(C) Daily Kos This story was originally published by Daily Kos and is unaltered. . . . . . . . . . . Grace and dignity, at the very end. [1] ['This Content Is Not Subject To Review Daily Kos Staff Prior To Publication.', 'Backgroundurl Avatar_Large', 'Nickname', 'Joined', 'Created_At', 'Story Count', 'N_Stories', 'Comment Count', 'N_Comments', 'Popular Tags'] Date: 2023-04-24 Last week, I had a candidate forum with the Virginia Education Association. It was an hour of discussing the issues, what we need to do to address the issues of the day for public schools, our kids, and our communities. It was cordial, informative, and a lot of fun. I didn't have much of a chance to stick around after it was done, because I had a night shift rotation in the ER scheduled to start at 7pm. And things started out full speed, as the often do; helicopters and ambulances arriving from the field with patients having heart attacks, needing emergent surgeries, so forth and so on. Unfortunately, that difficulty was quickly compounded by something very personal. A red-and-black Louisa County ambulance rolled into the bay of my ER. Onboard was an almost ninety-year-old gentleman with a severely broken hip; it seems he'd fallen sometime that morning and hadn't been able to call for help. Thankfully, his family made a habit of calling him several times a day, and so when he didn't respond to a call, quickly went to check on him. In fact, it came to pass that he'd spent more time arguing about not wanting to go to the hospital than he'd spent on the ground of his bedroom. But he couldn't walk. He couldn't bear any weight on his leg at all. So finally, he relented, and his family called 911. And that's how my grandfather rolled through the doors of my ER. It's been a tough last year for my grandfather. He was diagnosed with leukemia in January 2022, and then in February, his wife of 65 years, Margaret- who my kids affectionately referred to as "Grandma With The White Hair" (never any abbreviation or shortened version, just that)- passed away suddenly from a heart attack. We worked to help get his medical bills covered, fought with insurance, ensured he was taken care of in the meantime; with someone visiting several times a week, calls multiple times a day. But, as so many do at his age (I’ve probably seen hundreds of cases like this), all it takes is one bad fall. With the severity of his injury and his end stage leukemia, there was no chance it was repairable. So we called hospice. And took him home. He led a very long and full life. He was far from a bleeding heart (when I told him in 2017 I was running for the Virginia House of Delegates as a Democrat, I probably would've had an easier time telling him I was wanted for some sort of white-collar crime), but he knew right from wrong. He stood up to "massive resistance" to integration in 1960s Virginia, when the easiest thing to do would be to just keep quiet. When he and Grandma found out their son (my father-in-law) was enrolled in a school that was built for de facto segregation, he immediately yanked my father-in-law out of that school and transferred him to an integrated public school. He served in the US Army during the Cold War; he was even in Berlin during the Checkpoint Charlie standoff. When he got back from overseas, he decided he'd seen enough of the world. He bragged frequently about never having crossed the Mississippi River- "I've been to Memphis, and I've been to Orlando, and that's enough." It was never in a condescending way; he loved to hear stories about other people who traveled. He sat enraptured once as our kids shared their stories of visiting Glacier National Park, marveling at our pictures. He just made it clear he had everything he wanted, right there in Troy, Virginia. A family of sons, grandkids, and great grandkids who loved him. A small house near a pond in a quiet part of the county. I wish I could tell you more, but there are more stories in 87 years than could ever fit here. Nothing I say can do them justice. What I won't tell you about is what this last week has been like… particularly the last few days. The only thing I will say is that we grant people in our country so little dignity during death, which is an incredible tragedy that God only knows why we allow to continue. Grandpa was lucky. He got to go back home. He was surrounded by people he loved, up until the very end. So many people don’t have that. Some of the most traumatic things I've ever had to do in the ER revolve around this. I've done chest compressions on a 100+ year old whose family wanted us to "do everything we could", until their ribs finally broke. I've had to watch people cry, silently, in pain- unable to speak because of how bad it was- and watching helplessly as their final hours or days became nothing but an excruciating, hellish nightmare. I've seen people- national names, titans of industry and politics, people who are still semi-household names- and what we let them become. I've lost count of how many times I was the only person there when people slipped into whatever comes next. I always, always make sure someone is there, to hold a hand, to talk to them, to sing to them... people can perceive those things much longer than most want to believe. People deserve dignity at the end of their lives. Not just my grandpa- everyone. Everyone. The last time he was truly awake, on Friday, he asked for chips and ice cream. I went to the grocery store and called my wife- but he'd fallen asleep again. So I bought literally $90 worth of chips and ice cream, every possible flavor and type I could think of, to make sure he had something he'd like. When we got to his house, he was awake. "Oh!" he told me, when I listed off the ice cream flavors available to him, "I'm a chocolate fan!" and proceeded to eat two big scoops of chocolate ice cream. As I left that day with our kids, he thanked me for "buying the whole (grocery) store," and then smiled and said, "I'll see you next time." I don't know where or when that next time will be. All I know I'll miss him every single day until then. Cole Edward Digges, 1936-2023 Many special thanks to the Louisa County Fire Department and to the wonderful nurses and staff of Hospice of the Piedmont. 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