I am Humanimal.  The once and present grandparent-sitter.  So, I guess that makes it twice.

  On my father's side, my grandmother died back in the eighties; 1983 I think.  Possibly a little earlier.  I was 8 most of that year... in '83, I mean.  I didn't really have much of a relationship with her.  I have about 1 memory of actually interacting with her, and it's vague.  She seemed incidental to me.  I remember that I went to her funeral, but no memories of it.  Some time after I got home, I cried, but pretty much only because I thought I was supposed to.

  On my mother's side, my grandfather died before I was born, so not really much to say about that.  I basically grew up with one grandfather and one grandmother, split between parents.  It's not a big deal.  I'm just giving back story, though there is an interesting symmetry to it.

  Well back in '99, I think, one of my grandfather's cows stepped on his foot, breaking it.  He spent some time in the hospital, and things went downhill from there.  His foot healed, but something was wrong with his thigh.  FYI: other family members know more details than I do, so know that my vague explanation is due to my personal ignorance.

  He had to walk with a cane, and then with a walker.  At some point his kidneys gradually lost function.  He eventually was bedridden and unable to speak.  I think it was December 30, 1999 when he eventually died of renal failure... or starvation.  Who knows?  What can you do when the person doesn't want, let's say life-prolonging medical intervention for the later stages, but is physically unable to eat or drink, or talk?

  He was back home for most of this process, and was at home for all of the end.  For pretty much a year, I effectively lived with him.  One of his daughters split the 24 hour day with me.  Sometimes I went home in the morning, and sometimes in the evening.  A home-care worker came for some hours during the middle of the day.  Another came to help him bathe.

  I, being the one that spent the night there, had the lion's share of dealing with him when he was delusional.  When he woke up from sleeping, he often believed that what he dreamed had actually happened.  Most of the time it wasn't serious, but once, at about 3:30 AM, I did have to physically prevent him from leaving the house.  And he kept an electric cattle prod by the door.  I was very thankful that I managed to avoid finding out what it felt like.

  Taking care of the disabled and delusional elderly is a lot like taking care of a baby, only 50 times more difficult.  They're heavier, harder to control, and the feces is often less contained.  What a lovely year that was, for both of us, I'm sure... and everyone else involved.

  But before you start thinking too highly of me.  I would have loved to have let someone else deal with it.  And not just because that year shot my metabolism.  For the most part, I am a true Aries, which includes being selfish, which is not to be confused with greedy.  I'm by no means greedy.  It all really cut into my personal time and kept me from many of my regular activities... especially sleep.  It was a bit of a relief when he finally was unable to leave the bed at all.

  I was also relieved when he finally died, though not for entirely selfish reasons.  I have no idea how much he may or may not have actually been suffering, especially given the mental state, but it was definitely an end to the mental suffering of others.

  So, fast-forward to 2006.  My grandmother, who smoked frequently for most of her entire life, got lung cancer.  SHOCKER!!!  Enter chemotherapy sessions.  Again, I'm useless for details, because I'm just really not that actively interested in them.  I have no use for them.  Knowing them will make no real difference in my life.

  I've heard some different life-expectancy time-frames from a few weeks to 6 months.  There was brief risk of the cancer moving to her brain, but I guess they got it all in time.  As far as I know, she's clean now.  The only problem now is that she's weak.  She can walk with a cane, though she's been using a walker, and she can't walk extensively.

  My mother and I are the ones that have been taking turns staying with her since late last week.  She's fallen on two occasions while alone.  My typical stay with her is from about 4 pm to 12:30 am, when my mother works.  So, once again, I get to spend hours at a house being kept from my regular activities, and on some days, a 2 year old girl is added to the mix for some hours.  What fun.  Makes me wonder what the future will hold.

  I predict that she'll eventually be confined to a wheel-chair.  An eventual home-care worker will help her bathe.  I doubt she'll ever want to be confined to a hospital and not want to be kept alive with machines, though it may be tricky since it will likely be her breathing that is the greatest trouble.  For all involved, I hope the stage of total physical helplessness is short-lived.

  My grandfather was opposed to hospice, but I'm not certain about her.  She opposed to it, right now, but she's also a bit apologetic about being a nuisance, so, she may change her mind.  The apologies and mentions are not frequent, but they still annoy me a little.  [Have I come off as a complete bastard, yet?]  The apologies and such are completely useless.  They won't change anything.  They're not helping me, and having that attitudes certainly isn't helping her.

  Yes, I'm put out.  Of course, I'd rather not have to stay with her.  But that doesn't, by any means, mean that I'm not going to for as long as is required.  My personal sense of family duty is a bittersweet thing to me.  But it's not like I'm just in a constant state of aggravation.  I take brief moments to acknowledge my feelings, but the situation is what it is, and I gotta do what's gotta be done.

  Her well-being take precedence over my non-essential daily activities.  I'm not complaining to anyone who makes a difference to the situation, especially her.  I just don't like having to be responsible for other living things.  It's one of the reasons I don't have pets.

  One thing I do respect about her is that, to a significant degree, she does not have a victim mentality, but at the same time, she does not let pride get the better of her.  She'll do what she can by herself, and what she can't, she'll ask for help.  Makes me wonder how in the world my mother turned out the way she did.  I dread the possible day I have to take care of her.  Hopefully, my oldest sister will deal with it.

  In thinking about the future deaths of my parents, I'm not sure which it would be "better" if died first, including periods of disability.  I think it might be better if my father went first.  Maybe my mother would then eventually move in with my oldest sister, or something.  I really don't want to make caring for my elderly relatives a tradition.

  Being "needed" by people has kept me from having my own life as it is, and I'm freakin' 31 years old.  I do want to have a notable period in my life where I don't have to worry about taking any kind of care of someone or being "needed", and I'd like to have it while I'm still able to enjoy it.

  This is also one of the reasons why I have almost zero interest in having kids.  I don't want yet another thing I'm partly responsible for, and I really am not keen on the possibility of me being someone else's burden.  For the longest time, I never knew what I feared the most.  I don't have any clinical phobias.  I don't fear death.

  There are two things that you could say I fear.  One thing, though it's not really a fear, as such, is that I'll unexpectedly acquired responsibility for the life of another human, and then fail them.  But the primary fear is that I'll eventually become the burden of someone who didn't choose such things as a job, like a hospice or home-care worker.  Not that I'm keen on being a burden to those kind of people either.

  Here's the worst-case scenario for how I'd prefer to die:  I spend a week or two in a hospital, physically incapacitated other than my ability to speak, and then the time that I go from that to death is a matter of seconds.  I want to have some time to get my affairs in order and have the mental awareness to do so, and I want my burdensomeness to be minimal.  Remember, that's worst-case scenario.

  Ideally?  I'll have about a week's warning of something that will be very quick and painless, and I'll be full able until the end.  That's the general idea, anyway.  And with any luck, it'll be something that destroys my body, so that won't have to be dealt with either.  Maybe slip and bang my head on the edge of an active volcano, and then fall in, unconscious... but still know a week ahead of time that I will die.