Two of my friends' grandparents passed away recently. Rose and Che were both close to their grandparents. Both friends felt that even in their last minutes with them, their grandparents seemed to be still teaching them about life, and about, what else? about the art and science of medicine.

Although I've known my lola Edeng since I was little-- having spent almost all summers with them, and having visits from them when we lived islands away from our relatives, I never really felt very close to Lola. She was giving. She never would stop at offering you food even if you'd have had enough, and to refuse would seem like offending her, for example. But she was strict with a sharp tongue. And very makulit. Maybe it's just the way we are with families. We'll be just around, but not really have that very intimate, personal connection.

My Lola just turned 84 years old 3 weeks ago. Although not very active, I'd say, she's still strong. She can still move about. She even went gardening days ago, the day she developed a fever and had a bad asthma attack, which probably was due to pneumonia. She had difficulty of breathing and was brought to the hospital. She was moved to the Medical ICU yesterday. It was my first visit and I stayed over night. At 3:30 in the morning. She had an arrest. She was revived after about 30 minutes of resuscitation. My aunt was already calling my other relatives crying, and saying that lola's gone. She wasn't, not physically. She fell into comatose. GCS 6.

She's still being kept "alive" by the medications and the mechanical ventilator. I still don't know of my aunts', uncles' & mom's plans. They did signed the waiver for "DO NOT RESUSCITATE". It was time to let go. My Lola's old, she had lived her life, and her Maker, and husband are waiting.

My only thoughts were, in my lola's last conscious moments I was there fanning her, nebulizing her, making her nasal CPAP comfortable for her, guarding her. Those were the least I can do. It's not much. A woman who can be so stubborn, it was touching to see her obey my requests to keep still and have patience whenever she'd try to take off the CPAP, her dress and whatever it is that's making her uncomfortable. She was like a little child. I am one of the doctors in the family. Even if a new one, I felt that I should have given more. But those were the only things I can give her, be there. Even then, she gave me something more at her last moments of being "alive". Although I was not close to her the way my friends were close to their grandparents, she gave me a thing, or two, to learn about medicine-- and I felt honored.