I found this site about a month ago after Poppy fell the day before Thanksgiving, and then whole downhill slide began, ending with him entering hospice. I found all of your support and knowledge to be so helpful, you can't even imagine.
So here I am now after hospice. Poppy lasted two weeks, and died on the 24th. I visited every day, and cried every time I was there for what he was going through. It was gut-wrenching to see him waste away, stripped of all his dignity, so frail and helpless. The last couple of days, I don't think he knew who I was. He had bedsores that never healed, and I was there a few days before he died when they were changing his bandages. I will never forget how much pain he was in. He lay there whimpering the whole time, asking them to stop, and the aides would say "I'm sorry" to him because they knew they were having to hurt him. He had stopped eating and drinking, so by the last days I couldn't understand him because his mouth was so dry he couldn't pronounce words. He was so weak and frail.
I'm sorry if this is too much information, but these are my last memories of him and it hurts so much. The other members of the family saw him on a "good" day and have those as last memories to cherish, while I am haunted by those last few days. And so what good did it do if he didn't even recognize me? I have so much grief right now. I know it will get better in time, and I am trying to replace these images with the thought that he's not suffering any longer, but it's not always successful.
I didn't know hospice would be so awful. My mom is still alive, but God forbid, I don't know if I can ever go through this again. If anyone has any advice or thoughts, or even just one of those little hugs, I could sure use some.