Handling Elderly Loved Ones "Giving Up" On Life, Despite Limited Health Issues?

My grandmother died yesterday. 90 years old, history of cardiac issues, what was left of her original heart finally gave up. She went on Morphine before she could talk to us one last time. We knew she was having a rough go with COVID lockdowns, but there were events in the prior 6 years that lead up to a lot of depression and lack of will to live. She looked forward to our visits, but we had to wait until everyone was vaccinated before we did. It was too long of a wait, and we missed her by 4 weeks. I'm angry that my uncle (her last living child and POA) didn't warn me of her intentions like "hey, grandma's heart is failing, she's taking her first dose of morphine now, call her immediately or else she'll be too high to respond."

She lived separately of my grandfather for the last 5 years, who is the same age (90), due to some differences. They are more less didn't want to grow old together. They both had hoped the other would die first, and young, and let the other spend the rest of their days gallivanting. It didn't work like that.

We're planning on going to visit my grandfather in Florida in April. He's got a colostomy bag which has shamed him into living like a hermit at his assisted living center. A once social guy who acted like the retirement community's mayor, now spends his days watching TV alone. 

He's actually not in bad shape, otherwise. He's still pretty bright in terms of speech and recollection. Has an essentially tremor. His heart hasn't given him any problems, and despite my grandma insisting he had a stroke 20 years ago, you wouldn't know it. For a 90 year old, he's not in great shape, but it could be a lot worse.

I'm hoping knowing that my wife is coming to see him in skimpy Florida appropriate attire will convince him to shower and clean himself up, but aside from that, how do I keep the old man going so death is at least fast instead of slow and lingering? 

It's got to be hard for him seeing other's his age dying around him. My Mother has dementia and has no clue what is going on. That could be better. 

Surrounding him with music and items that were popular during his younger life might help. When my Mother was at home she was surrounded with remiders of her past. Music. Photos. Books and publications. She avoided using the computer and smartphone but loved the old movies on Turner Classic Movies. 

Everything hurts.  Most of the people you knew are dead.  There is no future beyond waiting for death, and hoping it comes quickly and easily.

Why on earth would I want to be alive?  Especially if I believe that something better lies across that great divide?

So he's 90, not at home, and has a colostomy bag. At what point is it not worth it? 
I get that none of us wants our parents to die, but isn't prolonging it for us to feel better pretty selfish?

My parents are 93 and 91 and every time I phone my mother mentions dying. I know they're cooped up because of Covid, but even without that it's still not a full life. They're waiting for the end  and each want to be the one to go first. They're both pretty healthy, Mom's going deaf and Dad's eyesight is poor enough that he can't read anything ,so I guess it's just no fun anymore. It doesn't help that they're 2000 miles away from two children, but my sister is nearby and sees them pretty regularly. I don't know what to tell you pheller. I'm looking for the same answer.

I'm just hoping that I can recognize when it's my time to check out, and jump a flaming Harley off of a hang-glider ramp or something equally awesome.

My ex's grandmother had a terrible end of life, the poor thing.  Her husband died when they were in their early 70s and she was showing signs of senility then.  Things went downhill fast for her.  She lived with my in-laws for about 5 years before they decided they couldn't keep up with the care she needed, so they put her in a home where she completely lost her memory and every day was a complete panic attack because she didn't know who or where she was, nor why this random nurse she didn't remember was undressing her for a bath.  She went on for 11 years that way.

Contrast that with my grandmother who elected to move into a nursing home.  She was senile but happy.  One day as she was getting pretty frail she said "well, I talked to Pappy last night." (her husband who had died three years before) "That means I'm either crazy or I'm dying tonight."  She died a couple days later after Bingo.  

I believe that we are all here for a purpose.  I think [insert higher power of choice] puts us here to experience a path, and as cruel as it may seem to the human part of us, the soul part of us is right where it needs to be.  The bucket might be dented, but the contents got to their destination just the same.

WonkoTheSane (FS) said:

I'm just hoping that I can recognize when it's my time to check out, and jump a flaming Harley off of a hang-glider ramp or something equally awesome.

I've already decided that I'm going to die at 104 because my parachute doesn't open.

We lost my grandpa to a surprise, sudden, heart attack in ’09.  Didn’t know he was at risk; he was an active, healthy, 78-year-old.  It was June and he had just finished mowing hay they day he died.

Grandpa and grandma were attached at the hip, I’ve never met a more equally yoked set of partners, they were one, and the loss of grandpa destroyed grandma.  She went into a deep depression, and just expected to die, she didn’t want to be apart from her partner.

It was a long slow process, but about 4 years later, grandma decided that maybe she wasn’t going to just die now that grandpa was gone.  A close family, and church family helped tremendously.

A cruel twist of fate, age and time wears on all, around the time grandma started to come out of her funk, she had a series of mini strokes (TIA).  This led to short-term memory loss, most of the family called it dementia, but more specifically it was amnesia.  In the moment, Grandma was generally her self, could enjoy and be present with others and her surroundings, but 6-8 hours later she had no recollection of anything that had happened.  Basically, if something happened after 2013, she had no recollection of it.

A curse for sure, but we tried to look at its twisted benefits, new tragedies, were short lived.  Grandma had a few hospital stays, it was tough having to remind her where she was and why each day, but once she was out, she had no memory of it.  She was a passenger in a terrible car wreck with my aunt, hospitalized for about 10 days and in a rehab facility for about a month afterwards, again tough fighting with her, to convince her she needed to be there, as she had no recollection of the wreck.  No recollection of the hospital or rehab afterwards either.

Dad took early retirement to be able to take care of her, he took her breakfast and lunch every day, other family and friends helped when needed too.  We discussed putting her into assisted living, but knew how that would torment her, from her perspective waking up in a strange place every day, not knowing anyone.  Dad was determined to keep her at home as long as possible.

Grandma turned 90 in January of this year, first week of February, grandma collapsed in her kitchen.  We assume another stroke or perhaps aneurysm, EMTs worked on her for 20 minutes, but never got a pulse.  We had her funeral 3 days later and put grandma next to her partner in crime.

Dad is a superhero for all the sacrifices he made to keep his mother in her home, I know that’s not an option for everyone, but if we hadn’t stuck it out during her depression, or after the TIAs, I’m certain we would have lost her 10 years sooner.

As tough as it is, and sure it’s selfish, I’m so thankful to have had those extra 10 years.

My dad was diagnosed with pharyngeal cancer the week before my mom died. He had little interest in anything in the year remaining to him--again, a once-social guy shamed into seclusion by a stoma (he had a tracheostomy installed days before she passed), but more than that, someone in all kinds of pain (physical and psychological) who wanted it to end.

I still have regrets for encouraging him to pursue treatment. His radiation required that a stiff mesh mask that had been molded against his face be placed over his face and literally snapped into the table to hold his head steady while they burned him. In hindsight, I would have supported him in a decision to forego treatment, find some peace in his last days and prepare for the end. But we don't have the benefit of hindsight going into things, and the modern approach to medicine (as well as death and dying) is to ACT. Fight the good fight, don't go gentle, etc. I was relieved, actually, when the docs admitted defeat and transitioned him to palliative care.

I realize this is the opposite of what you're asking, and am not making a recommendation for you one way or the other. Just sharing my own experience, both before and after the fact. It's hard to watch someone you love walk that path at the end of life, no matter what their choices, and I feel your need to help. The best thing you can do is try to listen and offer your best support and encouragement, because that is a lonely time. I’m sending the same vibes to you.

Margie

In reply to pheller :

Short answer:  Could it be as simple as convincing him that he doesn't stink like his colostomy bag?

Long answer:  My grandfather had a colostomy bag the last six years of his life.  Having grown up in a coal mining town and been a miner himself doing a dirty job, he was always concerned with cleanliness and his personal hygiene.  He used to enjoy camping, fishing, and hunting with friends, and going out to eat.  After his surgery, he hardly left his house because he said "I smell like that damn bag."  But he didn't - to me he smelled like Irish Spring soap and Trident cinnamon chewing gum, as he always had.  If you went in his bathroom, you'd catch a faint "baby crap" smell, probably from where he had to empty the bag.  My guess is that nasty smell got up in his nose and he smelled it all the time in his mind, even when no one around him could smell it.  My mom, my uncle, me, and all the other grandkids tried to convince him that he never stank, but he thought we were lying to him.  So he hermitized, like your grandfather did.

I guess the moral of the story is to try harder than we did, though we tried pretty hard.

Hopefully I'll die on my motorcycle and won't have to worry about this E36 M3 (literally).

Marjorie Suddard said:

My dad was diagnosed with pharyngeal cancer the week before my mom died. He had little interest in anything in the year remaining to him--again, a once-social guy shamed into seclusion by a stoma (he had a tracheostomy installed days before she passed), but more than that, someone in all kinds of pain (physical and psychological) who wanted it to end.

I still have regrets for encouraging him to pursue treatment. His radiation required that a stiff mesh mask that had been molded against his face be placed over his face and literally snapped into the table to hold his head steady while they burned him. In hindsight, I would have supported him in a decision to forego treatment, find some peace in his last days and prepare for the end. But we don't have the benefit of hindsight going into things, and the modern approach to medicine (as well as death and dying) is to ACT. Fight the good fight, don't go gentle, etc. I was relieved, actually, when the docs admitted defeat and transitioned him to palliative care.

I realize this is the opposite of what you're asking, and am not making a recommendation for you one way or the other. Just sharing my own experience, both before and after the fact. It's hard to watch someone you love walk that path at the end of life, no matter what their choices, and I feel your need to help. The best thing you can do is try to listen and offer your best support and encouragement, because that is a lonely time. I’m sending the same vibes to you.

Margie

My mom went thru the same radiation treatment and I know that exact regret too.

In my mom's case it bought her 2 years but when the cancer came back she didn't want to go thru it again. 

Even though it isn't what the OP was originally thinking of........at a certain point it's their life to live and end as they feel fit. I really really miss my mom, she never got to meet my wife and they would have got along great for one, but she was in a lot of pain at the end and a medical mistake took her leg too.

It's hard to understand when you aren't that sick/hurt/tired. Try a serious no bullE36 M3 talk with them but, and I can't stress this enough, both sides need to listen.

Hi all. The response are well appreciated. 

I've been talking with Grandpa lately. Trying to figure out his social situation, physical health, and trying to let him know why I'm suddenly so involved. 

I'm also going to take a step back. I think my grandmother had been desperate to see people and "get out". She was suffering some really bad cabin fever. She would have benefitted from living with a family member, I think.

My grandfather is more content. His POA (my uncle) wants to move him into a nursing facility where he can get better daily care. His current ALF can't do more than just help him when he asks for it, and bring him meals. 

I asked him more directly "do you think you have health problems that might kill you tomorrow?" and he replied "the nurses say I'm in good shape, except this damn bag, my pain, and the tremor." He hasn't been to a hospital since his last hip fracture. He hasn't even seen a Doctor in awhile. 

We'll stick to our plans to see each other in a few weeks and talk often until then.

I've got first hand experience with essential tremors, I know how frustrating they are.  Depending on the severity, they can be managed with meds.  Mine are sever enough that my neurologist told me I'm a candidate for DBS, but I'm not real keen on anyone rooting around in my brain.  So, I manage mine with a cocktail of beta blockers and barbiturates.  Took about a year to get my dosage right, and adapting to the barbs was rough, but they make a huge improvement.

I don't know how bad your grandpa's tremors are, but if he hasn't seen someone about minimizing them, and the meds won't mess with anything else he's on/other conditions, they're worth the side-effects, just for sanity's sake. 

He's got the DBS. It worked wonders, but wasn't without side effects. Not sure what other kinds of drugs he's taking.

That's a bummer, I guess they've adjusted it to get as good of results as possible?  I know they won't let him, but I'd want the remote, and be turning the gain up until I was steady or humming.

I've only known one other person with DBS, and they had great results.

Mine are progressing with age, the meds don't work as good as they used to, and I'm only 50 mg from max dosage on the barbs, so DBS is an inevitability for me if I live long enough.  I hate to hear he's not getting sufficient relief from the DBS.

I mean, I think he is, but even with it finely tuned he won't be able to text or type accurately. I'm not sure if there is relation between the Tremor and his bowel control or strength in his legs, but I do know over the years his reaction times have slowed considerably, which is why he was falling and is now wheel chair bound. 

pheller said:

I mean, I think he is, but even with it finely tuned he won't be able to text or type accurately. I'm not sure if there is relation between the Tremor and his bowel control or strength in his legs, but I do know over the years his reaction times have slowed considerably, which is why he was falling and is now wheel chair bound. 

This is totally off topic, but I've been impressed by how much I can accomplish with voice command only on an android system.. Is he using something like that to keep in touch with family?

"Okay google, send a text to N that says "abc def ghi."

So he's 90 years old, broke his hip, has a colostomy bag, has tremors which mean he can't type or do fine motor function, is in pain and confined to a wheelchair?

I'm not trying to be a dick here but........that's not "limited health issues"at all.