I knew one day I would write a poem titled, “Silent Tears.” I knew it would be a special time about special people. This is that poem.
39 year old “Jennie” suffered from brain cancer. She was diagnosed eight months ago. These past eight months have been hard on the family. Jennie was working full time while her husband of fifteen years, “Mark” stayed home to care for their eleven year old son, “Jimmy”.
I met Jennie and her family three months ago when she came onto hospice. One cannot help but notice the love this family had for each other. Mark would look at Jennie with so much love in his eyes. Both Mark and Jennie’s first concern was their son. They wanted to make sure Jimmy got the support he needed.
Jennie was bed bound and needed help with all of her needs. Mark was a wonderful caregiver and gave Jennie the emotional and physical support she needed. Jennie was declining with increasing needs and struggling with word finding.
Mark knew she was declining, but would remain stoic, except for the time when I was meeting with Jimmy. Mark would come out to the living room where Jimmy and I were talking, and sit with us for a while. It was then that Mark would show silent tears. He wanted his son to know that it was okay for a man to cry. When Jimmy and my discussions were on his mother’s illness, he too, would shed silent tears, wiping them with his tee shirt.
Five days before she died, Jennie was admitted to the hospital for uncontrollable seizures. Mark asked me to come to the hospital to meet with Jimmy. Mark, Jimmy and I met in the hospital chapel. We moved our chairs to sit knee to knee. Jimmy knew his mother was dying and didn’t say much, but these silent tears were streaming down his face.
I had planned on returning to the hospital the next day, but Mark called and asked if I could meet Jimmy at their home. He said things were getting close and he felt it was best if Jimmy wasn’t there to witness his mother’s dying. Jimmy was home with his grandmother and cousin.
Mark knew that I planned on arriving at the house at four that afternoon. Somehow the timing of Jennie’s death was orchestrated by her as her son had always been she and Mark’s primary focus. I believe Jennie wanted to make sure her son had support.
SILENT TEARS
My heart is aching.
There’s heaviness within.
Telling an eleven year old boy
his mother has just died.
I have been meeting with him for weeks;
sometimes with sadness and silent tears.
Offering support and guidance.
Letting him know he was never alone.
She took a dramatic turn last weekend.
Seizures out of control.
Calling 911 to get some quick help
as no longer able to keep her at home.
I visited them all in the hospital yesterday.
Family holding vigil in her room.
Holding her hand, loving her.
Doing what they needed to do.
We went off and talked together.
Sitting knee to knee.
Silent tears flowing down
moistening a little boys sad face.
His father asked me to come again.
To meet his son in their home.
Forty minutes into the visit, we heard.
She died the exact moment
I walked through her front door.
Silent tears.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Saturday, April 21, 2012
PAJAMAS
Thirty-two year old “Doug” suffers from brain cancer. He was diagnosed eight years ago and has outlived his doctor’s prediction by many years. Doug lives with his wife of five months, “Ellen”. The couple moved locally to be near Doug’s parents in order to get the support they knew they would be needing.
Doug was doing quite well until recently when he started to slowly decline. He has become weaker and starting to need more and more help. Two weeks ago, he reluctantly agreed to a wheelchair. Ultimately he was able to get out more and, in turn, has grown to appreciate the mobility the wheelchair gives him.
As of two days ago, Doug can no longer sit in his wheelchair. He is bed bound and dependent with all of his needs. Ellen, along with Doug’s mother, “Julie”, are able to manage his care, although it takes two people to move him.
The nurse and I went out to open Doug to hospice today. The family started sharing the tremendous support they all receive from their local Baptist church. Doug and Ellen have moved many times and, with each move, it is always a priority to find their local Baptist Church.
During the visit, Julie told us the story about the pajamas and the impact on, not just their local church, but all of the churches that Doug and Julie had attended over the years. The tremendous support keeps everyone’s spirits up. They know it is a big part in helping them get though each day and the challenging times ahead.
PAJAMAS
They were telling me about their church.
How they receive tremendous support.
It didn’t matter each time they moved.
The new church would always welcome them in.
Their church has been there throughout his illness.
It gives them all great strength.
Visits, prayer chains, phone calls.
It helps them all to continue on.
They told us about his last time in church.
He was weak, but determined to go.
It was too much effort to get fully dressed,
so he wore pajama bottoms while praising his Lord.
The other parishioners admired his faith.
They wanted to give something back.
So a few weeks later a tradition was born.
Not just the local church, but others around.
They all wore pajamas to Sunday worship.
Not only the parishioners, but the ministers too.
It was out of respect and love not just for him,
but for all of those shut-ins we sometimes forget.
Now each year there will be Pajama Sunday.
Honoring those in sickness and pain.
Worshipping God in night clothes and slippers.
All in the name of love and strong faith.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
ASHES ON THE SHELF
Seventy-one year old “Bill” suffers from gall bladder cancer. He lives with “Jackie”, his wife of forty-five years. Bill came onto hospice when he started to decline and could no longer be left alone. His daughter, “Linda”, spends the days with her dad, while Jackie works. Bill has two other sons who live nearby. His sons are available evenings and weekends to help out. It is a very close, devoted, loving family.
The family laugh a lot; often using sarcasm. The sarcasm is never hurtful and quite often it is directed at themselves. On the other hand, the family easily verbalizes their pain and grieve openly. Bill is open about his dying as well, although prefers to focus on the positives in his life. He loves to paint and, scattered throughout the home, are Bill’s amazing paintings. He has a studio in the home which he proudly shows off to visitors. He has focused on one particular painting that he was working on and calls it, “My final painting.” He says it will be the last painting he will do. He shares this in a very calm, relaxed manner.
Bill took a dramatic turn five days ago. Where he had been walking and up and around, he is now unresponsive. His death is imminent. I made a visit to the his home today. His family were all sitting in the living room and they started to tell “Bill” stories. Before too long, we started to laugh at some of his antics.
Jackie was telling me that she had made funeral plans and that Bill will be cremated. It was then she shared one of his favorite expressions.
ASHES ON THE SHELF
He lay in the other room unresponsive.
They started to talk about his life.
They shared the funny stories;
they shared the happy times.
He and his family laugh a lot.
They all use sarcasm to ease the pain.
It takes the edge off their grief.
He would want them to handle his dying this way.
It won’t be much longer now.
The family is holding vigil.
They have given him permission to go.
They know he has suffered enough.
He had a favorite phrase
when something was never to be.
He said if it ever did happen, it would be
“Long after my ashes are on the shelf”.
They plan to have him cremated.
They plan to bring him back home.
They’ll honor him and follow his wish,
by then placing his ashes on the shelf.
The family laugh a lot; often using sarcasm. The sarcasm is never hurtful and quite often it is directed at themselves. On the other hand, the family easily verbalizes their pain and grieve openly. Bill is open about his dying as well, although prefers to focus on the positives in his life. He loves to paint and, scattered throughout the home, are Bill’s amazing paintings. He has a studio in the home which he proudly shows off to visitors. He has focused on one particular painting that he was working on and calls it, “My final painting.” He says it will be the last painting he will do. He shares this in a very calm, relaxed manner.
Bill took a dramatic turn five days ago. Where he had been walking and up and around, he is now unresponsive. His death is imminent. I made a visit to the his home today. His family were all sitting in the living room and they started to tell “Bill” stories. Before too long, we started to laugh at some of his antics.
Jackie was telling me that she had made funeral plans and that Bill will be cremated. It was then she shared one of his favorite expressions.
ASHES ON THE SHELF
He lay in the other room unresponsive.
They started to talk about his life.
They shared the funny stories;
they shared the happy times.
He and his family laugh a lot.
They all use sarcasm to ease the pain.
It takes the edge off their grief.
He would want them to handle his dying this way.
It won’t be much longer now.
The family is holding vigil.
They have given him permission to go.
They know he has suffered enough.
He had a favorite phrase
when something was never to be.
He said if it ever did happen, it would be
“Long after my ashes are on the shelf”.
They plan to have him cremated.
They plan to bring him back home.
They’ll honor him and follow his wish,
by then placing his ashes on the shelf.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
GRIEF
Fifty-four year old “Ken” suffered from prostate cancer that had spread to his bones. Four years ago, after a divorce, he moved in with his father, “Hank”. It was a win-win living arrangement for both of them as Hank was getting elderly and used a cane to get around. They lived on five acres and Ken was able to take care of the outside property for his dad, while Hank took care of the inside of the house.
Ken was diagnosed with cancer one year ago. He went through treatment, but his cancer continued to grow and spread. It was a continuous decline to where he became bed bound and needed help with all of his needs. Ken’s parents were divorced years ago, but remained friends. His mother, “Winifred” came over daily to help Hank with Ken’s care. In addition, Ken’s sister, “Cindy” was very supportive and involved.
Ken was admitted to hospice one week before he died. He was confused, extremely weak and completely dependent upon others for all of his needs. Cindy and Winifred both moved in to be available full time to help Hank with Ken’s care.
Hank was very open about his feelings of losing his son. He was sad, but had a practical side to him. He knew Ken had no quality of life and was suffering. In addition, the family had many friends and other extended family who were so supportive which helped tremendously.
As part of my role as a hospice social worker, I follow up with two bereavement calls to the family. The first call is when the patient first dies. I try to wait a day or two as so often families are busy calling other family members and friends to get the support they need.
The second call is four to six weeks later to check in and see how the family is doing. Quite often folks struggle at this time as they are trying to get back to their “normal” lives. They have been kept busy with arrangements and tasks which often can delay the grieving process.
I spoke with Cindy today and it was then when she told me how her father was doing and how he describes his feelings of grief and relief that his son is no longer suffering. It is the perfect word that best describes many bereaved emotions. I vote to add it to our English language.
GRIEF
I called them up today;
to check in and to say hello.
It’s been a month since he’s been gone.
I hoped they were doing okay.
She said they all were doing just fine.
They are trying to get on with their lives.
She admitted to having moments of sadness,
but knows that will ease up in time.
None of them have any regrets
as they were constantly there.
Exhausted and weary but never giving up
through sleepless nights and difficult days.
His father stated it so perfectly,
as he was sick for way to long.
“Yes I am sad and have my moments
but mostly I feel grelief.”
Ken was diagnosed with cancer one year ago. He went through treatment, but his cancer continued to grow and spread. It was a continuous decline to where he became bed bound and needed help with all of his needs. Ken’s parents were divorced years ago, but remained friends. His mother, “Winifred” came over daily to help Hank with Ken’s care. In addition, Ken’s sister, “Cindy” was very supportive and involved.
Ken was admitted to hospice one week before he died. He was confused, extremely weak and completely dependent upon others for all of his needs. Cindy and Winifred both moved in to be available full time to help Hank with Ken’s care.
Hank was very open about his feelings of losing his son. He was sad, but had a practical side to him. He knew Ken had no quality of life and was suffering. In addition, the family had many friends and other extended family who were so supportive which helped tremendously.
As part of my role as a hospice social worker, I follow up with two bereavement calls to the family. The first call is when the patient first dies. I try to wait a day or two as so often families are busy calling other family members and friends to get the support they need.
The second call is four to six weeks later to check in and see how the family is doing. Quite often folks struggle at this time as they are trying to get back to their “normal” lives. They have been kept busy with arrangements and tasks which often can delay the grieving process.
I spoke with Cindy today and it was then when she told me how her father was doing and how he describes his feelings of grief and relief that his son is no longer suffering. It is the perfect word that best describes many bereaved emotions. I vote to add it to our English language.
GRIEF
I called them up today;
to check in and to say hello.
It’s been a month since he’s been gone.
I hoped they were doing okay.
She said they all were doing just fine.
They are trying to get on with their lives.
She admitted to having moments of sadness,
but knows that will ease up in time.
None of them have any regrets
as they were constantly there.
Exhausted and weary but never giving up
through sleepless nights and difficult days.
His father stated it so perfectly,
as he was sick for way to long.
“Yes I am sad and have my moments
but mostly I feel grelief.”
Monday, April 2, 2012
AFTERLIFE
Sixty-five year old “Cathy” suffers from leukemia. She was diagnosed with ovarian cancer seven years ago and had been in remission. She, and her husband of 45 years, “Jack” thought she had her cancer beat, until two months ago when she was newly diagnosed with leukemia. The doctors told Cathy and Jack to go home and put her affairs in order. There was no more treatment available except for blood transfusions which would only slow down the progression of her disease.
It was then that Cathy was referred to hospice. I have made multiple visits to the home where our discussions always end up being very lively. Jack is very open with his emotions and feelings, while Cathy is more somber about things.
Jack worries so much about Cathy and how she is coping. Cathy’s only concern is what the dying process will be like. I shared what likely will happen and what to expect. I reinforced that hospice is all about comfort care and everything that can be done will be done so that she suffers no pain or distress.
Jack believes in God and the afterlife and worries that Cathy might have fears about dying as she has no belief at all. During my visit today, the three of us had a very insightful discussion about the afterlife. Cathy said she was open to whatever happens, even if there is nothing at all. She is at peace about things.
It gave Jack some comfort to know that Cathy is at peace. Cathy wasn’t available during my entire visit as the hospice home health aide came to give her a bath. That time gave Jack the opportunity to open up about his own emotions. He started talking about his plans after Cathy dies. He said the two of them have come to the reality of the situation once Cathy decided to stop having blood transfusions about a week ago.
Jack talked about returning to his volunteer work at the jail and a local food bank. With his volunteer work and the amazing support he has from his family, I know he will be okay, no matter where Cathy has gone.
AFTERLIFE
She was brought up Catholic.
They taught her about Christianity and God.
She learned all about the afterlife.
She learned all about Heaven and Hell.
Along the way, she stopped believing.
She started to question those principles.
Was there really an afterlife?
Is there really a loving God?
Now that she is traveling her final road,
these questions have moved to the forefront.
What will her next experience be,
or will there be anything at all?
She isn’t bothered much by all of this.
She’s ready to see what will be next.
She‘ll be fine, even with nothing beyond,
as she’s tired and ready to move on.
Many have strong beliefs about the afterlife.
Many are determined in their view.
But in the end, no matter what any of us believe,
what will be,
will be.
It was then that Cathy was referred to hospice. I have made multiple visits to the home where our discussions always end up being very lively. Jack is very open with his emotions and feelings, while Cathy is more somber about things.
Jack worries so much about Cathy and how she is coping. Cathy’s only concern is what the dying process will be like. I shared what likely will happen and what to expect. I reinforced that hospice is all about comfort care and everything that can be done will be done so that she suffers no pain or distress.
Jack believes in God and the afterlife and worries that Cathy might have fears about dying as she has no belief at all. During my visit today, the three of us had a very insightful discussion about the afterlife. Cathy said she was open to whatever happens, even if there is nothing at all. She is at peace about things.
It gave Jack some comfort to know that Cathy is at peace. Cathy wasn’t available during my entire visit as the hospice home health aide came to give her a bath. That time gave Jack the opportunity to open up about his own emotions. He started talking about his plans after Cathy dies. He said the two of them have come to the reality of the situation once Cathy decided to stop having blood transfusions about a week ago.
Jack talked about returning to his volunteer work at the jail and a local food bank. With his volunteer work and the amazing support he has from his family, I know he will be okay, no matter where Cathy has gone.
AFTERLIFE
She was brought up Catholic.
They taught her about Christianity and God.
She learned all about the afterlife.
She learned all about Heaven and Hell.
Along the way, she stopped believing.
She started to question those principles.
Was there really an afterlife?
Is there really a loving God?
Now that she is traveling her final road,
these questions have moved to the forefront.
What will her next experience be,
or will there be anything at all?
She isn’t bothered much by all of this.
She’s ready to see what will be next.
She‘ll be fine, even with nothing beyond,
as she’s tired and ready to move on.
Many have strong beliefs about the afterlife.
Many are determined in their view.
But in the end, no matter what any of us believe,
what will be,
will be.
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