She has great worth and dignity in your sight.

Last Tuesday, my family and I spent an afternoon and evening in a waiting room at the University of Nebraska Medical Center. Grandma Ann had fallen down the day before, and she was having surgery to repair her broken leg. The doctor had said that it might be a good idea for family members to be around for the surgery because, well, they didn't really know how things would go. So, when I got off the phone with my dad we packed the kids (and all of their associated "equipment") into the van and headed for Omaha.

With our rushing around and a liberal definition of the term "speed limit," we were able to see Grandma Ann for a few minutes before she was taken to pre-op. She didn't recognize any of us, though she did seem to appreciate Elsie Louise's middle name. She told us that she didn't know why she had to stay in this bed and that it was not comfortable. She also asked us a few incoherent questions before they rolled her bed out into the hallway.

Grandma Ann has Alzheimer's Disease. She has lived with my Aunt Annette and Uncle Phil in Omaha for a few years now because she has lost the ability to take care of herself. She is unable to carry on a conversation, she has difficulty following even the simplest instructions, and sometimes she gets angry with the people who love her the most, who are trying to take care of her.

When I first heard that she had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's, I wondered if seeing my grandmother be destroyed by an awful, merciless disease would change my opinion on what we euphemistically refer to as "end of life issues." It is easy for me to oppose euthanasia from an academic or biblical standpoint, but I wondered if witnessing my grandmother's suffering might overwhelm my logical, black-and-white position. Continue reading this post »