Ninety-one year old "Marian" suffers from lymphoma. She has been widowed for over thirty years which has resulted in her having a very independent personality. Marian lives in an assisted living environment as she needs help with all of her needs. An attendant stops by every two hours to check in on her.
Marian spends her days sitting in her recliner in her room, except for the times when an attendant wheels her down to the dining room for meals. She says she turns the television on in the afternoons as there is nothing worth watching in the mornings.
Marian's daughter, grandchildren and two great-grandsons live nearby and are very involved, supportive and visit often. Marian lights up when talking about her two grandsons. Every Wednesday night is "No Cook Night" and the family all eat out in a local restaurant. Marian looks forward to that weekly family ritual.
Marian has been extremely active all of her life. Exercise and keeping fit are very important to her. She struggles with her daily limitations. She is grieving the loss of her independence.
When I visited Marian yesterday, she excitedly told me, "I made a decision today!" She told me how, for the first time, she went to an exercise class that morning. She said she could only do sitting exercises, but was happy that she had attended. When the aide was wheeling her out of the room after class, she was stopped at the door. Marian was laughing when she shared how they wouldn't let her leave as there was an art class starting. She ended up painting this wonderful Easter decoration that she will give to her grandsons. One could see how proud she was.
Marian wants to do more activities that are offered at the facility, but her body is just wearing out. She has such a young spirit and gets so frustrated by not being able to do want she wants when she wants.
One one hand, she will share that she is ready for it all to be over, but then she talks about her two great-grandsons and says she needs a little more time. Marian has such spunk and spirit. She shares such wonderful stories about her life and gets me laughing throughout each visit. She is an inspiration to us all.
NOT YET
After nine decades of living,
her body is starting to wear out.
She had always been so active.
She's not yet ready to give up.
She can no longer walk.
Her one arm is frozen in place.
She needs help throughout her day,
but she's not yet ready to stop.
She used to teach yoga classes.
She worked out every day.
Now she's tired of sitting in her recliner
waiting for the aide to come by to help.
She just started the exercise class.
She had fun with arts and crafts.
She wants to do more of the activities.
She wants to do more than just sit.
She says there are a lot of old people here
even though she's older than most.
"They go to bed way to early".
She still has more hours left in her day.
She would like it to be over soon.
She doesn't like living this way.
But then she thinks of her two grandsons,
"I need just a little more time."
She's just not ready.
Not quite yet.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
THE LAST
Anne, one of our hospice nurses, died suddenly yesterday. Anne suffered from fibromyalgia; a syndrome where people experience chronic, body-wide muscle and joint pain. Anne had flare-ups over the years with her disease. She had just recently returned to work after being off for a while due to increasing pain. Due to her pain, she could no longer do home visits, but helped out in the office.
Four days ago, when I saw Anne for the first time in a while, we stopped and talked. She spoke of the frustrations of her disease and the pain she endured. She was unable to live her life the way she had hoped because of her disease.
She spoke about the difficulty of living with so many limitations due to the pain she was experiencing. She did not want to live the way she was living.
Her sudden death shocked the hospice office. Her disease was chronic, not terminal. It makes one stop and become aware of how precious life is and how, in a blink of an eye, it can all be taken away.
The following poem is about my last conversation with Anne. At the time, I did not know how profound that discussion would be.
THE LAST
We talked just the other day.
I didn't know it would be the last.
We spoke of life and expectations.
How best to handle the cards we are dealt.
She talked about her illness.
How she somehow had no control.
The limitations; the frustrations.
The chronic pain which slowed her down.
She wanted to live her life.
She wanted to do her work.
She struggled with unanswered questions,
while her faith remained steadfast and strong.
I listened and offered support.
There wasn't much else I could do.
She said she never wanted to live this way.
"If it is so, then I am ready to go."
I shared my thoughts on life's mysteries,
hoping she knew she was never alone.
We gave each other a goodbye hug.
I never thought it would be the last.
Four days ago, when I saw Anne for the first time in a while, we stopped and talked. She spoke of the frustrations of her disease and the pain she endured. She was unable to live her life the way she had hoped because of her disease.
She spoke about the difficulty of living with so many limitations due to the pain she was experiencing. She did not want to live the way she was living.
Her sudden death shocked the hospice office. Her disease was chronic, not terminal. It makes one stop and become aware of how precious life is and how, in a blink of an eye, it can all be taken away.
The following poem is about my last conversation with Anne. At the time, I did not know how profound that discussion would be.
THE LAST
We talked just the other day.
I didn't know it would be the last.
We spoke of life and expectations.
How best to handle the cards we are dealt.
She talked about her illness.
How she somehow had no control.
The limitations; the frustrations.
The chronic pain which slowed her down.
She wanted to live her life.
She wanted to do her work.
She struggled with unanswered questions,
while her faith remained steadfast and strong.
I listened and offered support.
There wasn't much else I could do.
She said she never wanted to live this way.
"If it is so, then I am ready to go."
I shared my thoughts on life's mysteries,
hoping she knew she was never alone.
We gave each other a goodbye hug.
I never thought it would be the last.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
THE MENTOR
Seventy-three year old "Jack" suffers from esophageal cancer. He has a feeding tube for nourishment as he is unable to swallow. He has swollen legs which give him intense pain as well as making it difficult for him to walk any distance.
Jack has been divorced for many years. He has three adult children who live in the area, although he has not been in contact with them for years. One of his daughters occasionally writes him a letter. He never responds back.
Jack has recently moved in with his friends, "Ted" and "Holly". The three of them all met years ago in an Alcoholic Anonymous meeting. All have been sober for more than twenty years. Ted and Holly live in a small, one bedroom mobile home. Jack sleeps in a hospital bed in the living room.
Jack counts his blessings each day, especially the friendship he has in Ted and Holly. Holly has experience being an attendant and is comfortable caring for Jack. The three of them are very close.
For the past twenty years, Jack has been a mentor to other alcoholics teaching them how to remain sober. He has touched many people with his passion for sobriety. When I visited Jack last week, he could only focus on the regrets in his life. He spoke of how he wished had had done so many things differently. He was being pretty hard on himself.
I told him that what I saw in him was his huge heart and his passion for helping others. I shared with him that I believed he had to have the experiences he had in order to be able to effectively help so many others.
When I went out to visit today, it appears that Jack is in his dying process. He is unresponsive and has stopped eating. Holly told me that a few days ago, Jack said he wanted to talk with her. He spent three hours with Holly. Holly defines it as a "soul-searching" conversation. She said that she saw it as a cleansing of his soul. She thanked me for initiating the conversation with Jack last week. She said it opened the door for the two of them to have that wonderful discussion. She feels Jack is now at peace and able to let go. I only hope that he now is aware of what a positive impact he made to others during his life.
THE MENTOR
He abused alcohol in his younger days,
though has been sober for years.
He's no longer in touch with his family.
All by his choosing, not theirs.
Now at the end of his life,
he can only focus on regrets.
He wishes he had made better choices.
He's sorry for all the bridges he's burned.
He doesn't see the good he has done,
since sobriety and he became one.
Twenty years of mentoring others.
Showing them how to stay on track.
I encouraged him to cherish his past.
It's what led him to mentor so well.
Knowing the pain and the sorrow
gave him the tools he uses each day.
He was able to process these feelings.
He was able to mourn his past.
Reaching out to those who love him
gave him the courage to peacefully let go.
Jack has been divorced for many years. He has three adult children who live in the area, although he has not been in contact with them for years. One of his daughters occasionally writes him a letter. He never responds back.
Jack has recently moved in with his friends, "Ted" and "Holly". The three of them all met years ago in an Alcoholic Anonymous meeting. All have been sober for more than twenty years. Ted and Holly live in a small, one bedroom mobile home. Jack sleeps in a hospital bed in the living room.
Jack counts his blessings each day, especially the friendship he has in Ted and Holly. Holly has experience being an attendant and is comfortable caring for Jack. The three of them are very close.
For the past twenty years, Jack has been a mentor to other alcoholics teaching them how to remain sober. He has touched many people with his passion for sobriety. When I visited Jack last week, he could only focus on the regrets in his life. He spoke of how he wished had had done so many things differently. He was being pretty hard on himself.
I told him that what I saw in him was his huge heart and his passion for helping others. I shared with him that I believed he had to have the experiences he had in order to be able to effectively help so many others.
When I went out to visit today, it appears that Jack is in his dying process. He is unresponsive and has stopped eating. Holly told me that a few days ago, Jack said he wanted to talk with her. He spent three hours with Holly. Holly defines it as a "soul-searching" conversation. She said that she saw it as a cleansing of his soul. She thanked me for initiating the conversation with Jack last week. She said it opened the door for the two of them to have that wonderful discussion. She feels Jack is now at peace and able to let go. I only hope that he now is aware of what a positive impact he made to others during his life.
THE MENTOR
He abused alcohol in his younger days,
though has been sober for years.
He's no longer in touch with his family.
All by his choosing, not theirs.
Now at the end of his life,
he can only focus on regrets.
He wishes he had made better choices.
He's sorry for all the bridges he's burned.
He doesn't see the good he has done,
since sobriety and he became one.
Twenty years of mentoring others.
Showing them how to stay on track.
I encouraged him to cherish his past.
It's what led him to mentor so well.
Knowing the pain and the sorrow
gave him the tools he uses each day.
He was able to process these feelings.
He was able to mourn his past.
Reaching out to those who love him
gave him the courage to peacefully let go.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
GRATITUDE
Eighty-six year old "Jim" suffers from prostate cancer that has spread throughout his body. Jim has lost over forty pounds as he has little appetite. He gets tired easily and is sleeping a lot more. Through all of this, he continues to smile and have a positive attitude about his life.
Jim lives with his wife, "Mary". They have been married over sixty-four years. They have four adult children who are devoted to their parents. The family is very close and see each other often.
Jim has accepted his dying without any fears, although does not want to die in pain. I spoke with him about hospices' focus on comfort care. I added that our nurses work so well with the physicians doing whatever is needed so that patients do not have pain or discomfort. Hospice is all about quality of life and comfort care.
In addition to having cancer, Jim suffers from macular degeneration; an eye disease which impacts his vision. Jim can see enough to walk around his home, but not much more. He says the biggest loss is not being able to read or write. He also misses doing "handy-man" chores around the home. It frustrates him that he cannot see well enough to even use a screwdriver.
Their home is very clean and orderly in a modest way. One can see Jim and Mary's attention to detail. One of Jim's favorite hobbies was photography. Displayed around his home are amazing photos he took during their travels. Jim used to enjoy his dark room where he developed his own prints. Jim spoke of all the losses he has had because of his vision.
Jim and Mary have a strong Christian faith. They are very involved in their church community which gives them tremendous support. Jim has had the opportunity to speak about his dying with his church men's group. The following poem was triggered from that conversation. Jim is an amazing teacher to us all.
GRATITUDE
He has an upbeat personality.
He sees life in a positive way.
Not much can get him down.
Even the cancer that is forever there.
The cancer has slowed him down some.
He sleeps more as he is getting weaker.
He is not eating much these days
as his appetite is all but gone.
He accepts all of this with grace
which is something to admire.
He is turning to his faith though,
to overcome his biggest struggle.
His eyes have deceived him.
He can no longer see.
He misses reading and writing,
but most of all his hobby of taking photos.
Many beautifully displayed around his home.
His strong faith continues to sustain him
while he grieves the loss of his sight.
When negative feelings filter in,
he focuses on his blessings.
Changing his mindset from an attitude
to gratitude.
Jim lives with his wife, "Mary". They have been married over sixty-four years. They have four adult children who are devoted to their parents. The family is very close and see each other often.
Jim has accepted his dying without any fears, although does not want to die in pain. I spoke with him about hospices' focus on comfort care. I added that our nurses work so well with the physicians doing whatever is needed so that patients do not have pain or discomfort. Hospice is all about quality of life and comfort care.
In addition to having cancer, Jim suffers from macular degeneration; an eye disease which impacts his vision. Jim can see enough to walk around his home, but not much more. He says the biggest loss is not being able to read or write. He also misses doing "handy-man" chores around the home. It frustrates him that he cannot see well enough to even use a screwdriver.
Their home is very clean and orderly in a modest way. One can see Jim and Mary's attention to detail. One of Jim's favorite hobbies was photography. Displayed around his home are amazing photos he took during their travels. Jim used to enjoy his dark room where he developed his own prints. Jim spoke of all the losses he has had because of his vision.
Jim and Mary have a strong Christian faith. They are very involved in their church community which gives them tremendous support. Jim has had the opportunity to speak about his dying with his church men's group. The following poem was triggered from that conversation. Jim is an amazing teacher to us all.
GRATITUDE
He has an upbeat personality.
He sees life in a positive way.
Not much can get him down.
Even the cancer that is forever there.
The cancer has slowed him down some.
He sleeps more as he is getting weaker.
He is not eating much these days
as his appetite is all but gone.
He accepts all of this with grace
which is something to admire.
He is turning to his faith though,
to overcome his biggest struggle.
His eyes have deceived him.
He can no longer see.
He misses reading and writing,
but most of all his hobby of taking photos.
Many beautifully displayed around his home.
His strong faith continues to sustain him
while he grieves the loss of his sight.
When negative feelings filter in,
he focuses on his blessings.
Changing his mindset from an attitude
to gratitude.
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