This is a depressing post about my nephew who died, so that's my warning.
My nephew passed away on October 10, 2023. He was 57 years old. In all truthfulness, he did it to himself, though it took a year.
My sister and brother-in-law died in 2019, leaving Kenny alone after losing his brother in 2005. (There are two half-brothers living in other states.) He wasn't mentally prepared to take care of himself. People took advantage of him. When my other sister and niece moved to North Carolina later that year, he went with them, but Kenny never got over the loss of his parents. When Covid hit, and he lost his part-time job, he sunk deeper into depression. Kenny stopped helping around the house. He stopped making his car payments, so it got repossessed. He spent most of his money on lottery tickets and stayed in his room. He also stopped seeing his psychiatrist and taking his bipolar meds.
In October 2022, Kenny tripped over clothes on the floor of his room and broke his femur. My sister and niece heard him yell from the pain, and my niece dashed in. The paramedics carried him out on a stretcher. Kenny was a big man, around 300 pounds. The surgeon repaired his leg in the hospital, but he faced physical therapy to walk again. Thus began the year of decline.
Kenny never walked again. He was transferred to a nursing home for physical therapy. Whenever the therapists or nurses tried to help him, he said it hurt and refused to cooperate. Weeks went by, then months. When family visited, Kenny said he would start therapy the next day, but he didn't. He complained about the food and refused to eat what the nursing home served. If he could get cookies, chips, or soda, that's what he had. Eventually, most food made him throw up.
Kenny lost about 100 pounds over the year. He never walked to the bathroom, always content to wear diapers. He went through phones like candy. He lost his glasses and dentures, or maybe he threw them away.
Repeatedly, Kenny told us he wanted to be with his mom, dad, and brother. We knew he was getting his wish.
The trips to the hospital became more frequent. When someone spends their life in bed or a chair, never moving, never exercising, and not eating, things quit working properly. That is what happened to Kenny. He was moved to a different nursing home, a better one, according to my sister, but he wasn't there long. The next hospital stay was the last one.
When one of Kenny's lungs collapsed, and the other one was too full of phlegm to breathe, he got scared. He allowed the doctors to insert a breathing tube. They said he also gave them permission for a feeding tube. I don't know; I wasn't there, and Kenny had been against the feeding tube before then. Later that night, after a procedure to insert a PICC line, he took a turn for the worse.
One of my nieces was with Kenny when he passed and had his other brothers on the phone. I'm glad he wasn't alone.
Some in my family choose not to believe that Kenny wanted this. They base their argument on his decisions when he couldn't breathe. I don't see it this way. Kenny stated his desire many times. His method was unconventional; maybe it was the only way he knew, but he accomplished his goal.