Epiphany

Epiphany:
Merriam-Webster’s collegiate Dictionary, 11th Edition (2003)
epiphany noun (plural -nies) Etymology: Middle English epiphanie, from Anglo-French, from Late Latin epiphania, from Late Greek, plural, probably alteration of Greek epiphaneia appearance, manifestation, from epiphainein to manifest, from epi- + phainein to show Date: 14th century 1. capitalized January 6 observed as a church festival in commemoration of the coming of the Magi as the first manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles or in the Eastern Church in commemoration of the baptism of Christ 2. an appearance or manifestation especially of a divine being 3. a. (1) a usually sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature or meaning of something (2) an intuitive grasp of reality through something (as an event) usually simple and striking (3) an illuminating discovery, realization, or disclosure b. a revealing scene or moment

I had an epiphany (see definition 3 above) of sorts at my grandmother’s house this past week. Until that moment my mindset was “let’s fix this,” much as it was after my mother, Carol, was diagnosed with lung cancer. On my first trip home, after receiving mother’s medical news, I arrived like gangbusters, ready to take on the entire Houston, Texas medical community to find a cure for my mother. I passionately and positively roused the rest of the troops (family) and convinced them all that a cure was in the cards for Carol Louise Owen Primo because we were special, we were blessed, we were determined. Four months later, when the battle was over and Carol was gone and hindsight was focusing in on twenty-twenty, I realized I was wrong. If I could repeat my mother’s final four months I would arrive at her house a kinder, gentler daughter to enjoy our last days at home with the help of pain killers instead of in the hospital undergoing procedures and pain. I can’t blame her doctors, they all fell in love with my mother and wanted to cure her with the same vigor that her family was demonstrating. No one knew when it was time to accept fate.

I found myself in the same “champion of the sick” mode when I entered my grandmother’s bedroom to make her get out of bed, to make her go to the surgeon’s office so we could find a way to cure her. I quickly remembered that no one can make my 103-year old grandmother do anything.

When I saw her frail-bird body lying under the fluffy down comforter, and when she politely, yet firmly, told me “No,” it came upon me, as an epiphany, that she was right. She did not have to get up from her soft, warm cocoon of a bed. She did not have to do anything. All of the frantic energy I was focusing into finding medical help for her ebbed. I lay down beside her, felt the softness and warmth she was wrapped up in and realized she was still the leader of our family, still in charge in spite of her frailty. I was at peace.

The term “quality of life” is much tossed about when a person has died of cancer after grueling months of chemotherapy and radiation. I have rarely heard the same term used when talking about old age and illness. What is quality of life at 103? I think it is staying at home and staying in bed as late as you wish – warm and snuggly under the covers. It is eating what you want, when you want. It is having your family around you to minister tender loving care. It is knowing you are loved and respected and held in esteem. It is when everyone around you allows you the dignity you have earned during your long life. It is calling your own shots and making your own decisions.

I am proud my grandmother is enjoying such immense quality of life at her age. I am sorry Carol didn’t have the same opportunity, I hope I will.