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Yesterday I got the news that my aunt is having health problems: an enlarged kidney and an aortic aneurysm. I saw it as a good thing, really, because the body scan she had done caught both things before they became major problems. She'll be seeing specialists next week and the following week for each of those problems. As far as I can tell, the kidney problem is highly treatable, and the aneurysm...well, even if she has to have surgery, it's best to repair it before it bursts, and it's done all the time.
So. All good, right? Not so much.
My aunt, however, expects to die soon from one or both of these problems. In fact, while I was on the phone with her yesterday, she said she was going to go clean her house while she felt fine, and throw a lot of stuff out, "so you won't have to do it later."
Sigh. I love my aunt; back before she became a brainwashed conservative Republican (I have previously referred to her here on DU as "my fundie-Catholic, Bush-worshippin', Rush-lovin', O'Reilly- and Hannity-listenin' PITA aunt"), she was great--a fun, younger alternative to my very strict mother (her sister) who would give you the shirt off her back and every last thing in her pantry at the drop of a hat. But for the past couple of decades, ever since her husband died of cancer, she's become obsessed with death. She trolls the obits every day for people she knows, or even sort of knows, or is even RELATED TO someone she sort of knows--and she'll go to that person's funeral, without fail. She spends hours at the cemetery cleaning up the family gravesites. She is on the funeral committee at her church--I'm not sure what-all that entails other than helping with the funeral masses and sending letters of condolence from the parish, but it lets her spend more time with death.
Yeah, I've always considered it morbid, but if it consoles her and fills some sort of need for her, then who am I to judge? (Until she starts pushing it into my life, but that only happens when a family member dies--then she puts on her mantle of "professional mourner" and starts dictating which hymns should be played at the funeral mass. If this were a century ago, she'd be one of the keening old ladies in the parlor by the casket--for everybody in the parish.)
I feel so bad for her. I suspect she kind of wants to die, in a way. She's been fascinated by it for so long, and has been so close to the process for so long (without, I suspect, really understanding what passing means). And now, faced with her own mortality (she believes), she's just about packed it in. I realize she's scared. Anybody would be, in this case. And I will of course be there for her. But I don't know how to get through to her that lots of people face health problems more dire than hers...and live.
I don't know what I'm looking for by posting this. I just need to get this out, I suppose. Kind of a vent, kind of an analysis to figure out how she's thinking and how to help her...or whether I can or should help her at all... :(
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