This is a story that is still ongoing; I will be living with the guilt of not visiting my grandma during her dying days for the rest of my life. This is the first time that I am telling the whole story to anyone, and I get tears in my eyes when I think about what I did, more like what I didn’t do.

On October 25, 2008, when I was twelve years old, my dad -Gregg Neuhaus brought his mother - my grandmother - Barbara Krelle to Lutheran General Hospital. When my dad brought her to the hospital, none of us could have imagined that it would be the last time she would be at her house, ride in a car, have a normal conversation, or even walk without assistance.

In June 2008, my relationship with my grandmother had started to change. I was always pretty close with my grandma and loved her very much. I was her only grandchild, and she always wanted what was best for me.

My grandma spoiled me without limits.
I started playing the piano in first grade, and by second grade, she had bought me a baby grand piano. When I was in third or fourth grade, she wanted to buy me a cell phone, my parents wouldn’t let her, but she wanted me to have things that no one else had. Every August, before school started, she would take me shopping, and she would buy me anything and everything that I wanted, and take me to lunch.
I didn’t love her because she spoiled me, it was the little special things that we did.
Every year, she made her own holiday; we celebrated Pre-Christmas, because she wanted to have a holiday at her house.
My grandma was a horrible cook, and there were good reasons for why she didn’t have any of the major holidays at her house.
I guess you could say we lied to her about the reasons she didn’t have the holidays, we always told her it was because I am allergic to cats and couldn’t spend a whole day with one, I am allergic to cats, but I could deal with it.
At Pre-Christmas she had a stocking for me, and it was always filled with silly presents from her cat.
When school ended every year, she would call me when she knew I wouldn’t be home so she could leave me a message and sing this little song that I think she made up, but I don’t really know. I am not sure exactly how it went, because it has been 6 years since I’ve heard it, but it went something like, “Schools out, schools out, teachers let the monkeys out, no more school no more work now it’s time for fun.”
Every year when school ends, I actually miss that message, even though when she started it I thought she was weird and crazy.
My grandma’s favorite sport was tennis, and she always wanted to do things with me, so I decided to take tennis lessons, so that I could play with her. My cousin Alyssa took the lessons with me, and they were actually a lot of fun. The summer that I was going into sixth grade, we arranged to play tennis. The teams were going to be me and Alyssa vs. my other cousin Joey and my grandma. She only got to play for about three minutes until she fell.
This was the first time she fell, and on Christmas Eve, in 2006, she fell and broke her wrist.
My relationship with my grandma took a turn for the worst the summer of 2008, she even forgot to call me and sing me her song. She was acting crazier than normal, she was having a hard time walking and using her hands, and she was spending all of her time at the doctor’s office.
Visiting her doctors had no benefits, because they were unable to come up with a diagnosis that would cause for alarm, they were as clueless as my family.
My dad knew she was acting strange, but he could not put his finger on what was wrong with her, so these days he is filled with a lot of what ifs? “What if she didn’t live so far away? Why couldn’t I read the signs that she needed my help? What if I visited her more? What if I looked for better doctors and got more opinions? What if I took her to the hospital sooner? What if I talked to her more? Why didn’t she tell us just how bad she felt? Could I have done more?”
These are the questions that still fill my house when we think about her, and these are questions that can never be answered, leaving my family feeling regret, and a lot of guilt.
When my grandma was in the hospital, I referred to her as a “Medical Mystery,” I thought this because doctors would diagnose her, start treating her, just to find out that they were wrong, just to have to start testing again.
My grandma was a heavy smoker, but none of us even thought that it could be Lung Cancer, because she did not have any of the usual symptoms, I had never even heard her cough.
My dad was visiting my grandma everyday when she was in the hospital, even though he was upset with her, but my mom and I refused to visit her due to the many strange events that took place over the summer with my grandma.
In July, my grandma wrote my mom the meanest letter I have ever read, all about stupid little things that made no sense, and she stated her dislike for my mom, and said that my mom would never be family. I was hurt by this because I could see how much it hurt my mom -Lisa, especially because the things she put in the letter were lies about my mom. My mom was nothing but nice to her, even though my grandma was very hard to get along with.
My grandma was always a very harsh critic of my mom, but my mom always just let everything go for the sake of me and my dad.
After the letter, I saw my grandma two more times.
Once in July for her 66th Birthday, and once in September about one month before she went into the hospital. My grandma was a recovering alcoholic, and as long as I knew her, she did not have a single drink, that night in September when we went to dinner, she ordered a glass of wine. My parents’ faces were just pure and utter shock.
I will never ever forget the looks that my parents exchanged, because they did not know what to do, or how to respond. I just wish I could know what was going through her head during that summer, I wish I could understand.
It was not until November 24, 2008, (my thirteenth birthday) that we found out that my grandma had lung cancer.
At the time, I was in 7th grade, I was on the volleyball team, and I had just gotten a lead role in a winter play, “The Christmas Solo.” I was on top of the world, and nothing could bring me down.
When my grandma was speaking coherent sentences, which was only about three times, I would talk to her at night after practice. I was mad at her, but I still loved her.
She always wanted me to play her a song on the piano, but I wasn’t practicing very often so I always refused.
Finally one day, I gave in and I played her “Sonata in F Major by: Handel” it was a little rusty, but my dad said it was the first time she smiled since she was in the hospital.
Just recently I was able to start playing the piano again. I was really talented, and can still play pretty well, but I do not think I will ever be where I was.
I love playing, and I like to tell people that she gave me the gift of music.
On Thanksgiving, my grandma received her first chemo treatment; my dad said he had not seen her look that good and healthy in a long time. That was the last time she looked healthy.
Her health really started to decline the Monday after Thanksgiving.
After that, my mom began visiting my grandma with my dad, as did many of her other relatives. My grandma was not in a good mental state, when my parents would visit she would tell my mom that she saw this person or that person, that would frighten my mother because these people had all been dead for quite some time.
Things continued to get worse and worse, the next weekend my parents had to rush to the hospital because something went wrong yet again. They had to put her on life support, and she was unable to breathe on her own.
At first, I was not visiting my grandma because of the anger that I felt, but when she started to get so bad, where I knew it was going to be my last chance, I wanted to go.
My parents had decided that it would not be a good idea for me to come, because they thought the experience would traumatize me, and decided that they would rather me remember her for what she used to be, not the stranger that they saw dying in a hospital bed with tubes and wires attached to her.
I am still upset about some of the things that happened when she got sick, but I have moved on. I will never be able to forgive myself for not even fighting with my parents about going to visit her. I was young, and still was overcome with anger.
The following week, my parents received a call on Sunday December 14, 2008, to come to the hospital immediately. They did, I immediately started crying. She died that night.
They told me not to cry, and to put on a brave face during the closing night of “The Christmas Solo.” I did just that, and that performance was for her, she died at 5 o’clock p.m. right after the show had ended. My parents never got to see the show, because they were at the hospital all three nights we did it.
I have such great memories of being in “The Christmas Solo” but I never bring them up because it makes my dad sad, and I hate seeing him sad.
We had her wake that Wednesday, and by that time I was all cried out. Her ex-husband came, and he tried to give me my birthday present. I will never get over the disrespect he showed to the mother of his only child.