The Killer

My dad took Papaw his Christmas present today and my grandpa actually reached for it. It was a plaque that had Papaws navy picture on it and his ship's information. He was in WWII in Hawaii.

Papaw also was able to say my dad's name today. It's so hard making this decision, even though my step-grandmother made it for us. He will essentially starve to death over the next week and a half. I struggle with this a lot. And my dad relies on my opinion so heavily.

On one hand, I don't think Papaw will get much better than he is, and the doctors are convinced that his bowels have shut down, although other doctors have said he has an ileus (which is TREATABLE! Normally with surgery, which he would probably not survive another surgery) So Papaw will not receive any nutrition again and he will slowly pass away. Starvation is what will kill him in the end. And this is what we have CHOSEN to do to him.

And on the other hand, I'm sure he will not get any better than the occasional "ya" and eyes actually being able to focus. That isn't any way to live, but why are we making these decisions? Isn't it God's timing? There is the whole quality of life issue, but who really gets to make that decision? Is starving him to death God's timing? Is that what he is leading us to do? Seems like there could be a more matter of fact way God could handle this, meaning, something actually FATAL kills him.

My step-grandmother is peaceful with what she has decided. But she hangs on the doctors every word. She believes everything he tells her. HE is the one who took him off the blood pressure medication in the first place, and that lead to his stroke. You see the dilemma? It's fishy to me.

To sum it up, did I agree to let them take away any life sustenance just for my own good? It's easier knowing he's in heaven than seeing him laying helplessly in bed. Did I comfort my dad with this when I was actually selfishly comforting myself?