My brother has been in hospice since August. The last few months have been very tough for my whole family: we're still grieving for mom while watching Job slip away, and being with him has been like dancing over eggshells.
He took a turn for the worse this week. He just started sleeping more and more, a sign the oncologist told us to watch for before he died. He's losing control of his arms and hands; he tries to take a drink and spills water everywhere. He fights with us for control, demanding that we let him do things that he is incapable of. I've known many people who've died, but no one has fought death with such a bitter intensity.
He smells like death.
I feel hollow.
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