While my brother was in the hospital, so was my Grandfather. As a 92 year old man, he was doing very well mentally but had begun having health issues a while back.
While he was admitted to the hospital for 3 days he was kept on oxygen and the original thought was that he would be allowed to return home but would most likely remain on the oxygen...forever. But after about two days, he came off and was doing well enough to have the oxygen sent home with him in the event that he needed it. We were told that his heart was weakening as well. In fact when he had had been hospitalized a few years prior he was told that he had about 4o-60% capacity. This time around...he was down to about 15%.
About a week after he was discharged he began experiencing pain and was taken to the hospital again. This time around he was told that there was nothing that they could do there that he couldn't do with the help of hospice from home. He was told that, at best, he had 6 months to live.
On the morning of March 19th, my Dad went to visit my grandparents and to install a type of "lift" for my Grandfather's recliner in order to help him get in/out of it with ease. He left the house around 12:30pm and a little while after that, the minister from my Grandparent's church stopped by for a visit. She said that she spent some time talking and praying with them both and because they had been unable to make the trip to mass that Sunday prior, she asked if they would like to receive communion. They agreed and no sooner had she given them communion when she said that a funny look came over my Grandfather's face. She asked him if he was ok, to which he replied, "no" and at that point she and my Grandmother decided to call hospice for assistance. A few moments later my Grandfather passed away. He was still sitting in his favorite recliner.
Norman Harold Adelsberger was 92 years old. He left behind my Grandmother whom he was married to for 69 years along with 3 children, 9 grand-children and 18 great-grandchildren. It was a small family but we shared a lot of love. We'll miss this wonderful, quiet man. But I know that he's in a better place, having lived a long and full life. I only hope that I can be so lucky some day.