I've never seen someone die before.

It started at the middle of June - my grandfather ("Papa Joe") was scheduled to be have a biopsy from his prostate. He was put into the hospital a week early because he was dehydrated. I was only a few days from my layoff date at work, so it wasn't a big deal - I would come home and move my stuff into storage and then be with my family. Well, the biopsy results were inconclusive - it took a CAT scan and a "scope" to determine that the cancer wasn't in his prostate, it was in his bladder - and it was advanced.

He wasn't a candidate for chemotherapy and surgery would only delay the inevitable. There were a few things we could do to prevent the kidneys from failing, but it would only lead to a more pain in the long run. He was awake and aware for well over a week before falling into coma. He was tired most of the time, but he could still talk. Many friends came to visit, especially those who he had cut hair for many years (decades even). He was THE barber to go to in my hometown - over 55 years of service. Even when he was in the army in World War II, he cut Eisenhower's and Patton's hair. His friends had joked that after he retired, there were some pretty bad hair cuts downtown. There was one comment that everyone seemed to make about him before they left: "His color is great, you'd never know he was sick".

My mother and I knew it wouldn't be long. Since I had arrived back in town on June 22nd, we had spent nearly every waking moment with him. On July 4th, the hospital wouldn't let us keep him there any longer since he could get the same care at the nursing home ("keeping him comfortable"). We got him back to the nursing home and we settled in again on the evening of the 4th. He would open his eyes every once in awhile. He could hear us, but he was barely responsive. The coma was starting to take hold. The morphine kept him comfortable while the breathing treatments and oxygen allowed him to breathe easier. His blood pressure was fine until July 8th when it dropped to around 80/50.

There were several times during this last week when I thought he would pass during the night. Even when I was there, I kept an eye on his chest. Sometimes the breaths would be far between - a form of apnea catching him off and on. The first time, I thought it was over, but a few seconds later he would be breathing normally again. It was the strangest thing - I found that I wouldn't take a breath until he did.

After his blood pressure had dropped, one of the head nurses said "It'll be tonight". Well, this goes to show you how strong he was - he didn't pass until three days after that comment. It happened on the evening of July 11th. My mom and I were in his room at the nursing home. I overheard his breathing change, and I got up to check. He was breathing short, quick breaths. I was standing by one side of his bed, my mom on the other. We began speaking to him (as we had been doing throughout all this), and we each took one of his hands. A few minutes later, his breathing stopped and my mom and I looked at each other. He was on a "no-code" (do not resuscitate). After one of the nurses arrived, there were a few stray breaths, but then it was over.

He went peacefully without pain. And amazingly, his color was with him until the end. He was a stubborn man (probably where I get it from) and he wouldn't let the predictions of any doctor, nurse, or statistic stand. He outlived the doctor's estimate by nearly two weeks, the nurse's by three days, and overall he outlived 11(eleven!) of his roommates in that nursing home for 4 years (the average stay in a nursing home is only 18 months).

It was originally the family's business, as his father was also a barber. During his last years of barbering, his shop was downtown across the street from City Hall. It was a small shop with four comfortable waiting chairs and one (really comfortable) barber chair. If you walked in during lunch, he usually had Rush Limbaugh playing on his quadra-phonic radio. He usually had one person in the barber chair and at another person waiting. The talk in that little building ranged from the football team from the local university all the way to the latest gossip about the mayor and the city council.

All the businessmen in the area would come to get their trim, shave, and sometimes a neck and shoulder massage. One summer, I worked in his shop to shine shoes. I probably heard more stories around that barber chair than I ever did around a campfire.

Of course, we will miss him. But it's hard to believe he is gone when so much of his spirit is still with us. Even his quotes like "Too much sugar for a dime" and "A hundred years from now they'll never know the difference" still stick with us.

One thing is definite though: Ever since my grandfather retired, there have been some scraggly-looking haircuts downtown and everyone knows why.

Jas