by Anita Kando
September 17, 2017
We arrived a few days ago to celebrate Ata's 104th birthday, only to get the shocking news of her fall and likely demise. At first, my natural reaction was that lifesaving measures should begin immediately – after all, a person does not die from a broken leg, right? We wanted to make sure Ata was not in any pain, that she was hydrated, etc, Dr. Laarhoven gently explained that Ata's wishes were being honored, they had already begun pain relief, and that she would remain at home as she had wished. It took only a moment to realize that this was as it should be, as Ata wished, and it was indeed the best course of treatment.
The health care team of doctors and nurses began their daily visits of every few hours. They were supporting Ata's wishes with their gentle care, and they were also supporting her adult children's needs at the same time.
Many years ago in California, Ata shared with me her reaction to her own mother's passing. Over coffee at our kitchen table, I asked her how she was coping with the loss of her mother. She answered that there were so many practical details to attend to right away that she was given a temporary reprieve from her grief. She explained that grief comes a little bit later, but then is replaced by a flood of good memories.
While I cannot spare my husband, my sisters-in-law, all of our children and grandchildren, and Åta's dear friends from the inevitable grief and sorrow that will come, I can encourage them to remember Ata's wise words: grief is short-lived, but memories live forever.
I would like to say one more thing, and that is, Thank You to the health care team for caring for Ata. And thank You, Holland, for the gift of a gentle painless passing that you gave Ata, and the support you gave to our family. No country could have done it better, and we will be forever grateful. The world has much to learn about health care from you. Thank you, Holland.
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