves to go that route. Instead we opted for long strings of fairy lights, which we strung on two tallish tropical plants that we brought inside from the balcony. With a few ornaments on the branches and a few presents underneath, the trees almost looked like they came from a single stem.

The caregivers by this point are like part of the family, and none of them had really ever had a proper Christmas morning. The one working the night shift happily agreed to stay a little late, and the one working the afternoon came a little early, bearing a fine assortment of Thai treats. By 10:30, all three were definitely proclaiming tidings of comfort and joy.

We let nothing us dismay as we gathered in the kitchen for a good feed, featuring coconut milk something-or-others, sparkling cider, guavas, and a few other things that have never appeared together on any holiday menu that I’ve ever seen. Jip didn’t partake, but she enjoyed listening to the squeals coming from the groaning table. More shrieking followed as we opened a few presents.

By noon things were back to normal. Jip’s daily routine was well underway; the three bottles of perfume that the caregivers had specially requested from America were stashed away where Jip didn’t have to smell them. Murph and I headed off to a quirky attraction that attempts to offer a one-stop tour of the entire country’s most important architecture. The Ancient City’s scale models are placed roughly where they belong on a big piece of Thailand-shaped land our near the airport. Our full afternoon of bike riding past palaces, stupas, and temples was another Christmas first.

Setbacks

In the past couple of months Jip has had a couple of flare-ups caused by her disease—the first backsliding we’ve seen in more than three years. Luckily, she seems to be back to normal now. But these episodes sadden me after such a long period of stability. The caregivers and I have talked together about the possibility that their jobs could get harder in the future.

One unusual sign was Jip’s number-than-usual mouth, which made eating and speaking more difficult. She didn’t seem bothered, but the women all mentioned their concern. That lasted about three weeks. Later, Jip had another low sodium episode. It was easy to fix, but before we turned it around, for about half a day she looked pretty woozy and unresponsive, which was new to this group of caregivers. One in particular seemed quite spooked by the whole thing.

I’d like to think these setbacks will be temporary and rare. They’re also a reminder us to treasure each day. I know it’s a cliché, but happiness is a choice. Jip has always been the greatest teacher of that lesson. It’s best for us to be thankful for all the stuff that is working well.

Getting Exercised in Indochina

Back to Angkor Wat for another chance to run among the temples. Several mates joined up this year, multiplying the fun. In fact the race came at the end of an athletic week. Vinnie, my pal since fifth grade, and his wife Tina met up with me in Vietnam to do some biking through the Mekong Delta. We then speedboated up the river to Phnom Penh, and then went on to Siem Reap by car.

Two years ago, the three of us arrived at Angkor Wat together from the Thailand side. Vinnie and Tina, whose home is in the U.S., enjoyed that trip enough to come back for a rerun. No telling what kind of sporty Southeast Asian adventure we’ll dream up for 2011.