56: Final Outcome for FTD Patient

Frank lingered for about a year at South Mountain. Once, when we visited I thought he may have reached out for Matt, but it was hard to tell if there was any intention to the slight movement. The last time Matt and I visited him, we stood in his room awkwardly, wondering what to do or say until Matt finally said, "I'm going to go speak to the nurse."
I replied, "Go ahead, I'll stay here and keep Frank company."
I began chatting away about family members, dropping names that would be familiar to Frank and filling him in on the latest accomplishments of the children. There was no apparent reaction, just vacant eyes staring into space, but I continued on the chance that he could hear my voice. Soon, I had a visitor. One of the other residents, a very tall middle-aged man, came into the room. I said hello, but he didn't say anything, he just stood behind me in the corner of the room and listened too. I was a little disconcerted at the expression on his face, which seemed slightly cross, but I tried to include him, even though he didn't know who I was talking about. A few minutes later a woman, about sixty years-old peered into the room at us. She looked angry and impatient at me, like she was wondering when I was going to go home and leave them alone. She continued to pace outside the room in the hallway, but checked in on us from time to time. If she had a watch, I think she would have been checking it. Next, a handsome, friendly older gentleman came in smiling. He walked right up and stood beside me, shoulder to shoulder at Frank's bedside. I looked at him and said "Hello, do you know Frank?  I'm his sister-in-law" The man smiled back at me and mumbled something I didn't understand. He looked at Frank and made a sad expression and mumbled something unintelligible, but with an appropriate somber tone for the condition that Frank was in; extremely thin with contorted limbs. I continued with my long-winded speech about our current events as the man stood next to me, arms folded, nodding his head and smiling, looking from me to Frank, like he understood what I was saying, but I don't think he did at all.  All this time, the tall gentleman stood behind us in the corner, maybe just curious at this new stranger, but not able or willing to participate, and the impatient woman lingering a few seconds at a time in the doorway.

When Matt finally returned from speaking with the nurse, he found the crowd I had congregated in Frank's room and had to squeeze past the angry woman in the doorway. He looked at me quizzically, like "What in the world is going on here?" He said, "Boy, I just left you alone for a minute!"  Truthfully, I was glad he was back because I was a little nervous about the tall man. I introduced Matt to my new friend beside me. "This is my husband, Matt. He's Frank's brother." He smiled at nodded at Matt. We said our goodbyes to everyone, but I almost felt bad leaving them. They seemed so eager to have someone new visit. I knew this would be my last visit.  Frank was so gaunt and pale, it was clear he wouldn't be with us much longer. I kept it to myself though, I knew Matt wouldn't want to hear my dire prediction.

Outside, it was a perfect, beautiful sunny October day. The leaves were beginning to change colors to vibrant oranges and yellows. Matt and I took the self-guided driving tour around the Gettysburg landmarks and took a walk through the path on the battlefield, eventually making our way to Little Round Top where the view is spectacular. Especially on this brilliant clear day, where the leaves are in a colorful blaze of glory just before they burn out and fall.

Frank has fought his battles too.  His divorce, the struggle to maintain a relationship with the children he cherished who turned their backs on him, and the anguish over losing them, his legal issues, and his battle for his health for seven years, have all been formidable foes. He finally surrendered in December, just before Christmas. A nurse called and said Frank's breathing was labored and she didn't think he would make it through the night. I had noticed a rumbling in his chest when I was there in October and I knew it wasn't a good sign. He wouldn't be strong enough to clear any fluid in his lungs and it would eventually turn into pneumonia. Only an hour later they called to say that Frank had passed. He was 53 years old.  Matt and his brother had just visited a final time just a week before, but still he was surprised to hear. Matt, as always, still expecting the best case scenario will be the outcome.