The Death of Gladys
From James Donahue’s Journal
Doris’ mother, Gladys Harrar, died a premature death. It began when she suffered a bleed-out and collapsed in her home. She was rushed to Caro Community Hospital where she received numerous blood transfusions. One of the transfusions was tainted with the deadly hepatitis C virus. This was discovered after the blood was administered, but hospital people did not tell us. Consequently, by the time Gladys began suffering the symptoms of the disease, it was too late to slow or stop it.
We didn’t realize that there was a problem until she began complaining of feeling ill and Doris noticed that her abdomen appeared extended. We took her for the best medical care we could find.
Fortunately Matt left her with very good medical insurance so we took her to specialists in Saginaw who ran all kinds of tests and tried a variety of treatments. But for her, it was torture to make those long trips from Cass City to Saginaw and back again. She lost control of her bowels and bladder and had to wear adult diapers.
Throughout her slow and agonizing death, Doris took care of her. We set up a special hospital styled bed in the living room of her home. Jennifer, who was sleeping in the rear bedroom, was warned to stay away from her grandmother, and to try to use the bathroom facilities in our little house for fear of her contracting the virus. Doris used medical gloves and masks to care for her mother. The brothers, who were all so anxious to seize the property after her death, offered little help. They rarely came to the house to visit and when they did, complained that the smells were so bad they could not stand it.
I was stuck working in Port Huron and could only come home on weekends so could be of little help. Doris, in the meantime, was overwhelmed by the task of caring for her mother on her own. She persuaded her brother, Frank, to spend one night watching over Gladys while she got some sleep. The next morning Frank stormed out of the house, angry to have been stuck with that job. He demanded that Doris never ask him to do that again.
Out of desperation, Gladys was admitted to a long-term care facility in Cass City. But she was brought home a few days later after Doris discovered that the nursing care was giving little or no care. She found her mother in soiled bedding and bed clothes and the care was deplorable.
She next called on the local hospice care for assistance. It was clear that Gladys was dying. Doris wanted her to be phased out and allowed to die at home if possible. Once hospice got involved Gladys was assured of a good death. She was given all of the pain medication she needed. The instructions were given to stop feeding her and to just allow her to go out peacefully. A doctor examined her once and estimated that she might have another month to live. Doris said she thought she would be dead within a few days. Doris was right.
Gladys went out quietly with Doris at her side. Doris said she was alert and conscious right until the end. This was the last of the string of family funerals that we endured during our time in the little house on Deckerville Road.
From James Donahue’s Journal
Doris’ mother, Gladys Harrar, died a premature death. It began when she suffered a bleed-out and collapsed in her home. She was rushed to Caro Community Hospital where she received numerous blood transfusions. One of the transfusions was tainted with the deadly hepatitis C virus. This was discovered after the blood was administered, but hospital people did not tell us. Consequently, by the time Gladys began suffering the symptoms of the disease, it was too late to slow or stop it.
We didn’t realize that there was a problem until she began complaining of feeling ill and Doris noticed that her abdomen appeared extended. We took her for the best medical care we could find.
Fortunately Matt left her with very good medical insurance so we took her to specialists in Saginaw who ran all kinds of tests and tried a variety of treatments. But for her, it was torture to make those long trips from Cass City to Saginaw and back again. She lost control of her bowels and bladder and had to wear adult diapers.
Throughout her slow and agonizing death, Doris took care of her. We set up a special hospital styled bed in the living room of her home. Jennifer, who was sleeping in the rear bedroom, was warned to stay away from her grandmother, and to try to use the bathroom facilities in our little house for fear of her contracting the virus. Doris used medical gloves and masks to care for her mother. The brothers, who were all so anxious to seize the property after her death, offered little help. They rarely came to the house to visit and when they did, complained that the smells were so bad they could not stand it.
I was stuck working in Port Huron and could only come home on weekends so could be of little help. Doris, in the meantime, was overwhelmed by the task of caring for her mother on her own. She persuaded her brother, Frank, to spend one night watching over Gladys while she got some sleep. The next morning Frank stormed out of the house, angry to have been stuck with that job. He demanded that Doris never ask him to do that again.
Out of desperation, Gladys was admitted to a long-term care facility in Cass City. But she was brought home a few days later after Doris discovered that the nursing care was giving little or no care. She found her mother in soiled bedding and bed clothes and the care was deplorable.
She next called on the local hospice care for assistance. It was clear that Gladys was dying. Doris wanted her to be phased out and allowed to die at home if possible. Once hospice got involved Gladys was assured of a good death. She was given all of the pain medication she needed. The instructions were given to stop feeding her and to just allow her to go out peacefully. A doctor examined her once and estimated that she might have another month to live. Doris said she thought she would be dead within a few days. Doris was right.
Gladys went out quietly with Doris at her side. Doris said she was alert and conscious right until the end. This was the last of the string of family funerals that we endured during our time in the little house on Deckerville Road.