As a hospice social worker, I meet so many amazing and wonderful people. Every now and then, I connect with someone on a much deeper level. Usually it is someone with whom I can relate to so easily for a multitude of reasons.
After they have died, normally I will be sad for a while, but realize that they are in a better place and are no longer suffering. I then am able to focus on the things I so admired and loved about them. I have been hit doubly hard this week as there are two patients that I have strongly connected with. “Fred” died two days ago and “Rita” has likely only a week or two to live.
Fred was in a slow decline, but then took a sudden turn, and in one day, with his family at his bedside, he was gone. Rita is having weekly changes and declining to where now she is sleeping most of her days and eating very little. I visit Rita weekly and see a dramatic decline with each visit. It hit me today that she likely won’t live for much longer.
For me, Rita’s decline, being so close to Fred’s unexpected death, has hit me doubly hard. I became sad after visiting Rita this morning and I cannot shake the feeling. I realize that my sadness is the grief I feel knowing that Rita’s time and mine is coming to an end. In addition, I know that Fred and my time is now over. What remains is the memories of knowing each of them.
What also is impacting me I know, is that yesterday was the fifteen year anniversary of a dear friend’s death to breast cancer. I have been thinking of my friend, Kate, a lot this past week and hoping that she is aware of how she so strongly impacted my life. I believe the sadness I feel, is the result of these three amazing people that I have been so blessed to have been able to meet and share part of our journeys together.
A LITTLE SAD
I am feeling a little sad tonight.
It has hit me hard somehow.
Usually I can shake it off
and remember them with love.
Some cases can be harder than others.
Some patients touch me deep in my heart.
That vulnerable place of love and pain.
An honor to have had them cross my path.
He died so suddenly.
We were all surprised.
A blessing for him,
but I needed more time.
She’s going quickly.
She doesn’t want to linger.
She’s ready to die,
but I’m finding it hard for her to go.
Two special people who have graced this earth.
Two people who have touched so many souls.
We all are better to have known them,
if only it was just for a short time.
So I guess I’ll be sad for a little while longer.
For a while I will have a heavy heart.
In its time the sadness will go;
replaced by the memory of two special souls.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Saturday, November 17, 2012
HIS OFFICE
Eighty-four year old “Ogden” suffered from lymphoma. He was diagnosed four years ago. Ogden had been doing quite well, although was slowly losing some of his energy. He used to walk a mile each morning to buy the daily newspaper or take care of his half acre property. Activities he no longer has been able to manage.
I first met Ogden about twenty months ago when his wife came onto hospice. Coincidently months before then, I met Ogden’s daughter, “Annie” when she was the primary caretaker for her aunt, her mother’s sister, who was on hospice. A few months after her aunt died, Ogden’s wife, Rita” came onto hospice. Rita suffered from Alzheimer’s Disease. Ogden hired a full time caretaker to attend to his wife’s needs. Annie, again, was the primary contact and support person.
Ogden and Annie loved Rita. Rita was bed bound and so confused, but always had a smile. She didn’t understand what was happening, but was so easy going and receptive to any help that was offered. I would always meet with Ogden and we would talk in his office. A very large desk sat in the middle of the room. His desk chair swiveled conveniently right near his computer. Also his chair was conveniently situated to watch the stock market channel, his favorite station. He was very content and said that he rarely went into any other room of his home.
Rita died ten months ago peacefully in her home. I knew Ogden was heartbroken, but he also understood that Rita was in a better place and no longer suffering. Due to his spiritual beliefs, Ogden believed he and Rita would be together again one day.
Three months ago, Ogden and my life crossed again when he was admitted to hospice. I was happy to see him, but a bit sad as he was so much thinner and weaker than the last time we saw each other. Ogden still had his amazing smile and, again, welcomed the hospice staff so warmly into his home.
With each visit, Ogden and I would meet in his office. He would always sit at his desk and I would sit on the side of his hospital bed a few feet away. Ogden spoke of Rita frequently and their sixty years of marriage. His decline was slow and he knew he would be with her soon. I visited Ogden five days ago and, as usual, he was sitting in his desk chair. When I said goodbye, I had no idea that it would be the last time I would see him.
I heard this morning that Ogden died yesterday with his family at his side. I feel sad, although I know he is now with Rita. I will miss him as he was always a joy to be around. Some folks cross our path for a reason. Ogden will always have a place in my heart.
HIS OFFICE
He was always in his office.
It had everything he needed.
His computer, his bed, his TV.
Everything within arms reach.
He was most comfortable there.
While his wife was sick;
when he too became ill.
It was his sanctuary.
I have known him for almost two years.
I don’t think we talked any other place.
He was always in his office,
welcoming me with his wide grin.
His wife’s been gone almost a year.
He talks about her all of the time.
How much he misses her.
How he knows he’ll be with her soon.
We talked in his office just last week.
He in his desk chair; me nearby.
Talking about his wife and children.
Sharing stories of his life.
Now he is gone.
The end came quite suddenly.
He dying where he was most comfortable.
I know where he chose to be.
His office.
I first met Ogden about twenty months ago when his wife came onto hospice. Coincidently months before then, I met Ogden’s daughter, “Annie” when she was the primary caretaker for her aunt, her mother’s sister, who was on hospice. A few months after her aunt died, Ogden’s wife, Rita” came onto hospice. Rita suffered from Alzheimer’s Disease. Ogden hired a full time caretaker to attend to his wife’s needs. Annie, again, was the primary contact and support person.
Ogden and Annie loved Rita. Rita was bed bound and so confused, but always had a smile. She didn’t understand what was happening, but was so easy going and receptive to any help that was offered. I would always meet with Ogden and we would talk in his office. A very large desk sat in the middle of the room. His desk chair swiveled conveniently right near his computer. Also his chair was conveniently situated to watch the stock market channel, his favorite station. He was very content and said that he rarely went into any other room of his home.
Rita died ten months ago peacefully in her home. I knew Ogden was heartbroken, but he also understood that Rita was in a better place and no longer suffering. Due to his spiritual beliefs, Ogden believed he and Rita would be together again one day.
Three months ago, Ogden and my life crossed again when he was admitted to hospice. I was happy to see him, but a bit sad as he was so much thinner and weaker than the last time we saw each other. Ogden still had his amazing smile and, again, welcomed the hospice staff so warmly into his home.
With each visit, Ogden and I would meet in his office. He would always sit at his desk and I would sit on the side of his hospital bed a few feet away. Ogden spoke of Rita frequently and their sixty years of marriage. His decline was slow and he knew he would be with her soon. I visited Ogden five days ago and, as usual, he was sitting in his desk chair. When I said goodbye, I had no idea that it would be the last time I would see him.
I heard this morning that Ogden died yesterday with his family at his side. I feel sad, although I know he is now with Rita. I will miss him as he was always a joy to be around. Some folks cross our path for a reason. Ogden will always have a place in my heart.
HIS OFFICE
He was always in his office.
It had everything he needed.
His computer, his bed, his TV.
Everything within arms reach.
He was most comfortable there.
While his wife was sick;
when he too became ill.
It was his sanctuary.
I have known him for almost two years.
I don’t think we talked any other place.
He was always in his office,
welcoming me with his wide grin.
His wife’s been gone almost a year.
He talks about her all of the time.
How much he misses her.
How he knows he’ll be with her soon.
We talked in his office just last week.
He in his desk chair; me nearby.
Talking about his wife and children.
Sharing stories of his life.
Now he is gone.
The end came quite suddenly.
He dying where he was most comfortable.
I know where he chose to be.
His office.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
DID SHE?
Fifty-one year old “Marcia” was diagnosed with stomach cancer two months ago. Her daughter, “Terry” had been after her mother to go to a doctor for weeks. Marcia had always been stubborn and refused to go. When it got to the point that Marcia had to stop during her workday to sit down a lot, she relented to her daughter and saw her doctor. It was then that she was diagnosed with the cancer. Her cancer had already spread to her liver and there was no treatment.
Marcia moved in with her daughter and son-in-law, “Jason”, two weeks ago when she knew she could no longer manage living alone. Terry and Jason both worked, but Terry planned on taking leave when her mother could no longer be left alone. Everyone thought it would be in a month or so, but Marcia’s decline came on rapidly.
Marcia came onto hospice ten days ago. I saw her last week and she was up and about, although eating very little and appeared frail. I did a return visit today and met Terry for the first time. Terry said that mom fell three days ago. It was then Terry put in for her leave and has been home helping her mom.
When I saw Marcia, I was amazed at the changes in her. She was confused, looking, but not really seeing. She was lying in the hospital bed trying to get comfortable. She had a difficult time following instructions and was slow to respond to any questions presented to her.
Terry and I spoke in the kitchen around the corner from where Marcia was resting. I spoke about the end of life process and what to expect. I shared that often patients won’t let go until they know their family is okay. I encouraged Terry to give her mom permission to go if she could. I added that it is okay if you can‘t, but your mom will always be your mom and she wants to make sure you are okay. She will let go at the perfect time for her. Terry started to cry and fell into my arms. We both stood in the kitchen hugging each other.
I called for a chaplain as the patient appeared to want a visit. The chaplain said she could come in one hour. Thirty minutes later, I left the home encouraging Terry to call hospice for anything she needs. Within the thirty minutes of me leaving and the chaplain arriving, Terry died.
I truly believe that patients do let go when the time is perfect for them and when they know their loved ones are going to be okay. Marcia may have wanted to depart with just her daughter present like it had been those first eighteen years of Terry’s life. She may also had known that the chaplain would be there shortly to give Terry the comfort she needed. I guess there are some things that have no clear answers.
DID SHE?
Did she hear us talking?
Did she even know that I was there?
Was she protecting her daughter?
Why did she pick that time to go?
So many unanswered questions.
Likely we will never know why.
Sick for only two short months.
A swift decline in a few days time.
She raised her daughter alone.
For years just the two of them.
Her brothers are nearby and loving.
Her son-in-law is as special as they come.
Seeing her today was such a change.
Up and about no problem last week.
Now bed bound, confused, not eating.
No longer able to swallow.
I prepared her daughter as best I could.
It might be minutes, hours or days.
Talked about her saying goodbye.
Follow your heart and the words will come.
I don’t know if she spoke with her mother.
I don’t know if she found the right words.
But moments after I left the home,
her mother chose to let go.
Did she know her daughter was alone?
Did she time it just for the two of them?
Some may say it was coincidental or chance.
But then,
did she?
Marcia moved in with her daughter and son-in-law, “Jason”, two weeks ago when she knew she could no longer manage living alone. Terry and Jason both worked, but Terry planned on taking leave when her mother could no longer be left alone. Everyone thought it would be in a month or so, but Marcia’s decline came on rapidly.
Marcia came onto hospice ten days ago. I saw her last week and she was up and about, although eating very little and appeared frail. I did a return visit today and met Terry for the first time. Terry said that mom fell three days ago. It was then Terry put in for her leave and has been home helping her mom.
When I saw Marcia, I was amazed at the changes in her. She was confused, looking, but not really seeing. She was lying in the hospital bed trying to get comfortable. She had a difficult time following instructions and was slow to respond to any questions presented to her.
Terry and I spoke in the kitchen around the corner from where Marcia was resting. I spoke about the end of life process and what to expect. I shared that often patients won’t let go until they know their family is okay. I encouraged Terry to give her mom permission to go if she could. I added that it is okay if you can‘t, but your mom will always be your mom and she wants to make sure you are okay. She will let go at the perfect time for her. Terry started to cry and fell into my arms. We both stood in the kitchen hugging each other.
I called for a chaplain as the patient appeared to want a visit. The chaplain said she could come in one hour. Thirty minutes later, I left the home encouraging Terry to call hospice for anything she needs. Within the thirty minutes of me leaving and the chaplain arriving, Terry died.
I truly believe that patients do let go when the time is perfect for them and when they know their loved ones are going to be okay. Marcia may have wanted to depart with just her daughter present like it had been those first eighteen years of Terry’s life. She may also had known that the chaplain would be there shortly to give Terry the comfort she needed. I guess there are some things that have no clear answers.
DID SHE?
Did she hear us talking?
Did she even know that I was there?
Was she protecting her daughter?
Why did she pick that time to go?
So many unanswered questions.
Likely we will never know why.
Sick for only two short months.
A swift decline in a few days time.
She raised her daughter alone.
For years just the two of them.
Her brothers are nearby and loving.
Her son-in-law is as special as they come.
Seeing her today was such a change.
Up and about no problem last week.
Now bed bound, confused, not eating.
No longer able to swallow.
I prepared her daughter as best I could.
It might be minutes, hours or days.
Talked about her saying goodbye.
Follow your heart and the words will come.
I don’t know if she spoke with her mother.
I don’t know if she found the right words.
But moments after I left the home,
her mother chose to let go.
Did she know her daughter was alone?
Did she time it just for the two of them?
Some may say it was coincidental or chance.
But then,
did she?
Saturday, November 3, 2012
TOOTHPICKS
“Jake” suffered from pancreatic cancer. He was diagnosed only two months ago. He went downhill quickly, especially so in the past few weeks. He died peacefully with his wife, “Grace” by his side. Grace and Jake were always teasing each other. They both would laugh so easily at themselves. It was always so uplifting visiting their home as they both would quickly put their guests at ease with their kindness and humor.
Jake died four days ago and Grace asked if I could visit as she needed the support. I was worried about how she would do after Jake died as the two of them were soul mates. They did everything together. They acted like newlyweds with each other which was wonderful.
After I walked in today, Grace immediately started telling me stories about Jake and their life together. They had so many fun times just being together. Her stories weren’t about exotic trips or adventures, but everyday life around their home and neighborhood. She would light up just reminiscing about it all.
Grace then shared the story about finding the toothpick. She says that it gives her peace knowing that Jake made it to the other side and is doing okay. She has strong Christian beliefs where Jake did not. Grace worried a bit about Jake being a non-believer, but now is convinced that he is doing quite well and is waiting for her when her time comes.
She was receptive to meeting with a bereavement counselor next week for support. Because of this and the toothpick, I am pretty sure Grace will be able to process her grief and be able to move on in time. Thoughts of Jake will sadden her, but I believe, will also leave her with a smile.
TOOTHPICKS
He always had a handful of toothpicks.
He would chew on them leaving a small kink.
His supply would run out quickly
as he would drop them all over the house.
It became their private joke.
He leaving toothpicks lying all around.
Losing them and asking her to bring him a few.
She would always respond, “How many more?”
She would pick them up when he dropped them.
The floor, the end table, in the back room.
She would laugh and reprimand him for being so messy,
knowing she will always continue to find more.
He has been gone for only a few days.
She misses not having him around.
He was her soul mate; the love of her life.
She so wants to know if he is doing okay.
They picked up the hospital bed leaving a void.
The living room looks empty without him there.
She moved back the chairs, the end tables, the lamps.
She vacuumed the carpet, all spic and span.
She came back later and walked into the room.
Then noticed something on the living room rug.
A toothpick with his distinctive kink.
He was letting her know that he was okay.
She has peace believing he is in a better place.
No more pain; no more suffering.
All validated by a familiar sign.
A small, kinked, powerful
toothpick.
Jake died four days ago and Grace asked if I could visit as she needed the support. I was worried about how she would do after Jake died as the two of them were soul mates. They did everything together. They acted like newlyweds with each other which was wonderful.
After I walked in today, Grace immediately started telling me stories about Jake and their life together. They had so many fun times just being together. Her stories weren’t about exotic trips or adventures, but everyday life around their home and neighborhood. She would light up just reminiscing about it all.
Grace then shared the story about finding the toothpick. She says that it gives her peace knowing that Jake made it to the other side and is doing okay. She has strong Christian beliefs where Jake did not. Grace worried a bit about Jake being a non-believer, but now is convinced that he is doing quite well and is waiting for her when her time comes.
She was receptive to meeting with a bereavement counselor next week for support. Because of this and the toothpick, I am pretty sure Grace will be able to process her grief and be able to move on in time. Thoughts of Jake will sadden her, but I believe, will also leave her with a smile.
TOOTHPICKS
He always had a handful of toothpicks.
He would chew on them leaving a small kink.
His supply would run out quickly
as he would drop them all over the house.
It became their private joke.
He leaving toothpicks lying all around.
Losing them and asking her to bring him a few.
She would always respond, “How many more?”
She would pick them up when he dropped them.
The floor, the end table, in the back room.
She would laugh and reprimand him for being so messy,
knowing she will always continue to find more.
He has been gone for only a few days.
She misses not having him around.
He was her soul mate; the love of her life.
She so wants to know if he is doing okay.
They picked up the hospital bed leaving a void.
The living room looks empty without him there.
She moved back the chairs, the end tables, the lamps.
She vacuumed the carpet, all spic and span.
She came back later and walked into the room.
Then noticed something on the living room rug.
A toothpick with his distinctive kink.
He was letting her know that he was okay.
She has peace believing he is in a better place.
No more pain; no more suffering.
All validated by a familiar sign.
A small, kinked, powerful
toothpick.
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