“Betty”, eighty-seven, suffers from dementia. She has been in a rapid decline for the past two weeks. She is getting weaker, more confused and unstable on her feet. She is eating very little and has recently lost over ten pounds.
Betty has lived in a Residential Care Facility for three years as she needs constant care and supervision. Betty has been married sixty-six years to “Greg”. Greg lives a mile away and visits Betty every other day. Betty and Greg have four adult children; of which three live nearby. The family is very devoted to Betty.
The hospice admission nurse and I went out to Betty’s facility to meet with Greg and their daughter, “Gloria”. Gloria and Greg just bragged about all of Betty’s accomplishments. She sounded like such an amazing woman. Nothing would ever stop her from reaching her goals. Greg proudly shared so many stories of their travels all over the world.
Betty loved to hike and Greg said he never could keep up with her. Greg is tall and robust while Betty is a little over five feet tall and petite. Greg would laugh while sharing stories about Betty. The family all have a great sense of humor and laugh easily. A few tears were shed, though, when talking about how Betty is today.
Betty doesn’t talk and often does not even recognize her family. She looks content and willingly goes along when staff slowly walk her to dining room for a meal. Likely it is a blessing for her not to remember all that she has lost. Her legacy will remain alive as long as Greg continues to brag and share Betty’s amazing life and stories.
THE HIKER
She loved to hike.
She’s trekked all over the world.
He bragged about her endurance.
How he never could keep up with her.
She hiked Mt. Kilimanjaro.
She hiked parts of Mt. Everest.
Nothing she did ever surprised him.
She was a trailblazer from the start.
He bragged about her intellect.
How she got a degree in Chemistry,
while other women her generation
were proud to be homemakers.
Seeing her now, one would be surprised.
Tiny, frail, confused, helpless.
Any resemblance of her adventurous spirit,
now buried way too deep inside.
He still sees an inspirational woman.
He sees her pioneering spirit.
He sees the woman he fell in love with
so many years ago.
The trailblazer;
the hiker.
Saturday, December 27, 2014
Saturday, December 20, 2014
A MOTHER
“Diana” was diagnosed with uterine cancer three months ago on her forty-first birthday. Diana has been in the hospital for several days and initiated the hospice referral herself. Diana wants to be able to control everything. She has had so many losses due to her illness, that she, like any of us, wants to be able to keep control as much as she can.
The hospice nurse and I went out to the hospital to admit Diana to hospice. We met with Diana and her mother, “Shelly”. The nurse will make the arrangements for Diana to be discharged home this afternoon. The plan is for Shelly to move in and care for her daughter for the duration. Diana is single and has no children. Diana has two siblings and a three year old nephew. This is a small, but close family. Diana’s brother is also moving in to help out with his sister‘s care. Diana’s sister is eight months pregnant and is limited in what she is able to do.
Diana has a PhD in Sociology and handles her emotions intellectually. Shelly says that her daughter has always been very stoic and accepting of whatever comes her way. When I asked Diana how she is coping, she says she has such a good family and friend network that she is doing fine. She focuses on the tasks that are needed to be done.
Shelly, on the other hand, was appropriately tearful. While the nurse was attending to Diana, Shelly and I spoke at the foot of her daughter’s bed. Shelly was bragging on her daughter’s accomplishments which embarrassed her daughter. Diana does not like her mother talking about her as she said “Mom, take it outside in the hallway.”
Shelly then started to talk about how she would do anything to help her daughter, even die for her. Shelly and I talked about how this is somehow all out of order. No parent should ever have to attend a child’s funeral. Shelly was very open and honest with her emotions. She is angry at the doctors for not diagnosing her daughter sooner. She also feels so helpless as there is nothing she can do to save her daughter.
I listened to her and told her how normal all of her feelings were. So much of what she said, I could relate on one level, but then could not even imagine such pain. She then got tearful and I gave her a hug. She then crumbled into my arms and just sobbed. Shelly, too, needs a mother who can nurture her. No matter what age, any of us do need nurturing now and then.
Hopefully when Diana gets home tonight with her friends and family around, she, Shelly and all can get the support and care they all so need. I wish them well.
ADDENDUM: Diana died peacefully four days later with her family at the bedside.
A MOTHER
Her heart is breaking.
This is all too new; too fast.
A mother watching her child die.
I cannot even imagine.
She is my age; my generation.
Her daughter could as easily been mine.
Somehow it is all out of order.
“I would do anything for her.”
With so many obtrusive emotions,
it is hard to sort her feelings out.
Sorrow, anger, helplessness.
Nothing can take her pain away.
She needs to share her feelings,
but what words can she use?
Her daughter handles things so differently.
She is in a totally different space.
I listened to her anger.
I listened to her grief.
She cried while I held her.
Tenderness no words can replace.
She will be by her daughter’s side.
She will put her daughter’s needs first.
After all she is,
and forevermore
will always be
a perfect Mother.
The hospice nurse and I went out to the hospital to admit Diana to hospice. We met with Diana and her mother, “Shelly”. The nurse will make the arrangements for Diana to be discharged home this afternoon. The plan is for Shelly to move in and care for her daughter for the duration. Diana is single and has no children. Diana has two siblings and a three year old nephew. This is a small, but close family. Diana’s brother is also moving in to help out with his sister‘s care. Diana’s sister is eight months pregnant and is limited in what she is able to do.
Diana has a PhD in Sociology and handles her emotions intellectually. Shelly says that her daughter has always been very stoic and accepting of whatever comes her way. When I asked Diana how she is coping, she says she has such a good family and friend network that she is doing fine. She focuses on the tasks that are needed to be done.
Shelly, on the other hand, was appropriately tearful. While the nurse was attending to Diana, Shelly and I spoke at the foot of her daughter’s bed. Shelly was bragging on her daughter’s accomplishments which embarrassed her daughter. Diana does not like her mother talking about her as she said “Mom, take it outside in the hallway.”
Shelly then started to talk about how she would do anything to help her daughter, even die for her. Shelly and I talked about how this is somehow all out of order. No parent should ever have to attend a child’s funeral. Shelly was very open and honest with her emotions. She is angry at the doctors for not diagnosing her daughter sooner. She also feels so helpless as there is nothing she can do to save her daughter.
I listened to her and told her how normal all of her feelings were. So much of what she said, I could relate on one level, but then could not even imagine such pain. She then got tearful and I gave her a hug. She then crumbled into my arms and just sobbed. Shelly, too, needs a mother who can nurture her. No matter what age, any of us do need nurturing now and then.
Hopefully when Diana gets home tonight with her friends and family around, she, Shelly and all can get the support and care they all so need. I wish them well.
ADDENDUM: Diana died peacefully four days later with her family at the bedside.
A MOTHER
Her heart is breaking.
This is all too new; too fast.
A mother watching her child die.
I cannot even imagine.
She is my age; my generation.
Her daughter could as easily been mine.
Somehow it is all out of order.
“I would do anything for her.”
With so many obtrusive emotions,
it is hard to sort her feelings out.
Sorrow, anger, helplessness.
Nothing can take her pain away.
She needs to share her feelings,
but what words can she use?
Her daughter handles things so differently.
She is in a totally different space.
I listened to her anger.
I listened to her grief.
She cried while I held her.
Tenderness no words can replace.
She will be by her daughter’s side.
She will put her daughter’s needs first.
After all she is,
and forevermore
will always be
a perfect Mother.
Saturday, December 13, 2014
CAN'T AGREE
“Ingrid”, seventy-two, took a fall six days ago. She says she lost consciousness and fell flat on her face. The left side of her face is bruised from that fall. Ingrid has a history of lung, cardiac and kidney disease. Ingrid lives with “Edgar”, her husband of fifty-five years. The couple have five adult children; although only two live locally.
Due to Ingrid’s recent decline, the hospice nurse and I went out to admit Ingrid to hospice. Ingrid’s husband and two of her children, “Jim” and “Liz“, were at the bedside when we walked into her hospital room. The plan was to discharge Ingrid home today.
After we introduced ourselves, Edgar, Jim and Liz immediately started talking all at once, overpowering Ingrid. The three of them would interrupt each other and order each other around as to what to say or do.
One of the first questions I like to ask patients and families is about their understanding of why the doctor made a hospice referral. The doctor may have predicted a life span of six months or less, but often one can be selective to what they are ready to hear. There are times, when the doctor doesn’t even share why it is time for hospice to be involved. I don’t want to assume the family understands why.
I had directed that question to Ingrid. She was attempting to answer my question, but was struggling with the words. The family started to talk for her. Each one had a different answer as to why a referral was made. Finally Liz told her brother and father that I had asked Ingrid about what her thoughts were. Ingrid has been on oxygen since in the hospital, but hadn’t been prior. With her extensive lung disease, her fuzziness may be from lack of oxygen to her brain. The family did not have the patience to allow Ingrid to articulate in her own way.
Between the three of them, there was a lot of anxiety and impatience to get things done right now. One could feel the tension in the room, but also feel the love all three had for Ingrid. This frenzied behavior is normal for this family and somehow works for them. The one thing any of us miss most is our normal. Normal is what Ingrid needs. I just bet she can’t wait to get home to her “lively” normal.
CAN’T AGREE
The three of them were so vigilant.
Their concern directed only for her.
She’s been in the hospital for almost a week.
They just want to get her home.
The plan is to discharge her later today;
once the oxygen and bed get set up at home.
She’s been a bit fuzzy; not quite herself;
since she took that dramatic fall.
All three believe they know what’s best.
None of them think to simply ask her.
They interrupt each other constantly;
each determined in what she needs.
He gets anxious; his son says to calm down.
She starts to say something, but stops midway.
The three of them jump in all at once,
finishing up what she must mean.
They can’t agree on anything.
They all have their own ideas.
What she needs; what is best.
All three set in their own ways.
Between the bickering and the interruptions;
there is at least one thing
they can easily agree;
their love and devotion
to her.
Due to Ingrid’s recent decline, the hospice nurse and I went out to admit Ingrid to hospice. Ingrid’s husband and two of her children, “Jim” and “Liz“, were at the bedside when we walked into her hospital room. The plan was to discharge Ingrid home today.
After we introduced ourselves, Edgar, Jim and Liz immediately started talking all at once, overpowering Ingrid. The three of them would interrupt each other and order each other around as to what to say or do.
One of the first questions I like to ask patients and families is about their understanding of why the doctor made a hospice referral. The doctor may have predicted a life span of six months or less, but often one can be selective to what they are ready to hear. There are times, when the doctor doesn’t even share why it is time for hospice to be involved. I don’t want to assume the family understands why.
I had directed that question to Ingrid. She was attempting to answer my question, but was struggling with the words. The family started to talk for her. Each one had a different answer as to why a referral was made. Finally Liz told her brother and father that I had asked Ingrid about what her thoughts were. Ingrid has been on oxygen since in the hospital, but hadn’t been prior. With her extensive lung disease, her fuzziness may be from lack of oxygen to her brain. The family did not have the patience to allow Ingrid to articulate in her own way.
Between the three of them, there was a lot of anxiety and impatience to get things done right now. One could feel the tension in the room, but also feel the love all three had for Ingrid. This frenzied behavior is normal for this family and somehow works for them. The one thing any of us miss most is our normal. Normal is what Ingrid needs. I just bet she can’t wait to get home to her “lively” normal.
CAN’T AGREE
The three of them were so vigilant.
Their concern directed only for her.
She’s been in the hospital for almost a week.
They just want to get her home.
The plan is to discharge her later today;
once the oxygen and bed get set up at home.
She’s been a bit fuzzy; not quite herself;
since she took that dramatic fall.
All three believe they know what’s best.
None of them think to simply ask her.
They interrupt each other constantly;
each determined in what she needs.
He gets anxious; his son says to calm down.
She starts to say something, but stops midway.
The three of them jump in all at once,
finishing up what she must mean.
They can’t agree on anything.
They all have their own ideas.
What she needs; what is best.
All three set in their own ways.
Between the bickering and the interruptions;
there is at least one thing
they can easily agree;
their love and devotion
to her.
Saturday, December 6, 2014
MISERY
“Dylan”, fifty-six, suffers from tongue cancer. He had been doing well until two months ago when he started to decline. Dylan was admitted to a Skilled Nursing Facility shortly afterwards. He is now bedridden and requires assistance with all of his needs. He appears to understand, but his words are few.
Dylan is divorced and has two adult sons. Both of his boys live in North Africa and, fortunately, Dylan was able to visit them this past summer. Dylan has four siblings living locally, who are very devoted and supportive of him.
The hospice nurse and I went out to admit Dylan to our hospice program yesterday. Five weeks ago, Dylan was in the hospital when the doctors put in a trach for his breathing and a feeding tube for nutrition. Both procedures were urgent at the time. The family feels that Dylan likely just went along with the doctors. Looking back, the family feels that if Dylan had time to think about things, it likely is something he never would have opted for
Dylan is so thin, it is obvious that he is no longer processing the nutrition. The hospice nurse spoke with the family regarding the feeding tube and the family chose to stop all nutrition. The goal now is to keep Dylan comfortable for what little time he has left.
The family showed the nurse and I Dylan’s driver’s license photo. We saw a vital, robust man. Now Dylan is a shell of what he once was. The family said he had such a sense of humor and was always laughing. Now, he just lies there, not speaking, with his eyes tracking us.
I can’t get him off my mind. Why does someone have to suffer so? It would be a blessing for God to take him. There are things worse than death. In my opinion, this is one of them.
ADDENDUM: Dylan died four days later with his family at the bedside. They said it was peaceful. I pray the family has some comfort from that and that Dylan has finally found his eternal peace.
MISERY
I can’t stop thinking about him.
Lying there all alone.
So weak; so thin; not talking.
Why does he have to live this way?
His tongue is swollen from the cancer.
He can’t even close his own mouth.
It looks so uncomfortable and frustrating.
He lies there just existing.
He has a feeding tube and a trach.
Machines are extending his life.
He can’t tell us what he wants.
No one would choose to be this way.
The family has to make some tough choices.
Mixed emotions challenge them all.
They aren’t ready for him to die,
but will be relieved when his suffering is done.
If he could talk, what would he tell us?
I am sure most would say, “I’m done”.
I pray for God to take him soon.
Relieve him of this suffering; this misery.
Please God, take him home.
Dylan is divorced and has two adult sons. Both of his boys live in North Africa and, fortunately, Dylan was able to visit them this past summer. Dylan has four siblings living locally, who are very devoted and supportive of him.
The hospice nurse and I went out to admit Dylan to our hospice program yesterday. Five weeks ago, Dylan was in the hospital when the doctors put in a trach for his breathing and a feeding tube for nutrition. Both procedures were urgent at the time. The family feels that Dylan likely just went along with the doctors. Looking back, the family feels that if Dylan had time to think about things, it likely is something he never would have opted for
Dylan is so thin, it is obvious that he is no longer processing the nutrition. The hospice nurse spoke with the family regarding the feeding tube and the family chose to stop all nutrition. The goal now is to keep Dylan comfortable for what little time he has left.
The family showed the nurse and I Dylan’s driver’s license photo. We saw a vital, robust man. Now Dylan is a shell of what he once was. The family said he had such a sense of humor and was always laughing. Now, he just lies there, not speaking, with his eyes tracking us.
I can’t get him off my mind. Why does someone have to suffer so? It would be a blessing for God to take him. There are things worse than death. In my opinion, this is one of them.
ADDENDUM: Dylan died four days later with his family at the bedside. They said it was peaceful. I pray the family has some comfort from that and that Dylan has finally found his eternal peace.
MISERY
I can’t stop thinking about him.
Lying there all alone.
So weak; so thin; not talking.
Why does he have to live this way?
His tongue is swollen from the cancer.
He can’t even close his own mouth.
It looks so uncomfortable and frustrating.
He lies there just existing.
He has a feeding tube and a trach.
Machines are extending his life.
He can’t tell us what he wants.
No one would choose to be this way.
The family has to make some tough choices.
Mixed emotions challenge them all.
They aren’t ready for him to die,
but will be relieved when his suffering is done.
If he could talk, what would he tell us?
I am sure most would say, “I’m done”.
I pray for God to take him soon.
Relieve him of this suffering; this misery.
Please God, take him home.
Saturday, November 29, 2014
LATER
“Ellen”, ninety years old, was admitted to hospice today because of a recent decline in her health. Ellen suffers from Alzheimer’s Disease. These past several weeks, Ellen has become more confused, weaker and needing more help.
Ellen lives with “George”, her husband of fifty-eight years. When the hospice nurse and I first walked into their apartment at the Assisted Living Center to admit Ellen to hospice, George immediately started to ask questions about the hospice program. After explaining what hospice can offer the family, George was happy that Ellen could stay at home. That was his biggest concern.
George comes across brusque and abrupt when one asks him about how he is coping. Grief support is a large part of what hospice can offer families and patients. When explaining the hospice program to families, I like to be thorough regarding the benefit. I want to make sure hospice is a good match for the family. Often doctors make a referral to hospice without patient’s and families truly understanding what it is all about.
Any time I even broached the subject of the grieving process, our bereavement program or coping skills, George immediately said, “Those things can come later”. George tried so hard to hide his big heart without success. It was so obvious how much he adored his wife. Ellen’s death will be a huge loss for George, but he just can’t go there yet. He spoke about Ellen needing to be by his side when they were sleeping. I have a feeling, George was speaking also about himself.
George and Ellen’s daughter, “Beverly”, was also present during the visit. Beverly shared that she is worried about her father after her mother is gone. I told her that the assigned social worker can meet George where he is at by using baby steps to sneak in some grief counseling with him. Hopefully George will get the help he needs, in his terms and at his time. Even if it is later.
LATER
He comes across abrupt.
Trying hard to hide any emotion.
“Let’s get on with things.
Let’s get this paperwork done.”
She’s declined these past few weeks.
She is much more confused than before.
She needs more care as has no strength.
He’s hired attendants to help her out.
When asked about how he is coping,
he will immediately reply,
“I will worry about things later.
Now is not the time.”
He said no to a hospital bed.
“It gives her comfort,
when she reaches out at night,
knowing I am lying by her side.”
He likes that hospice comes to them.
His biggest concern is her comfort.
He wants her to be able to stay at home.
“It calms her to see me here.”
It is so obvious how much he loves her;
how much he is going to miss her.
He’ll continue to hide his heart,
until, hopefully,
he will reach out.
later.
Ellen lives with “George”, her husband of fifty-eight years. When the hospice nurse and I first walked into their apartment at the Assisted Living Center to admit Ellen to hospice, George immediately started to ask questions about the hospice program. After explaining what hospice can offer the family, George was happy that Ellen could stay at home. That was his biggest concern.
George comes across brusque and abrupt when one asks him about how he is coping. Grief support is a large part of what hospice can offer families and patients. When explaining the hospice program to families, I like to be thorough regarding the benefit. I want to make sure hospice is a good match for the family. Often doctors make a referral to hospice without patient’s and families truly understanding what it is all about.
Any time I even broached the subject of the grieving process, our bereavement program or coping skills, George immediately said, “Those things can come later”. George tried so hard to hide his big heart without success. It was so obvious how much he adored his wife. Ellen’s death will be a huge loss for George, but he just can’t go there yet. He spoke about Ellen needing to be by his side when they were sleeping. I have a feeling, George was speaking also about himself.
George and Ellen’s daughter, “Beverly”, was also present during the visit. Beverly shared that she is worried about her father after her mother is gone. I told her that the assigned social worker can meet George where he is at by using baby steps to sneak in some grief counseling with him. Hopefully George will get the help he needs, in his terms and at his time. Even if it is later.
LATER
He comes across abrupt.
Trying hard to hide any emotion.
“Let’s get on with things.
Let’s get this paperwork done.”
She’s declined these past few weeks.
She is much more confused than before.
She needs more care as has no strength.
He’s hired attendants to help her out.
When asked about how he is coping,
he will immediately reply,
“I will worry about things later.
Now is not the time.”
He said no to a hospital bed.
“It gives her comfort,
when she reaches out at night,
knowing I am lying by her side.”
He likes that hospice comes to them.
His biggest concern is her comfort.
He wants her to be able to stay at home.
“It calms her to see me here.”
It is so obvious how much he loves her;
how much he is going to miss her.
He’ll continue to hide his heart,
until, hopefully,
he will reach out.
later.
Saturday, November 22, 2014
HOSPICE
I went out to admit “Greg”, sixty-three to hospice today. Greg was diagnosed four months ago with lung cancer that has spread to his brain. Greg has had a rapid decline this past week to where he is wobbly on his feet, weak and states, “I just feel crummy”. Greg lives with his wife, “Ilsa”. They have been married thirty-one years.
Greg has two children from a previous marriage while Ilsa has three. Greg states that he has five children all together. This is a very supportive, loving, blended family. Greg has no fears about dying saying, “I have had a wonderful life.” I had met Greg and Ilsa a month ago when a hospice nurse and I went out to educate Greg and Ilsa about the Hospice program. Greg only wanted information at the time. He wasn’t quite ready to come onto hospice.
Greg was now ready to be admitted to hospice. Greg’s daughter, “Heather” was visiting during today’s visit. Before I start to explain the hospice program, I always ask patients and families if they have any questions. Heather asked if hospice rushes the death along. I am never surprised when I hear a question like Heather’s. It is something the hospice staff hears all the time.
Doctors make a referral with an estimation of a life span of six months or less. I tell patients that the doctor is basing his decision on their health history and diagnosis. What doctors cannot put in that equation is the patient’s heart, drive, soul, independence, stubbornness, miracles etc. We all have our own individual journey. Hospice is totally about comfort care and quality of life as defined by the patient.
Once patients and families have an understanding that the patient is in charge in how things proceed, one can see relief in their faces. Patients lose so much independence with a terminal diagnosis. In addition to the loss of their health, they also lose so much control of not being able to do what they enjoy etc. The whole family is grieving and trying to regain some balance.
Hospice is guided by the patient and family in how things will work. We are all living, giving and receiving until we breathe our last breath. No more no less.
HOSPICE
She asked me about hospice.
She didn’t quite understand.
“Are you going to help him die?
Do you rush things along?”
Doctors make a referral.
Families don’t know what to expect.
“Does this mean I die in ten days?”
“Will I have pain until the end?”
Valid questions we hear every day.
Fear, uncertainty, feeling overwhelmed.
Not sure where their road is turning.
Trying to regain some control.
Hospice is all about comfort and quality of life.
We tell the patient that they are in charge.
Let us know how you want to do things.
We‘re right next to you, to help you along.
Relief comes with the knowledge of hospice;
knowing that they are never alone.
You see it in their faces,
you hear it in their words.
Living, loving, embracing life.
Saying what needs to be said;
doing what needs to be done
until the end.
Hospice.
Greg has two children from a previous marriage while Ilsa has three. Greg states that he has five children all together. This is a very supportive, loving, blended family. Greg has no fears about dying saying, “I have had a wonderful life.” I had met Greg and Ilsa a month ago when a hospice nurse and I went out to educate Greg and Ilsa about the Hospice program. Greg only wanted information at the time. He wasn’t quite ready to come onto hospice.
Greg was now ready to be admitted to hospice. Greg’s daughter, “Heather” was visiting during today’s visit. Before I start to explain the hospice program, I always ask patients and families if they have any questions. Heather asked if hospice rushes the death along. I am never surprised when I hear a question like Heather’s. It is something the hospice staff hears all the time.
Doctors make a referral with an estimation of a life span of six months or less. I tell patients that the doctor is basing his decision on their health history and diagnosis. What doctors cannot put in that equation is the patient’s heart, drive, soul, independence, stubbornness, miracles etc. We all have our own individual journey. Hospice is totally about comfort care and quality of life as defined by the patient.
Once patients and families have an understanding that the patient is in charge in how things proceed, one can see relief in their faces. Patients lose so much independence with a terminal diagnosis. In addition to the loss of their health, they also lose so much control of not being able to do what they enjoy etc. The whole family is grieving and trying to regain some balance.
Hospice is guided by the patient and family in how things will work. We are all living, giving and receiving until we breathe our last breath. No more no less.
HOSPICE
She asked me about hospice.
She didn’t quite understand.
“Are you going to help him die?
Do you rush things along?”
Doctors make a referral.
Families don’t know what to expect.
“Does this mean I die in ten days?”
“Will I have pain until the end?”
Valid questions we hear every day.
Fear, uncertainty, feeling overwhelmed.
Not sure where their road is turning.
Trying to regain some control.
Hospice is all about comfort and quality of life.
We tell the patient that they are in charge.
Let us know how you want to do things.
We‘re right next to you, to help you along.
Relief comes with the knowledge of hospice;
knowing that they are never alone.
You see it in their faces,
you hear it in their words.
Living, loving, embracing life.
Saying what needs to be said;
doing what needs to be done
until the end.
Hospice.
Sunday, November 16, 2014
PRACTICAL
“Daniel”, aged 70, was admitted to hospice today with a recent diagnosis of lung cancer that has spread to his brain. Daniel lives with his second wife, “Laurie”. Both Laurie and Daniel have two children from previous marriages. Since Daniel’s cancer diagnosis two months ago, he has become weaker to where he uses a walker when walking outside. He can still manage to maneuver in his home by holding onto furniture etc.
Daniel is very practical and matter of fact. When speaking about his cancer, he stated, “I did this to myself,” adding that he smoked and drank for years. Daniel continued on, saying that he only stopped drinking and smoking when he received the cancer diagnosis two months ago. He is straightforward and shows no emotion regarding his terminal diagnosis and decline.
Laurie, on the other hand, will get tearful when speaking about what has been happening to her husband. Fortunately, she has great support from several girlfriends. Daniel shared a lot of stories about being a motorcycle cop. He was straightforward when speaking about the rough side of life, but his face did light up when sharing how he delivered three babies during his career. He stated, “I think there is a little Daniel out there somewhere.”
Daniel is very practical regarding stress in his life. He also is very composed when speaking about the love for his wife. Life is just very practical and simple to him. It has worked for Daniel for seventy years and it will continue to work for him until the end. I wish he and his family well.
PRACTICAL
He is a very pragmatic man.
Straightforward in every respect.
No matter what, he will react
in a direct and practical way.
He was a cop for thirty years.
Stories about criminals and drug addicts.
He treated each with the same respect.
No judgment, no blame.
He’s sees life as black or white;
not even a hint of seeing anything grey.
He’ll tell you about his family problems
in a humorous and matter-of-fact way.
He’ll tell you all about his daughter.
How she has struggled with drugs for years.
To no surprise, he is candid and frank,
“She and her two children
all have the same probation officer.”
He does worry about his family though.
It’s harder for the ones left behind.
He has no fears or unfinished business;
only wanting to know the exact date he will die.
No one will be surprised
as he will die the way he has lived;
steadfast, practical, humorous.
His family wouldn’t have it any other way.
Daniel is very practical and matter of fact. When speaking about his cancer, he stated, “I did this to myself,” adding that he smoked and drank for years. Daniel continued on, saying that he only stopped drinking and smoking when he received the cancer diagnosis two months ago. He is straightforward and shows no emotion regarding his terminal diagnosis and decline.
Laurie, on the other hand, will get tearful when speaking about what has been happening to her husband. Fortunately, she has great support from several girlfriends. Daniel shared a lot of stories about being a motorcycle cop. He was straightforward when speaking about the rough side of life, but his face did light up when sharing how he delivered three babies during his career. He stated, “I think there is a little Daniel out there somewhere.”
Daniel is very practical regarding stress in his life. He also is very composed when speaking about the love for his wife. Life is just very practical and simple to him. It has worked for Daniel for seventy years and it will continue to work for him until the end. I wish he and his family well.
PRACTICAL
He is a very pragmatic man.
Straightforward in every respect.
No matter what, he will react
in a direct and practical way.
He was a cop for thirty years.
Stories about criminals and drug addicts.
He treated each with the same respect.
No judgment, no blame.
He’s sees life as black or white;
not even a hint of seeing anything grey.
He’ll tell you about his family problems
in a humorous and matter-of-fact way.
He’ll tell you all about his daughter.
How she has struggled with drugs for years.
To no surprise, he is candid and frank,
“She and her two children
all have the same probation officer.”
He does worry about his family though.
It’s harder for the ones left behind.
He has no fears or unfinished business;
only wanting to know the exact date he will die.
No one will be surprised
as he will die the way he has lived;
steadfast, practical, humorous.
His family wouldn’t have it any other way.
Saturday, November 8, 2014
DEPRESSION
I went out to open “Penelope”, who is eighty-seven, to hospice today. Penelope suffers from esophageal cancer. Penelope also has dementia and is pleasantly confused. Penelope was sitting in her recliner when we walked into her living room. She easily smiles as she loves the company.
Penelope has never married and has no children. Her family consists of many nieces and nephews. Her niece, “Diana”, is the contact person and is responsible for Penelope‘s care. Diana lives about thirty minutes away and visits often. Diana recently hired twenty-four hour attendant care to manage Penelope’s needs.
Diana was sitting on the couch when the nurse and I walked into the home. Diana is devoted to her aunt and is diligent in making sure all of her needs are met. Penelope struggles with keeping up with any conversation. She deals with it by smiling and then pointing to her niece to answer any question that comes up.
Diana, like her aunt, was very pleasant and social. At one point, I asked Diana how she is coping with all of this. It was then when she shared how she attempted suicide years ago by shooting herself in her head. The bullet lodged near her eye. Diana has some slurred speech, likely from that injury.
Diana talked at length about her depression and her life. Fortunately, she has one close friend/spiritual guide, that gives her support. Diana is on anti-depressants, but does not see a therapist. I encouraged her to think about seeing a therapist as well as reaching out to her spiritual friend for support.
Depression is such a powerful emotion. It makes me sad when hearing about suicide as one feels that is the only option they have. How blessed most of us are to be able to recognize the joy, laughter and love in our lives. I wish Penelope and Diana all the best.
DEPRESSION
She has been depressed for years,
never finding joy in her world.
She was unsuccessful in one suicide attempt.
She still thinks about suicide every day.
She owns a dog grooming business.
She cares for the pets in her home.
She feels responsible to her clients;
giving her purpose to continue to hold on.
She is now the primary caretaker for her aunt.
Her aunt is confused and needs constant care.
Having attendants around the clock helps a lot.
One less thing to worry about.
Her aunt’s quality of life is diminishing.
She is confused and forgets a lot.
She cannot keep up with any conversation,
but will smile and just go along.
With sad eyes, she watched her aunt sitting in the recliner.
She wishes she could trade places with her.
“Not that I want her to continue to live this way,
but I would prefer to die”.
Despair, melancholy, sadness, grief;
overshadowing any joy or happiness inside.
Others easily see her thoughtful, caring heart.
Hopefully, one day, she too, will believe.
Depression.
Penelope has never married and has no children. Her family consists of many nieces and nephews. Her niece, “Diana”, is the contact person and is responsible for Penelope‘s care. Diana lives about thirty minutes away and visits often. Diana recently hired twenty-four hour attendant care to manage Penelope’s needs.
Diana was sitting on the couch when the nurse and I walked into the home. Diana is devoted to her aunt and is diligent in making sure all of her needs are met. Penelope struggles with keeping up with any conversation. She deals with it by smiling and then pointing to her niece to answer any question that comes up.
Diana, like her aunt, was very pleasant and social. At one point, I asked Diana how she is coping with all of this. It was then when she shared how she attempted suicide years ago by shooting herself in her head. The bullet lodged near her eye. Diana has some slurred speech, likely from that injury.
Diana talked at length about her depression and her life. Fortunately, she has one close friend/spiritual guide, that gives her support. Diana is on anti-depressants, but does not see a therapist. I encouraged her to think about seeing a therapist as well as reaching out to her spiritual friend for support.
Depression is such a powerful emotion. It makes me sad when hearing about suicide as one feels that is the only option they have. How blessed most of us are to be able to recognize the joy, laughter and love in our lives. I wish Penelope and Diana all the best.
DEPRESSION
She has been depressed for years,
never finding joy in her world.
She was unsuccessful in one suicide attempt.
She still thinks about suicide every day.
She owns a dog grooming business.
She cares for the pets in her home.
She feels responsible to her clients;
giving her purpose to continue to hold on.
She is now the primary caretaker for her aunt.
Her aunt is confused and needs constant care.
Having attendants around the clock helps a lot.
One less thing to worry about.
Her aunt’s quality of life is diminishing.
She is confused and forgets a lot.
She cannot keep up with any conversation,
but will smile and just go along.
With sad eyes, she watched her aunt sitting in the recliner.
She wishes she could trade places with her.
“Not that I want her to continue to live this way,
but I would prefer to die”.
Despair, melancholy, sadness, grief;
overshadowing any joy or happiness inside.
Others easily see her thoughtful, caring heart.
Hopefully, one day, she too, will believe.
Depression.
Saturday, November 1, 2014
HEART
“Barb”, seventy-eight, suffers from end stage cardiac disease. Barb lives with, “Jim“, her husband of forty years. Barb was discharged home today after a month hospital stay. The doctors were treating her heart disease to no avail. Barb finally told her doctors that she’s had enough and wanted to go home.
The nurse and I went out today to admit Barb to hospice. Barb was lying in her hospital bed in the living room. Jim answered the door and then quickly returned to Barb’s side. He was fussing around adjusting her pillows and blankets. He was so concerned that she wasn’t comfortable.
Jim was so worried about Barb. The minute we walked in, Jim wanted the nurse to check Barb out to make sure she was okay. I went and sat in the kitchen with Barb’s two daughters from a previous marriage. I discussed hospice and the support we can offer to families. Both daughters live nearby and visit daily. Barb’s sister is also visiting from out of town and will be staying for several more days. There is a lot of family support.
After about thirty minutes, Jim did come to the kitchen table and sit down with us. I was then able to quickly explain our program and have him sign paperwork. He said he only wanted the short version as he didn’t want to spend much time not being with Barb.
Men like to fix things because they are good at it. Often men will grieve by doing tasks like tinkering with the car, gardening, jogging etc. Jim may be afraid to show any emotion as he fears he will lose total control. All Jim can think to do is to fix things for Barb. That is what he knows.
Jim is so devoted to Barb. He would give up his life for her. He will do whatever he has to do to help her. His love is that strong. It appears Barb likely has only weeks to live. Hopefully, with his family and hospice’s help, he can have the support he needs to get through this difficult time.
HEART
His heart is breaking.
He doesn’t know what to do.
Any wish she wants is not too big.
He’ll do whatever it takes for her.
She mentioned some food.
He quickly ran to the store.
She seemed uncomfortable;
he rearranged her covers.
He has to keep busy; to keep moving.
He can’t seem to quite slow down.
He’s like an anxious hummingbird;
fluttering all around.
She is just home from a long hospital stay.
Her heart disease is now end stage.
She had all the tests and treatments.
There is nothing more to be done.
He is so angry at the doctors
as they didn’t listen to him.
He has a solution he knows would work.
“Take my heart and give it to her.”
His heart is breaking.
He doesn’t know what to do.
Any wish she wants is not too big.
He’ll do whatever it takes
for her.
The nurse and I went out today to admit Barb to hospice. Barb was lying in her hospital bed in the living room. Jim answered the door and then quickly returned to Barb’s side. He was fussing around adjusting her pillows and blankets. He was so concerned that she wasn’t comfortable.
Jim was so worried about Barb. The minute we walked in, Jim wanted the nurse to check Barb out to make sure she was okay. I went and sat in the kitchen with Barb’s two daughters from a previous marriage. I discussed hospice and the support we can offer to families. Both daughters live nearby and visit daily. Barb’s sister is also visiting from out of town and will be staying for several more days. There is a lot of family support.
After about thirty minutes, Jim did come to the kitchen table and sit down with us. I was then able to quickly explain our program and have him sign paperwork. He said he only wanted the short version as he didn’t want to spend much time not being with Barb.
Men like to fix things because they are good at it. Often men will grieve by doing tasks like tinkering with the car, gardening, jogging etc. Jim may be afraid to show any emotion as he fears he will lose total control. All Jim can think to do is to fix things for Barb. That is what he knows.
Jim is so devoted to Barb. He would give up his life for her. He will do whatever he has to do to help her. His love is that strong. It appears Barb likely has only weeks to live. Hopefully, with his family and hospice’s help, he can have the support he needs to get through this difficult time.
HEART
His heart is breaking.
He doesn’t know what to do.
Any wish she wants is not too big.
He’ll do whatever it takes for her.
She mentioned some food.
He quickly ran to the store.
She seemed uncomfortable;
he rearranged her covers.
He has to keep busy; to keep moving.
He can’t seem to quite slow down.
He’s like an anxious hummingbird;
fluttering all around.
She is just home from a long hospital stay.
Her heart disease is now end stage.
She had all the tests and treatments.
There is nothing more to be done.
He is so angry at the doctors
as they didn’t listen to him.
He has a solution he knows would work.
“Take my heart and give it to her.”
His heart is breaking.
He doesn’t know what to do.
Any wish she wants is not too big.
He’ll do whatever it takes
for her.
Saturday, October 25, 2014
ALMOST A YEAR
Later this week, it will have been a year that I was admitted into the hospital for a ruptured appendix. While in the emergency room, I had an “out-of-body” experience. I almost died that day, but felt it wasn’t my time while standing outside heaven’s gate. The entire experience of being in the hospital 19 days and fully recovering from such a critical diagnosis, while getting a peek of the other side, has been life changing.
Feeling the love of so many is what has stayed with me. I have always had so many that I care about and have known that so many care back to me as well. But living the reality of that support has reached another amazing level. This experience has brought up so many questions with no answers for me. Why did I experience this? What do I need to do with this?
I have always been one to follow my heart and have been sharing my incredible story when it felt right to do so. I have had so many remarkable experiences with sharing my story. I have come to terms that likely I don’t need to know why or what to do with it. I feel that the story needs to be shared. I trust that feeling, so that is what I do.
The hospice nurse and I went to the same hospital today to admit a new patient to our service. While walking into the hospital and experiencing the familiar environment, memories came flooding back. I have such mixed emotions of amazement, blessings and astonishment. That experience was one of the toughest things I have ever had to go through, but the love and support is what stays with me. It might be what others with Post Traumatic Stress Disease (PTSD) experience, although I feel I have PTBD, (Post Traumatic Blessed Disease).
I feel blessed to have had this experience even with all of the fear and pain. I wouldn’t change a thing. It has changed my life in so many amazing ways. I thank God each and every day for stretching me to a higher awakening.
ALMOST A YEAR
It has been almost a year
since I saw the other side.
Fall was in the air,
when God blessed me with divine.
It’s been an amazing year.
Sharing my story with so many.
Trying to comfort with my experience.
Needing to enlighten and reveal.
I still am trying to process things,
while attempting to stay in the flow.
Sharing the story when my heart directs.
Not knowing what else to do with it all.
I walked those same hospital halls today.
The first time in almost a year.
All the emotions have flooded back;
the amazement; the blessings; the fears.
I am still not sure why I got a small peak;
a glimpse of the other side.
Maybe one day I will understand,
but for now, I will continue to share,
as that’s all that I know,
like I have been doing
for almost a year.
Feeling the love of so many is what has stayed with me. I have always had so many that I care about and have known that so many care back to me as well. But living the reality of that support has reached another amazing level. This experience has brought up so many questions with no answers for me. Why did I experience this? What do I need to do with this?
I have always been one to follow my heart and have been sharing my incredible story when it felt right to do so. I have had so many remarkable experiences with sharing my story. I have come to terms that likely I don’t need to know why or what to do with it. I feel that the story needs to be shared. I trust that feeling, so that is what I do.
The hospice nurse and I went to the same hospital today to admit a new patient to our service. While walking into the hospital and experiencing the familiar environment, memories came flooding back. I have such mixed emotions of amazement, blessings and astonishment. That experience was one of the toughest things I have ever had to go through, but the love and support is what stays with me. It might be what others with Post Traumatic Stress Disease (PTSD) experience, although I feel I have PTBD, (Post Traumatic Blessed Disease).
I feel blessed to have had this experience even with all of the fear and pain. I wouldn’t change a thing. It has changed my life in so many amazing ways. I thank God each and every day for stretching me to a higher awakening.
ALMOST A YEAR
It has been almost a year
since I saw the other side.
Fall was in the air,
when God blessed me with divine.
It’s been an amazing year.
Sharing my story with so many.
Trying to comfort with my experience.
Needing to enlighten and reveal.
I still am trying to process things,
while attempting to stay in the flow.
Sharing the story when my heart directs.
Not knowing what else to do with it all.
I walked those same hospital halls today.
The first time in almost a year.
All the emotions have flooded back;
the amazement; the blessings; the fears.
I am still not sure why I got a small peak;
a glimpse of the other side.
Maybe one day I will understand,
but for now, I will continue to share,
as that’s all that I know,
like I have been doing
for almost a year.
Saturday, October 18, 2014
"I AM DONE"
“Doris”, ninety-four, was widowed six weeks ago after a seventy-three year marriage. Doris suffers from Alzheimer’s Disease. Although forgetful, Doris is still very much aware. The hospice nurse and I met with Doris and her daughter, “Kendra” to open Doris to hospice. Doris has been in a recent decline to where she is only eating bites of food each day. Doris is getting weak and spends most of her days in bed.
Kendra shared that her mother has been depressed for years, but things have exacerbated since her father died. Her father was sick for only a short time before he died. He had been so active in the assisted living community where now just Doris resides. He also had been Doris’s caretaker.
For most of the visit, Doris sat with us at the kitchen table with her eyes closed. She had her head hung down as if she were sleeping. Doris heard every word we said, as with the mention of her husband’s name, she would open her eyes and smile. Doris didn’t talk much, but would always articulate a few words when speaking of her husband.
Kendra cannot completely grieve the loss of her father due to mom’s need for help and attention. Kendra lives about ninety minutes away and stays overnight every Monday to help out. Kendra has hired twenty-four hour attendant care to be with Doris.
Kendra is trying to be supportive for Doris, but is struggling with her mother’s decline so close to her father’s death. It is a double hit for Kendra. Kendra puts on a good face for her mother, but her tears do show easily when talking about her father. Fortunately, Kendra has a lot of support from her own family and co-workers. Hospice also has wonderful support to help Kendra and her mother with their individual grief and feelings of loss. I only hope that both Kendra and Doris find their much needed peace.
“I AM DONE”
Her parents were the perfect pair.
Soul mates from the start.
Dad is whom mom lived for;
but now he is gone.
She has always had some depression;
but it was he who kept her strong.
Now she has given up on life,
“I am done.”
She isn’t eating much at all.
She is losing lots of weight.
She spends most days in bed.
“Why can’t I just die?”
Their pain is still raw and deep
as it has only been six weeks.
Mom has given up on life;
while she is trying to just hold on.
Mom’s face shows no emotion;
while her tears easily flow.
She pats mom’s hand in understanding.
She wants to do the right thing;
until
she is done.
Kendra shared that her mother has been depressed for years, but things have exacerbated since her father died. Her father was sick for only a short time before he died. He had been so active in the assisted living community where now just Doris resides. He also had been Doris’s caretaker.
For most of the visit, Doris sat with us at the kitchen table with her eyes closed. She had her head hung down as if she were sleeping. Doris heard every word we said, as with the mention of her husband’s name, she would open her eyes and smile. Doris didn’t talk much, but would always articulate a few words when speaking of her husband.
Kendra cannot completely grieve the loss of her father due to mom’s need for help and attention. Kendra lives about ninety minutes away and stays overnight every Monday to help out. Kendra has hired twenty-four hour attendant care to be with Doris.
Kendra is trying to be supportive for Doris, but is struggling with her mother’s decline so close to her father’s death. It is a double hit for Kendra. Kendra puts on a good face for her mother, but her tears do show easily when talking about her father. Fortunately, Kendra has a lot of support from her own family and co-workers. Hospice also has wonderful support to help Kendra and her mother with their individual grief and feelings of loss. I only hope that both Kendra and Doris find their much needed peace.
“I AM DONE”
Her parents were the perfect pair.
Soul mates from the start.
Dad is whom mom lived for;
but now he is gone.
She has always had some depression;
but it was he who kept her strong.
Now she has given up on life,
“I am done.”
She isn’t eating much at all.
She is losing lots of weight.
She spends most days in bed.
“Why can’t I just die?”
Their pain is still raw and deep
as it has only been six weeks.
Mom has given up on life;
while she is trying to just hold on.
Mom’s face shows no emotion;
while her tears easily flow.
She pats mom’s hand in understanding.
She wants to do the right thing;
until
she is done.
Saturday, October 11, 2014
MEMORIES
Eighty-four year old, “Eddie” suffers from end-stage cardiac disease. Eddie is married to “Victoria”, his wife of sixty years. Eddie and Victoria met when Eddie and his family moved into the neighborhood. Victoria and Eddie were eighteen and twenty-two years old; respectively. Eddie’s family invited Victoria and her family over for cake and coffee. All the family members went except for Victoria as she had been previously invited to a baby shower.
The next day, Eddie showed up at her door with cake and coffee. She was smitten and the two began dating from that day on. Eddie and Victoria moved into their current home over fifty years ago. The home is full of so many mementos and photos. Every spot is covered with old photos of generations of family members. Mixed in between are souvenirs from fishing trips and other vacations.
Eddie and Victoria have two adult sons. The two boys live on the same property in separate houses. Both boys are available as needed to help their mother care for their father. Eddie has declined rapidly these past few months to where he now is bedridden and needing assistance with all of his needs. Victoria, too, has a heart condition and is on oxygen. Her sons are able to help her with any lifting that is needed as well as being available so Victoria can run errands and do the grocery shopping.
When the nurse and I first entered the home, Victoria shed some tears when talking about Eddie dying. She knows it won’t be long as he is eating very little and is so weak. Her face will shift from sadness quickly if you ask her about Eddie’s life. She will light up, sit for a minute, and share several stories. She is so proud of him. It is quite obvious how much she loves him.
When the nurse asked Eddie if he would like a hospital bed, he replied, “No, I want my mate by my side.” Eddie’s only concern is Victoria and Victoria’s only concern is Eddie. They both have been doing something right for sixty years. They are an inspiration. I wish them well.
MEMORIES
Their home is full of memories.
Keepsakes of days now past.
Numerous yellowed photographs;
generations of smiling faces.
She had so many stories to share
of their sixty years as man and wife.
How they met when he moved nearby.
Properties touching by the back fence.
His decline has been swift.
She struggles to let him go.
She’ll tear up knowing it won’t be long.
“The years have gone way too fast”.
Her face lights up when asked about him.
She’ll sit quietly for a moment or two,
then share a story about him, adding,
“He’s such a nice man.”
If you ask him about his worries;
he’ll immediately mention her.
For himself, he says he’s doing okay.
“I’m eighty-four years old.
Nothing scares me.”
The next day, Eddie showed up at her door with cake and coffee. She was smitten and the two began dating from that day on. Eddie and Victoria moved into their current home over fifty years ago. The home is full of so many mementos and photos. Every spot is covered with old photos of generations of family members. Mixed in between are souvenirs from fishing trips and other vacations.
Eddie and Victoria have two adult sons. The two boys live on the same property in separate houses. Both boys are available as needed to help their mother care for their father. Eddie has declined rapidly these past few months to where he now is bedridden and needing assistance with all of his needs. Victoria, too, has a heart condition and is on oxygen. Her sons are able to help her with any lifting that is needed as well as being available so Victoria can run errands and do the grocery shopping.
When the nurse and I first entered the home, Victoria shed some tears when talking about Eddie dying. She knows it won’t be long as he is eating very little and is so weak. Her face will shift from sadness quickly if you ask her about Eddie’s life. She will light up, sit for a minute, and share several stories. She is so proud of him. It is quite obvious how much she loves him.
When the nurse asked Eddie if he would like a hospital bed, he replied, “No, I want my mate by my side.” Eddie’s only concern is Victoria and Victoria’s only concern is Eddie. They both have been doing something right for sixty years. They are an inspiration. I wish them well.
MEMORIES
Their home is full of memories.
Keepsakes of days now past.
Numerous yellowed photographs;
generations of smiling faces.
She had so many stories to share
of their sixty years as man and wife.
How they met when he moved nearby.
Properties touching by the back fence.
His decline has been swift.
She struggles to let him go.
She’ll tear up knowing it won’t be long.
“The years have gone way too fast”.
Her face lights up when asked about him.
She’ll sit quietly for a moment or two,
then share a story about him, adding,
“He’s such a nice man.”
If you ask him about his worries;
he’ll immediately mention her.
For himself, he says he’s doing okay.
“I’m eighty-four years old.
Nothing scares me.”
Saturday, October 4, 2014
CHECKERS
Ninety-seven year old “Olive” suffers from end stage cardiac disease. She has been widowed for years and had been living alone until recently when she moved in with her son and his family. Olive needs help during her day. She uses a walker to get around.
I went out to shadow our chaplain during her visit today. Before the visit, the chaplain told me about Olive and how she loves to play checkers. The chaplain plays three to four games with each weekly visit. Her goal is to get Olive to open up spiritually if and when she needs to do so.
Olive had me from the moment I walked into her home. She had us all laughing with her delightful sense of humor. She will laugh so easily. She loves to tease and just laughs so much harder if you tease her back.
Olive couldn’t wait for the chaplain to set up the checker board. As usual, Olive won all three games. She is so good at Checkers, her family won’t play with her. Olive’s nine year old grandson was visiting. He says he plays with Granny. He added that he wins some of the times.
Olive has so much spunk and energy, I would have guessed her age fifteen years younger than her nine-seven years. She is a gem and a role model for all of us in how to fully enjoy life. There isn’t much that can get her down. Way to go Olive!!!!
CHECKERS
She loves to play checkers.
She’ll beat you most every time.
She laughs when she’s jumps your man,
but equally giggles when you jump hers.
She’ll share life stories while she plays.
Reminiscing about the olden days.
Telling us about when they bought their first home.
The down payment, not money, but an old Packard they owned.
She has a great sense of humor.
Laughing at how she’s going to tease her son.
Knowing he will phone tonight.
Looking forward to his nightly call.
She doesn’t look or act her age.
If one guesses, they likely would be wrong.
She has so much life and energy.
Her mind is as sharp as they come.
She’ll continue to laugh; to share her life.
She’ll continue to play her game.
“Well come on, set up the checker board”,
just like she has for almost all of her
ninety-seven years.
I went out to shadow our chaplain during her visit today. Before the visit, the chaplain told me about Olive and how she loves to play checkers. The chaplain plays three to four games with each weekly visit. Her goal is to get Olive to open up spiritually if and when she needs to do so.
Olive had me from the moment I walked into her home. She had us all laughing with her delightful sense of humor. She will laugh so easily. She loves to tease and just laughs so much harder if you tease her back.
Olive couldn’t wait for the chaplain to set up the checker board. As usual, Olive won all three games. She is so good at Checkers, her family won’t play with her. Olive’s nine year old grandson was visiting. He says he plays with Granny. He added that he wins some of the times.
Olive has so much spunk and energy, I would have guessed her age fifteen years younger than her nine-seven years. She is a gem and a role model for all of us in how to fully enjoy life. There isn’t much that can get her down. Way to go Olive!!!!
CHECKERS
She loves to play checkers.
She’ll beat you most every time.
She laughs when she’s jumps your man,
but equally giggles when you jump hers.
She’ll share life stories while she plays.
Reminiscing about the olden days.
Telling us about when they bought their first home.
The down payment, not money, but an old Packard they owned.
She has a great sense of humor.
Laughing at how she’s going to tease her son.
Knowing he will phone tonight.
Looking forward to his nightly call.
She doesn’t look or act her age.
If one guesses, they likely would be wrong.
She has so much life and energy.
Her mind is as sharp as they come.
She’ll continue to laugh; to share her life.
She’ll continue to play her game.
“Well come on, set up the checker board”,
just like she has for almost all of her
ninety-seven years.
Saturday, September 27, 2014
RESIGNED
Sixty-six year old, “Diane” suffers from colon cancer that has spread to her bones. Diane is divorced and had been living in Connecticut, where she grew up. Her only family is her brother, “Hank”, who lives in California. Diane moved to California several months ago to be near her brother, who is her primary support.
Diane has moved into a Residential Care Facility, which offers the twenty-four care that she needs. Shortly after Diane moved to California, she broke her hip. The cancer has spread to her bones, making them weak. Diane went through some physical therapy and was slowly getting stronger. A few weeks ago, she took a fall and fractured her left arm. Since that time, Diane spends her days in a wheelchair.
Meeting with Diane for the first time today, she had us laughing so easily with her wit and sarcastic humor. She is so easy going and accepting of what is happening to her. She has had so many dramatic changes these past few months. Diane just takes things in stride. She doesn’t look at what she has lost, but what she has.
Diane and Hank have a wonderful, close relationship. They spoke about what a small family they are and how special each is to the other. One can easily see it through their interaction with each other.
Diane easily spoke about her dying and her wishes to donate her body to science. Things were so matter-of-fact to her. Diane accepts each challenge that comes her way with such grace. She is an amazing role model to us all.
RESIGNED
She has resigned herself to her fate.
She’s adjusted to all the changes.
She is realistic about how things are;
knowing she’s in a decline.
Moving from one coast to the other.
Leaving behind her friends and her home.
Needing to be closer to her brother.
She takes it all in stride.
Her bones are weakened from the cancer.
She’s fractured her hip and now her arm;
both limiting her abilities profoundly.
Dependent upon so many throughout her days.
She talks quite openly about the changes.
She knows things are only to get worse.
She has no fears and just goes along;
wanting you to do the same.
She has always used humor to cope.
She’ll tease; she’ll laugh; she’ll share a joke.
“This is just the way things are.”
Looking forward to one more day.
Diane has moved into a Residential Care Facility, which offers the twenty-four care that she needs. Shortly after Diane moved to California, she broke her hip. The cancer has spread to her bones, making them weak. Diane went through some physical therapy and was slowly getting stronger. A few weeks ago, she took a fall and fractured her left arm. Since that time, Diane spends her days in a wheelchair.
Meeting with Diane for the first time today, she had us laughing so easily with her wit and sarcastic humor. She is so easy going and accepting of what is happening to her. She has had so many dramatic changes these past few months. Diane just takes things in stride. She doesn’t look at what she has lost, but what she has.
Diane and Hank have a wonderful, close relationship. They spoke about what a small family they are and how special each is to the other. One can easily see it through their interaction with each other.
Diane easily spoke about her dying and her wishes to donate her body to science. Things were so matter-of-fact to her. Diane accepts each challenge that comes her way with such grace. She is an amazing role model to us all.
RESIGNED
She has resigned herself to her fate.
She’s adjusted to all the changes.
She is realistic about how things are;
knowing she’s in a decline.
Moving from one coast to the other.
Leaving behind her friends and her home.
Needing to be closer to her brother.
She takes it all in stride.
Her bones are weakened from the cancer.
She’s fractured her hip and now her arm;
both limiting her abilities profoundly.
Dependent upon so many throughout her days.
She talks quite openly about the changes.
She knows things are only to get worse.
She has no fears and just goes along;
wanting you to do the same.
She has always used humor to cope.
She’ll tease; she’ll laugh; she’ll share a joke.
“This is just the way things are.”
Looking forward to one more day.
Saturday, September 20, 2014
PAIN
“Randy”, fifty-eight, suffers from lung cancer. His cancer has now spread to his bones causing him tremendous pain. Randy lives with his sister, “Pamela” , who is his primary caretaker. Randy’s brother, “Bill”, lives nearby and is also very involved. The three siblings are very close and supportive to each other.
Randy’s pain started to increase several days ago. Pamela called his doctor, who changed the medication, to no avail. Randy’s pain continued to where he was not sleeping at night, keeping Pamela up as well. All were so tired and frustrated. Pamela felt so guilty not being able to do anything for her brother. She was frustrated by his doctor as the changes in the medication was not helping. Things were getting worse. Pamela then called hospice for help.
Fortunately the nurse was able to go out the same day Pamela called. Being new at the hospice, I was able to shadow the nurse during the visit. One immediately saw Randy’s suffering and pain by the tight grimace on his face. Pamela’s face reflected her brother’s stressful expression.
The nurse immediately called the hospice medical director and got orders for higher dosages of medications. Before too long, Randy’s pain subsided. Randy initially gave his pain level a “10”, the highest ranking number. By the time we left the home, Randy’s pain was down to a tolerable “2”. Randy was able to close his eyes and sleep for the first time in several days.
Pamela’s face also reflected relief and calm. Pamela couldn’t thank us enough for being there and giving her and her family the support they needed. As the nurse and I walked out to her car, Randy’s brother called out in thanks again. We encouraged the family to call hospice with any other pain changes or questions. It is a good feeling to give a family exactly what they need. Kudos to the hospice nurse and doctor.
PAIN
He has been in pain for days.
Long waits for the doctors to call.
Tweaking medications with no relief.
They were desperate as to what to do.
One saw his discomfort
by the tight grimace on his face.
Sitting stiffly in his recliner;
clutched fists by his side.
The nurse immediately called the doctor.
She helped to readily adjust the meds.
Quickly upping the dosages.
Hoping to ease his tremendous pain.
She hated to see her brother in pain.
“This has been going on for days.”
Her helplessness; her stress
clearly showing in the tightness of her face.
His pain started to decline.
He felt relief for the first time in days.
His face relaxed as he slowly fell asleep.
His sister’s face now reflecting his own.
They thanked us as we walked to the car.
Knowing his suffering will be no more.
A good night sleep for the first time in days.
Grateful for all that the nurse had done,
“I didn’t know an angel drove a tan SUV”.
Randy’s pain started to increase several days ago. Pamela called his doctor, who changed the medication, to no avail. Randy’s pain continued to where he was not sleeping at night, keeping Pamela up as well. All were so tired and frustrated. Pamela felt so guilty not being able to do anything for her brother. She was frustrated by his doctor as the changes in the medication was not helping. Things were getting worse. Pamela then called hospice for help.
Fortunately the nurse was able to go out the same day Pamela called. Being new at the hospice, I was able to shadow the nurse during the visit. One immediately saw Randy’s suffering and pain by the tight grimace on his face. Pamela’s face reflected her brother’s stressful expression.
The nurse immediately called the hospice medical director and got orders for higher dosages of medications. Before too long, Randy’s pain subsided. Randy initially gave his pain level a “10”, the highest ranking number. By the time we left the home, Randy’s pain was down to a tolerable “2”. Randy was able to close his eyes and sleep for the first time in several days.
Pamela’s face also reflected relief and calm. Pamela couldn’t thank us enough for being there and giving her and her family the support they needed. As the nurse and I walked out to her car, Randy’s brother called out in thanks again. We encouraged the family to call hospice with any other pain changes or questions. It is a good feeling to give a family exactly what they need. Kudos to the hospice nurse and doctor.
PAIN
He has been in pain for days.
Long waits for the doctors to call.
Tweaking medications with no relief.
They were desperate as to what to do.
One saw his discomfort
by the tight grimace on his face.
Sitting stiffly in his recliner;
clutched fists by his side.
The nurse immediately called the doctor.
She helped to readily adjust the meds.
Quickly upping the dosages.
Hoping to ease his tremendous pain.
She hated to see her brother in pain.
“This has been going on for days.”
Her helplessness; her stress
clearly showing in the tightness of her face.
His pain started to decline.
He felt relief for the first time in days.
His face relaxed as he slowly fell asleep.
His sister’s face now reflecting his own.
They thanked us as we walked to the car.
Knowing his suffering will be no more.
A good night sleep for the first time in days.
Grateful for all that the nurse had done,
“I didn’t know an angel drove a tan SUV”.
Saturday, September 13, 2014
"TIL WE MEET AGAIN"
Today was my last day doing hospice visits as tomorrow I will be leaving my job after twenty-four years. I wanted to see three particular patients on this last day. Not because they needed anything from me, but I wanted to let them know how each has touched me with their positive attitudes. Saying goodbye will be the difficult part.
All three count their blessings with a positive spin. That attitude helps everyone around. “Yvonne”, ninety-two, suffers from cardiac disease. She is bedridden and unable to manage any of her needs. Between visits from her large, extended family, she watches her favorite television shows. She does not complain, but will tear up when talking about how blessed she is with such a wonderful family.
“Buddy”, seventy-four, has bile duct cancer. He told me today that he is having more bad days than good. Buddy talked about having no appetite and how much he misses his favorite foods. He will state factually what he has lost, but puts it all “in God’s hands.” His faith is that strong. He, too, has a large, extended, supportive family. He so appreciates any visits by his family, friends or hospice workers. Buddy will light up when someone walks into his home.
“Kevin”, eighty-six, suffers from stomach cancer. He has been in a long, slow decline. He twists everything around and makes jokes about his situation. He doesn’t have fears about dying, although has no belief about afterlife. He is always in a positive mood no matter what.
All three have taught me that attitude is everything. All three have these amazing, supportive families. I told them that their families being around says a lot about their family members, but it also reflects them. I truly believe in Karma. I shared how they each have touched me individually. All three share the same legacy; their unconditional love for mankind.
Next week, I start my new position in another hospice much closer to my home. I know I will continue to be honored doing this work by meeting so many more amazing people who effortlessly share their lives and stories. What a blessing each of them are to all of us.
“TIL WE MEET AGAIN”
I wanted to see each of them,
knowing it was my last time.
I wanted to share how each moved me
in their own and special way.
I spoke about their legacy.
How we will all remember them well.
Their positive spirits; their beautiful souls.
Leaving exceptional footprints as they passed our way.
All three unconditionally count their blessings.
Not in possessions or the jewelry they wear,
but in family; in friends; in relationships.
Teaching all of us what truly matters each day.
It was so hard to say goodbye.
A word sounding much too harsh; too final.
Although both knowing it was coming,
still needing to soften the blow.
People come into our lives for a purpose.
If only for a moment, we can be changed.
I hugged each of them and then walked away;
believing that maybe there will be a time
“Til we meet again.”
All three count their blessings with a positive spin. That attitude helps everyone around. “Yvonne”, ninety-two, suffers from cardiac disease. She is bedridden and unable to manage any of her needs. Between visits from her large, extended family, she watches her favorite television shows. She does not complain, but will tear up when talking about how blessed she is with such a wonderful family.
“Buddy”, seventy-four, has bile duct cancer. He told me today that he is having more bad days than good. Buddy talked about having no appetite and how much he misses his favorite foods. He will state factually what he has lost, but puts it all “in God’s hands.” His faith is that strong. He, too, has a large, extended, supportive family. He so appreciates any visits by his family, friends or hospice workers. Buddy will light up when someone walks into his home.
“Kevin”, eighty-six, suffers from stomach cancer. He has been in a long, slow decline. He twists everything around and makes jokes about his situation. He doesn’t have fears about dying, although has no belief about afterlife. He is always in a positive mood no matter what.
All three have taught me that attitude is everything. All three have these amazing, supportive families. I told them that their families being around says a lot about their family members, but it also reflects them. I truly believe in Karma. I shared how they each have touched me individually. All three share the same legacy; their unconditional love for mankind.
Next week, I start my new position in another hospice much closer to my home. I know I will continue to be honored doing this work by meeting so many more amazing people who effortlessly share their lives and stories. What a blessing each of them are to all of us.
“TIL WE MEET AGAIN”
I wanted to see each of them,
knowing it was my last time.
I wanted to share how each moved me
in their own and special way.
I spoke about their legacy.
How we will all remember them well.
Their positive spirits; their beautiful souls.
Leaving exceptional footprints as they passed our way.
All three unconditionally count their blessings.
Not in possessions or the jewelry they wear,
but in family; in friends; in relationships.
Teaching all of us what truly matters each day.
It was so hard to say goodbye.
A word sounding much too harsh; too final.
Although both knowing it was coming,
still needing to soften the blow.
People come into our lives for a purpose.
If only for a moment, we can be changed.
I hugged each of them and then walked away;
believing that maybe there will be a time
“Til we meet again.”
Saturday, September 6, 2014
HE CRIED
Eighty-six year old “John” has been on hospice for about three months. John suffers from lung cancer, but is still fairly independent. John is divorced and lives alone. His daughter, “Debbie”, lives nearby and is devoted to her dad. Debbie will move in when John’s needs get to where he cannot be alone.
I have visited John about five times. He is an amazing man by his generosity to others. He sees life as a gift and does not complain about his predicament. He has no fears about dying. He says he doesn’t know what death is all about, but it will be what it will be.
John cares so much about others. He volunteers at a local food bank and feels honored to be able to do so. When his niece was sixteen, he had her move in with him as she was having troubles at home. She stayed with him for six years until she finished college. John gives so much to others, saying it makes him feel good to be able to do so.
I wrote a poem about John and his generosity. So often, when a situation or person touches my heart, the words just flow out so easily. I feel that oftentimes I am just the typist. After I wrote John’s poem, I proofread it and started to cry. It reflected John’s life so clearly and I felt I was able to express how beautiful a soul he is.
During my visit with John today, I brought the poem with me and read it to him. He had tears when he came over and gave me this huge hug. He was so moved and couldn’t wait to share it with his daughter. He thanked me and said it is something he will never forget.
About an hour after I left John’s home, he left me a voice message saying he was out on his porch reading the poem. He was crying so hard, he could barely get the words out. I called him back and said that I didn’t mean to make him cry. He said it was a good cry and thanked me again. I also do not have the words to thank him for the gift he gave me today. Thank you doesn’t seem to fully capture the emotions, but that is the only words I know. I only hope, that John, in receiving my gift, knows that he gave me as much as I gave him today.
HE CRIED
I write about my patients;
their families and their lives.
When special moments touch my heart,
the words just naturally flow.
I wrote a poem about him.
I wrote how he touched my soul.
Reading the poem after I was done,
it rang so true; I cried.
I brought the poem to give to him.
I read the words from my heart.
He got up and hugged me so tight,
while gentle tears began to show.
He read the poem after I left.
He called me on the phone.
He couldn’t find the words to thank me,
saying the poem had touched him so.
He thanked me for being a
“big part of a small part of his life.”
He said he will never forget me;
and then
he cried.
I have visited John about five times. He is an amazing man by his generosity to others. He sees life as a gift and does not complain about his predicament. He has no fears about dying. He says he doesn’t know what death is all about, but it will be what it will be.
John cares so much about others. He volunteers at a local food bank and feels honored to be able to do so. When his niece was sixteen, he had her move in with him as she was having troubles at home. She stayed with him for six years until she finished college. John gives so much to others, saying it makes him feel good to be able to do so.
I wrote a poem about John and his generosity. So often, when a situation or person touches my heart, the words just flow out so easily. I feel that oftentimes I am just the typist. After I wrote John’s poem, I proofread it and started to cry. It reflected John’s life so clearly and I felt I was able to express how beautiful a soul he is.
During my visit with John today, I brought the poem with me and read it to him. He had tears when he came over and gave me this huge hug. He was so moved and couldn’t wait to share it with his daughter. He thanked me and said it is something he will never forget.
About an hour after I left John’s home, he left me a voice message saying he was out on his porch reading the poem. He was crying so hard, he could barely get the words out. I called him back and said that I didn’t mean to make him cry. He said it was a good cry and thanked me again. I also do not have the words to thank him for the gift he gave me today. Thank you doesn’t seem to fully capture the emotions, but that is the only words I know. I only hope, that John, in receiving my gift, knows that he gave me as much as I gave him today.
HE CRIED
I write about my patients;
their families and their lives.
When special moments touch my heart,
the words just naturally flow.
I wrote a poem about him.
I wrote how he touched my soul.
Reading the poem after I was done,
it rang so true; I cried.
I brought the poem to give to him.
I read the words from my heart.
He got up and hugged me so tight,
while gentle tears began to show.
He read the poem after I left.
He called me on the phone.
He couldn’t find the words to thank me,
saying the poem had touched him so.
He thanked me for being a
“big part of a small part of his life.”
He said he will never forget me;
and then
he cried.
Sunday, August 31, 2014
HOW MUCH?
I saw two patients today that have very similar lives. “Bud” is ninety-five and has been living in an Assisted Living Center for three years. Bud is blind and gets around, with help, in his wheelchair. Bud suffers from dementia, which limits his short-term memory. He has strong memories of being a pastor. His two daughters, who visit frequently and are devoted to their father, say that he worked until well into his eighties.
Bud shared today how much he missed preaching. One of his favorite sermons involved three castles. He could not elaborate any further. Bud was able to share that his strong Christian faith helps him through his days. Bud talks just a few words and then stops in the middle of his sentences. He gets short of breath so easily and has to pause often. He then will continue with the rest of the sentence.
I automatically spoke to Bud in a soothing voice as feel that even if one doesn’t understand the conversation, there is no mistaking a supportive tone or a gentle touch. I hope he felt supported by my presence.
After the visit, I drove to visit “Alice” who resides in a Skilled Nursing Facility. Alice ninety-four, also suffers from dementia. Quite often when I visit Alice, she is sitting in the lounge area in her wheelchair listening to music. She will rock and bob to the music enjoying herself immensely. Alice doesn’t talk at all, but communicates loudly with body language.
Alice is in a decline to where she is weaker and sleeping a lot more. I did a joint visit today with the hospice nurse. Alice was in a deep sleep. While the nurse was examining her, I massaged her head as Alice does not like to be touched. I was hoping to comfort her. Alice opened her eyes for a few minutes and then quietly fell back asleep.
Seeing these two patients today made me think about how much do they really know and understand. It might be a blessing not knowing at all. I cannot even imagine how it would be not to have any say or control in one’s life.
They may not understand our words, but I hope Bud and Alice both felt the care and love we hoped to give to them today.
HOW MUCH?
The two have a lot in common;
living well over ninety years.
Both residing in a care home
needing help with all their needs.
Confusion is a daily companion.
Conversation; a thing of the past.
He can still relay a few thoughts,
while she doesn’t say much at all.
How much do they understand?
How much do they really know?
One sees some sadness in their eyes,
but are we reading them totally wrong?
He had been a minister,
preaching sermons to the masses.
She worked in the school lunch room,
serving meals to a hungry crowd.
It’s up to us to share their stories
so their legacy can live on.
She nourished student’s physical bodies,
while he fed a multitude of souls.
Do they know they made a difference here?
Do they know they aren’t alone?
Do they feel our love, our tender touch?
I hope and pray somehow they do.
Bud shared today how much he missed preaching. One of his favorite sermons involved three castles. He could not elaborate any further. Bud was able to share that his strong Christian faith helps him through his days. Bud talks just a few words and then stops in the middle of his sentences. He gets short of breath so easily and has to pause often. He then will continue with the rest of the sentence.
I automatically spoke to Bud in a soothing voice as feel that even if one doesn’t understand the conversation, there is no mistaking a supportive tone or a gentle touch. I hope he felt supported by my presence.
After the visit, I drove to visit “Alice” who resides in a Skilled Nursing Facility. Alice ninety-four, also suffers from dementia. Quite often when I visit Alice, she is sitting in the lounge area in her wheelchair listening to music. She will rock and bob to the music enjoying herself immensely. Alice doesn’t talk at all, but communicates loudly with body language.
Alice is in a decline to where she is weaker and sleeping a lot more. I did a joint visit today with the hospice nurse. Alice was in a deep sleep. While the nurse was examining her, I massaged her head as Alice does not like to be touched. I was hoping to comfort her. Alice opened her eyes for a few minutes and then quietly fell back asleep.
Seeing these two patients today made me think about how much do they really know and understand. It might be a blessing not knowing at all. I cannot even imagine how it would be not to have any say or control in one’s life.
They may not understand our words, but I hope Bud and Alice both felt the care and love we hoped to give to them today.
HOW MUCH?
The two have a lot in common;
living well over ninety years.
Both residing in a care home
needing help with all their needs.
Confusion is a daily companion.
Conversation; a thing of the past.
He can still relay a few thoughts,
while she doesn’t say much at all.
How much do they understand?
How much do they really know?
One sees some sadness in their eyes,
but are we reading them totally wrong?
He had been a minister,
preaching sermons to the masses.
She worked in the school lunch room,
serving meals to a hungry crowd.
It’s up to us to share their stories
so their legacy can live on.
She nourished student’s physical bodies,
while he fed a multitude of souls.
Do they know they made a difference here?
Do they know they aren’t alone?
Do they feel our love, our tender touch?
I hope and pray somehow they do.
Saturday, August 23, 2014
COUNTING BLESSINGS
Seventy-four year old “Ben” suffers from bile duct cancer. Ben has been divorced twice. He has six children from those two marriages. Only two of Ben’s children live locally, but all deeply care for their father and are supportive as able due to geographic distances.
Ben lives with “Monica”, who is one of his daughter’s best friends. Several years ago, Monica needed a place to live and Ben offered a room in his home. Monica is twenty-five years younger than Ben and looks to him as a “father-figure”. Monica is now Ben’s primary caretaker.
It works out well for all as Ben’s children so appreciate Monica’s devotion to their father. The two children, who live nearby, come on the weekends, giving Monica some down time. It is a perfect solution for a difficult situation.
Ben and Monica live in a rough part of town. Their home is a bit run down, but it doesn’t bother either of them at all. Ben is such a positive person and looks on the bright side of things. He so appreciates all that he has in his life. He doesn’t count his possessions, but his family and friends are what he cherishes the most.
When I was visiting today, he so thanked me for coming. He appreciates all who visit him; family, friends and hospice staff. Ben was telling me that the past four days have been rough and he did not feel well and spent the time in bed. He said he was very weak and just wanted to sleep. Today he was feeling much better and was able to be up and about.
Bad days don’t get him down as he knows his cancer is winning. He can still find joy in his days though. He is amazing as he knows the important things in life are not what we have, but who we have. By those standards, Ben is a millionaire. I admire his insight and know he will continue to teach us all the true value in life.
COUNTING BLESSINGS
The first thing one notices
are four rundown cars in the drive.
Flat tires, dirty windows, dents.
A long time since driven on the road.
He greets you at the front door
in worn out pants; a tee shirt full of holes.
He directs you to sit in the darkened room
on furniture comfortable, but worn.
These things are all easily over-shadowed
by his amazing, welcoming smile.
He treats you like he does his friends;
a special guest into his home.
He is so glad you are there.
He lights up as you sit down.
He wants to share his stories about his life;
the countless blessings that he has.
He’ll talk about his family and his friends.
He’ll share his strong faith in God.
He is so thankful for all those he loves.
Not much can get him down.
His cancer, though, is taking a toll.
He has more bad days now than good.
I don’t doubt that he’ll continue
to look on the bright side,
appreciating what he has;
counting his blessings,
forevermore.
Ben lives with “Monica”, who is one of his daughter’s best friends. Several years ago, Monica needed a place to live and Ben offered a room in his home. Monica is twenty-five years younger than Ben and looks to him as a “father-figure”. Monica is now Ben’s primary caretaker.
It works out well for all as Ben’s children so appreciate Monica’s devotion to their father. The two children, who live nearby, come on the weekends, giving Monica some down time. It is a perfect solution for a difficult situation.
Ben and Monica live in a rough part of town. Their home is a bit run down, but it doesn’t bother either of them at all. Ben is such a positive person and looks on the bright side of things. He so appreciates all that he has in his life. He doesn’t count his possessions, but his family and friends are what he cherishes the most.
When I was visiting today, he so thanked me for coming. He appreciates all who visit him; family, friends and hospice staff. Ben was telling me that the past four days have been rough and he did not feel well and spent the time in bed. He said he was very weak and just wanted to sleep. Today he was feeling much better and was able to be up and about.
Bad days don’t get him down as he knows his cancer is winning. He can still find joy in his days though. He is amazing as he knows the important things in life are not what we have, but who we have. By those standards, Ben is a millionaire. I admire his insight and know he will continue to teach us all the true value in life.
COUNTING BLESSINGS
The first thing one notices
are four rundown cars in the drive.
Flat tires, dirty windows, dents.
A long time since driven on the road.
He greets you at the front door
in worn out pants; a tee shirt full of holes.
He directs you to sit in the darkened room
on furniture comfortable, but worn.
These things are all easily over-shadowed
by his amazing, welcoming smile.
He treats you like he does his friends;
a special guest into his home.
He is so glad you are there.
He lights up as you sit down.
He wants to share his stories about his life;
the countless blessings that he has.
He’ll talk about his family and his friends.
He’ll share his strong faith in God.
He is so thankful for all those he loves.
Not much can get him down.
His cancer, though, is taking a toll.
He has more bad days now than good.
I don’t doubt that he’ll continue
to look on the bright side,
appreciating what he has;
counting his blessings,
forevermore.
Saturday, August 16, 2014
GOODBYE
I have worked for the same medical center for twenty-four years. A wonderful opportunity has come my way. I have accepted a social work position in a small hospice near my home. Currently, at the end of my day, I am at least an hour drive from my home. That, and the fact that there is an opportunity for part time in the future, is what makes this new job so appealing.
When offered the position, I quickly accepted. It feels so right and the job just flowed my way without effort. I wasn’t looking for a new job, but during the entire process, I just went with the flow to see how it was to play out. I felt that if it is meant to be, it will happen.
I notified my managers and co-workers two weeks ago of my decision. Co-workers are all commenting on how different things will be. I assured them that they all will be just fine. We are like a family in hospice and I tell them it is like I am leaving home. I will still be in touch, but, yes, it will be different.
Now that I have only two weeks remaining in my old job, I have started to say goodbye to my patients and families. In addition, more and more co-workers are coming up to me and commenting on the change. I am saying goodbye to so many, which makes me sad. It is a huge loss after working for one company for so many years.
During a visit today, I was telling the patient and his daughter about my decision. I was telling them goodbye and realized that the patient is also saying goodbye to his family, his friends and his life. His grief and future are a much stronger and permanent change. What I am experiencing is only temporary, although the grief and feelings of loss touch my heart deeply.
I am surprised at how hard this is for me. I have such mixed emotions of excitement and sadness. What sustains me is knowing how right this decision is for me at this time in my life. I pray for peace for all of my patients and families. I hope they all will be fine as I know I will be.
GOODBYE
Now that time is getting close,
I didn’t think it would be this hard.
Saying goodbye to so many;
families, patients, co-workers.
I am grieving what I am leaving;
but excited about what’s next.
The opportunity flowed without effort.
It feels so right; it is meant to be.
My patients also are saying goodbye;
to family, to friends, to life.
They, too, are grieving what they are leaving.
Facing an unknown in their future.
I don’t even begin to compare
my level of grief with theirs.
But then, life is full of losses.
We all seem to get our fair share.
I will move on smoothly,
while they face a tougher road.
Grief has so many layers,
but then it always involves
painfully saying
Goodbye.
When offered the position, I quickly accepted. It feels so right and the job just flowed my way without effort. I wasn’t looking for a new job, but during the entire process, I just went with the flow to see how it was to play out. I felt that if it is meant to be, it will happen.
I notified my managers and co-workers two weeks ago of my decision. Co-workers are all commenting on how different things will be. I assured them that they all will be just fine. We are like a family in hospice and I tell them it is like I am leaving home. I will still be in touch, but, yes, it will be different.
Now that I have only two weeks remaining in my old job, I have started to say goodbye to my patients and families. In addition, more and more co-workers are coming up to me and commenting on the change. I am saying goodbye to so many, which makes me sad. It is a huge loss after working for one company for so many years.
During a visit today, I was telling the patient and his daughter about my decision. I was telling them goodbye and realized that the patient is also saying goodbye to his family, his friends and his life. His grief and future are a much stronger and permanent change. What I am experiencing is only temporary, although the grief and feelings of loss touch my heart deeply.
I am surprised at how hard this is for me. I have such mixed emotions of excitement and sadness. What sustains me is knowing how right this decision is for me at this time in my life. I pray for peace for all of my patients and families. I hope they all will be fine as I know I will be.
GOODBYE
Now that time is getting close,
I didn’t think it would be this hard.
Saying goodbye to so many;
families, patients, co-workers.
I am grieving what I am leaving;
but excited about what’s next.
The opportunity flowed without effort.
It feels so right; it is meant to be.
My patients also are saying goodbye;
to family, to friends, to life.
They, too, are grieving what they are leaving.
Facing an unknown in their future.
I don’t even begin to compare
my level of grief with theirs.
But then, life is full of losses.
We all seem to get our fair share.
I will move on smoothly,
while they face a tougher road.
Grief has so many layers,
but then it always involves
painfully saying
Goodbye.
Saturday, August 9, 2014
LIKE MY DAD
Jim, a very young eighty-eight year old, suffers from lung cancer. Jim has been on hospice for about six weeks, although is doing quite well. Jim lives alone and is very capable. He had just gotten home from volunteering at a food bank serving breakfast to the homeless, when I arrived for our scheduled visit.
Jim is married to “Lois”. It is a second marriage for both of them. Jim and Lois had been dating for twenty years prior to getting married four years ago. Jim said they tried living together, but it didn’t work out well. Lois lives nearby and is very involved in Jim’s life. The two love each other deeply and this arrangement serves them both quite well.
On my previous visits, Lois and Jim’s daughter were visiting. Today it was just Jim and me. Jim started talking about his volunteer work. His stories evolved into other humanistic activities that he participates in. Jim is very generous with his time and really cares about fellow human beings.
Jim reminds me so much of my own dad. Coincidently, my dad’s name was also Jim. Additionally, Jim is not only built like my father, their personalities are also very similar. My father died ten years ago and I miss him every day. My father gave me unconditional love. I tell folks, “He believed I walked on water, and I know he did.”
During the course of our visit, Jim asked me if I wanted to take a walk. We took a fifteen minute walk through a park near his home. I have never taken a walk with a patient, but immediately said yes when Jim asked me if I wanted to do so. Most of the walk was on a asphalt trail, but on the parts where it was uneven and rocky, Jim gently took a hold of my hand. It was such a natural gesture.
He started talking about his family and situations where he has helped out when someone was in need. Jim gives of his time which is tremendous. He gives from his heart; his presence.
I had so many reminders of my own father with Jim. My dad occasionally called me “Sweetheart” and when Jim did so today, it felt so amazing. I still miss my dad each and every day. I am so appreciative that there are many “Jims” out there making this world a much better place.
LIKE MY DAD
He is tall and slender.
His heart is as big as they come.
His name is Jim.
Like my dad.
He brings me tender memories.
Reminders of the days long past.
Kindness, generosity, thoughtfulness.
Like my dad.
We took a short walk through the park.
He sharing stories of his travels; his family.
Gently reaching for my hand for support
when the terrain became uneven; slippery.
It felt so natural; him and me.
Walking side by side sharing stories;
about love;
about life;
about him.
We said goodbye at his front door.
“Thank you for coming; for listening to me.
Have a good day, Sweetheart”.
It was magical; beautiful;
just like my dad.
Jim is married to “Lois”. It is a second marriage for both of them. Jim and Lois had been dating for twenty years prior to getting married four years ago. Jim said they tried living together, but it didn’t work out well. Lois lives nearby and is very involved in Jim’s life. The two love each other deeply and this arrangement serves them both quite well.
On my previous visits, Lois and Jim’s daughter were visiting. Today it was just Jim and me. Jim started talking about his volunteer work. His stories evolved into other humanistic activities that he participates in. Jim is very generous with his time and really cares about fellow human beings.
Jim reminds me so much of my own dad. Coincidently, my dad’s name was also Jim. Additionally, Jim is not only built like my father, their personalities are also very similar. My father died ten years ago and I miss him every day. My father gave me unconditional love. I tell folks, “He believed I walked on water, and I know he did.”
During the course of our visit, Jim asked me if I wanted to take a walk. We took a fifteen minute walk through a park near his home. I have never taken a walk with a patient, but immediately said yes when Jim asked me if I wanted to do so. Most of the walk was on a asphalt trail, but on the parts where it was uneven and rocky, Jim gently took a hold of my hand. It was such a natural gesture.
He started talking about his family and situations where he has helped out when someone was in need. Jim gives of his time which is tremendous. He gives from his heart; his presence.
I had so many reminders of my own father with Jim. My dad occasionally called me “Sweetheart” and when Jim did so today, it felt so amazing. I still miss my dad each and every day. I am so appreciative that there are many “Jims” out there making this world a much better place.
LIKE MY DAD
He is tall and slender.
His heart is as big as they come.
His name is Jim.
Like my dad.
He brings me tender memories.
Reminders of the days long past.
Kindness, generosity, thoughtfulness.
Like my dad.
We took a short walk through the park.
He sharing stories of his travels; his family.
Gently reaching for my hand for support
when the terrain became uneven; slippery.
It felt so natural; him and me.
Walking side by side sharing stories;
about love;
about life;
about him.
We said goodbye at his front door.
“Thank you for coming; for listening to me.
Have a good day, Sweetheart”.
It was magical; beautiful;
just like my dad.
Saturday, August 2, 2014
CONNECTIONS
“Hannah”, seventy years old, suffers from breast cancer. A month ago she was told her cancer has spread to her spine and abdomen. Hannah has declined so rapidly these past four weeks to where she is no longer eating. She is bedridden because of tremendous weakness.
Hannah lives with her husband, “Brian”. The two have been married thirty-eight years. Their son, “Jeff”, lives nearby with his wife and young daughter. Jeff’s wife is twenty-four weeks pregnant with their second child.
Brian answered the door to their small apartment to let me in. This was my first time meeting the family as the nurse had just opened them to hospice the day before. Brian has lots of energy and quickly walked me into the bedroom where Hannah was lying down. Hannah took my hand to say hi and immediately I felt this strong connection to her.
I sensed that Hannah felt it too as she would not let go of my hand. It was like she needed something to hold onto to help ground her. A few moments later, Jeff arrived. One could tell he and his mother have a very strong bond. The family used humor to cope and immediately we all were laughing.
I started to talk about the grieving process mentioning that anger can be a normal reaction to loss. Brian immediately started sharing his frustration and anger. He said that he and Hannah chose to have no friends as all they needed were each other. Brian shared that they both were introverts and that worked well for them all these years.
Brian and I went out to the living room where I was helping him with some paperwork. When we finished up with the paperwork, I needed Hannah to sign a form and walked back into her bedroom. It was then that Hannah and I spoke about have this strong connection to each other. Our two lives have so many similarities and coincidences it was uncanny. We both agreed that we are kindred spirits. I told Hannah, “We were meant to meet.”
Hannah is struggling with her grief as this change has been so rapid and is so recent. She is questioning why and trying to find some purpose in it all. I am feeling a sense of loss as Hannah likely will die within a week or two. Hopefully then, she will find the answers to her many questions. Ironically, I will miss her.
ADDENDUM: Hannah died four days later with her husband at her side holding her hand. This world has lost a beautiful soul. I wish her peace.
CONNECTIONS
The connection was instant.
Two hands united as one.
I knew her for always,
but had just walked in.
We had so much in common;
heritage, culture, beliefs.
No explanation ever necessary,
we knew from whence we came.
Lifetimes of living,
our roads had surely crossed.
She with so many losses to explore,
“I wish I had a girlfriend like you.”
She is questioning, asking why?
No clear answer to give.
She is grieving the loss of her life,
I grieve what could have been.
Somehow we were meant to meet.
If only for a moment this time.
Strong connections between two souls.
Until we meet again.
Hannah lives with her husband, “Brian”. The two have been married thirty-eight years. Their son, “Jeff”, lives nearby with his wife and young daughter. Jeff’s wife is twenty-four weeks pregnant with their second child.
Brian answered the door to their small apartment to let me in. This was my first time meeting the family as the nurse had just opened them to hospice the day before. Brian has lots of energy and quickly walked me into the bedroom where Hannah was lying down. Hannah took my hand to say hi and immediately I felt this strong connection to her.
I sensed that Hannah felt it too as she would not let go of my hand. It was like she needed something to hold onto to help ground her. A few moments later, Jeff arrived. One could tell he and his mother have a very strong bond. The family used humor to cope and immediately we all were laughing.
I started to talk about the grieving process mentioning that anger can be a normal reaction to loss. Brian immediately started sharing his frustration and anger. He said that he and Hannah chose to have no friends as all they needed were each other. Brian shared that they both were introverts and that worked well for them all these years.
Brian and I went out to the living room where I was helping him with some paperwork. When we finished up with the paperwork, I needed Hannah to sign a form and walked back into her bedroom. It was then that Hannah and I spoke about have this strong connection to each other. Our two lives have so many similarities and coincidences it was uncanny. We both agreed that we are kindred spirits. I told Hannah, “We were meant to meet.”
Hannah is struggling with her grief as this change has been so rapid and is so recent. She is questioning why and trying to find some purpose in it all. I am feeling a sense of loss as Hannah likely will die within a week or two. Hopefully then, she will find the answers to her many questions. Ironically, I will miss her.
ADDENDUM: Hannah died four days later with her husband at her side holding her hand. This world has lost a beautiful soul. I wish her peace.
CONNECTIONS
The connection was instant.
Two hands united as one.
I knew her for always,
but had just walked in.
We had so much in common;
heritage, culture, beliefs.
No explanation ever necessary,
we knew from whence we came.
Lifetimes of living,
our roads had surely crossed.
She with so many losses to explore,
“I wish I had a girlfriend like you.”
She is questioning, asking why?
No clear answer to give.
She is grieving the loss of her life,
I grieve what could have been.
Somehow we were meant to meet.
If only for a moment this time.
Strong connections between two souls.
Until we meet again.
Monday, July 28, 2014
ONE LITTLE THING
“Ward”, eighty-seven was only on hospice for one day. Ward suffered from leukemia and his decline was swift. I called the home and spoke with Ward’s wife, “Nina”, about scheduling a visit. Being a Friday, she asked that I call her early next week as her family were all coming into town. She added that she felt Ward was nearing the end of his life. She denied any current need and we agreed that I would call her after the weekend.
Ward died later that same evening with all of his family around. After the weekend, when I spoke with Nina, it was to offer condolences. Nina said she was doing just fine as she has a very supportive, close-knit family. She did say that there was one thing that I could do for her. She said she was getting so stressed over all the paperwork that needs to be completed.
Ward’s memorial was only two days away and she was told by the mortuary that they cannot release a body without a death certificate signed by the patient’s doctor. I made a quick phone call and was informed that the certificate would be ready later this afternoon. I called Nina back and informed her of what I was told. I shared that it is all done electronically and the funeral home should have the paperwork by day’s end.
Nina could not thank me enough. She was so grateful. It made me stop and think about the profoundness of little things. It doesn’t take much to make a phone call or say thank you. Both of us were grateful for the other doing “one little thing.”
ONE LITTLE THING
His decline was swift.
Not much time to adjust.
Family quickly rallied and were together,
when he took his final breath.
I called to offer condolences.
To let her know that she’s not alone.
To avail herself to our bereavement support;
counseling, phone calls, mailings, groups.
She said she and the family were doing okay.
She knows they will be just fine.
Her only stressor is all the paperwork,
if I could help with one little thing.
She felt overwhelmed by all the details.
Her emotions were running raw.
I made the phone call to ease her mind.
It didn’t seem much at the time.
She was so grateful and said,
“You did me a big favor today.
I can take a nap now and really sleep.
Thank you so much for helping me”.
It was my pleasure to help her out.
A few moments of my time.
A simple phone call to me was huge for her.
Both feeling grateful because of
one little thing.
Ward died later that same evening with all of his family around. After the weekend, when I spoke with Nina, it was to offer condolences. Nina said she was doing just fine as she has a very supportive, close-knit family. She did say that there was one thing that I could do for her. She said she was getting so stressed over all the paperwork that needs to be completed.
Ward’s memorial was only two days away and she was told by the mortuary that they cannot release a body without a death certificate signed by the patient’s doctor. I made a quick phone call and was informed that the certificate would be ready later this afternoon. I called Nina back and informed her of what I was told. I shared that it is all done electronically and the funeral home should have the paperwork by day’s end.
Nina could not thank me enough. She was so grateful. It made me stop and think about the profoundness of little things. It doesn’t take much to make a phone call or say thank you. Both of us were grateful for the other doing “one little thing.”
ONE LITTLE THING
His decline was swift.
Not much time to adjust.
Family quickly rallied and were together,
when he took his final breath.
I called to offer condolences.
To let her know that she’s not alone.
To avail herself to our bereavement support;
counseling, phone calls, mailings, groups.
She said she and the family were doing okay.
She knows they will be just fine.
Her only stressor is all the paperwork,
if I could help with one little thing.
She felt overwhelmed by all the details.
Her emotions were running raw.
I made the phone call to ease her mind.
It didn’t seem much at the time.
She was so grateful and said,
“You did me a big favor today.
I can take a nap now and really sleep.
Thank you so much for helping me”.
It was my pleasure to help her out.
A few moments of my time.
A simple phone call to me was huge for her.
Both feeling grateful because of
one little thing.
Saturday, July 19, 2014
ANGRY
Eighty-two year old “Orrin” suffers from end stage lung disease. Orrin is on continuous oxygen and has been getting weaker and weaker by the week. Orrin lives with his wife of thirty-seven years, “Donna”. Donna and Orrin have three children between them. Unfortunately, all of the children live in the Midwest and unable to help out.
Each time I made a visit, Orrin would greet me with this wonderful smile. He would welcome me into his home and state how glad he was that I was there. He was a charmer and so enjoyed company.
It is quite obvious how much Orrin and Donna love each other. Within moments of meeting the two of them, one notices how much they care for the other with their words and thoughtfulness. Their marriage is also based on truth and trust. They are both brutally honest with each other. During those honest conversations, oftentimes their anger rises up.
Orrin started to decline quickly to where he was total care. He was bedridden and not sleeping at night. Donna was getting exhausted and tried hiring attendant care and using hospice’s respite and volunteer support. Because of her lack of sleep, those plans were not effective. Donna decided to place Orrin in a nearby Board and Care home. Donna felt guilty, but knew she had no choice. I told her that what Orrin needs most from her is for her to be his wife. By placing him in a board and care home, she can focus on giving him the love only a wife can give.
Donna didn’t inform Orrin of her plans until the gurney transport was at the front door. Orrin was furious and felt betrayed and abandoned by Donna. Donna visited Orrin daily, but he continued to be angry and depressed.
I made a visit to see Orrin to give him support. He continued to be angry and felt abandoned. The following morning, as I was walking into the hospice office, I noticed a copper penny right by the front door. I picked it up and wondered who had died and was telling me that they were okay. Several minutes later, I heard that Orrin had died two hours before.
I have experienced and heard so many stories about copper pennies being a vessel from the other side letting us know they are okay. Somehow it makes sense and I believe that the penny was a message from Orrin telling me he was okay. I pray he has found his peace.
ANGRY
He had the sweetest smile.
He could charm you with his words.
He loved having company.
He loved his wife even more.
Her patience was quickly getting depleted
as she was drained and wearing out.
She had to get some sleep,
but there was no one else to help.
She could not keep up the demanding pace
so she arranged for him to go to a facility.
She didn’t tell him of her plans,
until the transport was at the front door.
He believed she didn’t love him any longer.
He felt abandoned and betrayed.
He’d lash out to those nearby adding,
“I’m angry at the world!”
My last visit was hard for him.
His smile replaced by a scowl.
His charm replaced by swear words.
So many regrets were holding him down.
I found a penny this morning.
Hard not to notice, lying by the hospice front door.
I wondered who was leaving a message.
Then moments later, learned he had died.
I’d like to think he was telling us
that he is fine and doing well.
No more doubt about his wife’s love for him.
His charm and smile forevermore around.
Each time I made a visit, Orrin would greet me with this wonderful smile. He would welcome me into his home and state how glad he was that I was there. He was a charmer and so enjoyed company.
It is quite obvious how much Orrin and Donna love each other. Within moments of meeting the two of them, one notices how much they care for the other with their words and thoughtfulness. Their marriage is also based on truth and trust. They are both brutally honest with each other. During those honest conversations, oftentimes their anger rises up.
Orrin started to decline quickly to where he was total care. He was bedridden and not sleeping at night. Donna was getting exhausted and tried hiring attendant care and using hospice’s respite and volunteer support. Because of her lack of sleep, those plans were not effective. Donna decided to place Orrin in a nearby Board and Care home. Donna felt guilty, but knew she had no choice. I told her that what Orrin needs most from her is for her to be his wife. By placing him in a board and care home, she can focus on giving him the love only a wife can give.
Donna didn’t inform Orrin of her plans until the gurney transport was at the front door. Orrin was furious and felt betrayed and abandoned by Donna. Donna visited Orrin daily, but he continued to be angry and depressed.
I made a visit to see Orrin to give him support. He continued to be angry and felt abandoned. The following morning, as I was walking into the hospice office, I noticed a copper penny right by the front door. I picked it up and wondered who had died and was telling me that they were okay. Several minutes later, I heard that Orrin had died two hours before.
I have experienced and heard so many stories about copper pennies being a vessel from the other side letting us know they are okay. Somehow it makes sense and I believe that the penny was a message from Orrin telling me he was okay. I pray he has found his peace.
ANGRY
He had the sweetest smile.
He could charm you with his words.
He loved having company.
He loved his wife even more.
Her patience was quickly getting depleted
as she was drained and wearing out.
She had to get some sleep,
but there was no one else to help.
She could not keep up the demanding pace
so she arranged for him to go to a facility.
She didn’t tell him of her plans,
until the transport was at the front door.
He believed she didn’t love him any longer.
He felt abandoned and betrayed.
He’d lash out to those nearby adding,
“I’m angry at the world!”
My last visit was hard for him.
His smile replaced by a scowl.
His charm replaced by swear words.
So many regrets were holding him down.
I found a penny this morning.
Hard not to notice, lying by the hospice front door.
I wondered who was leaving a message.
Then moments later, learned he had died.
I’d like to think he was telling us
that he is fine and doing well.
No more doubt about his wife’s love for him.
His charm and smile forevermore around.
Saturday, July 12, 2014
DYING
“Paul”, seventy-nine, suffers from end stage lung disease. Paul is widowed and lives alone in a mobile home park. Paul has one daughter, “Terry”, who lives nearby. The plan is for Paul to move in with Terry when he is no longer able to live alone.
Paul is still able to manage all of his needs without help. Paul chooses not to drive any longer because of the strong medication he is taking. Paul has several good neighbors who will help him whenever he needs them. Paul is pretty stubborn and it is that stubbornness that is keeping him going each day.
Terry calls her dad daily to check in. Terry wants to help him in any way she can, but Paul is resistant to reach out to her or anyone. Paul has a strong, independent personality. Likely it is that determination that is keeping him going as well.
Paul feels guilty that dying is taking so long as he feels Terry has put her life on hold for him. He knows that Terry and her husband want to move to be near her husband’s family in Australia.
Paul states he has had a good life with no regrets or unfinished business. He is ready to go. He feels he is just waiting around to die. I told Paul that he is living as much as each and everyone of us. We are all living until we breathe our last breath. I hope Paul can find his peace and find some joy in the days he has left.
DYING
He’s known to be quite stubborn.
Always wanting to be in charge.
He’d be thankful for a sudden heart attack.
“Let’s get this dying over with”.
His daughter wants to help him out.
She calls daily to check in.
He says he doesn’t need the help.
He tells her that he’s doing okay.
He says she’s stubborn and bosses him around.
She gives him lots of advice.
I say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Conversations sometimes end in a fight.
He feels she’s put her life on hold for him.
She’s made plans after he is gone.
He feels guilty making her wait,
“Dying is taking way too long.”
He’s in a slow decline,
but still able to easily get around.
With his daughter on his mind, he will sadly say,
I didn’t think dying would be this hard.”
Paul is still able to manage all of his needs without help. Paul chooses not to drive any longer because of the strong medication he is taking. Paul has several good neighbors who will help him whenever he needs them. Paul is pretty stubborn and it is that stubbornness that is keeping him going each day.
Terry calls her dad daily to check in. Terry wants to help him in any way she can, but Paul is resistant to reach out to her or anyone. Paul has a strong, independent personality. Likely it is that determination that is keeping him going as well.
Paul feels guilty that dying is taking so long as he feels Terry has put her life on hold for him. He knows that Terry and her husband want to move to be near her husband’s family in Australia.
Paul states he has had a good life with no regrets or unfinished business. He is ready to go. He feels he is just waiting around to die. I told Paul that he is living as much as each and everyone of us. We are all living until we breathe our last breath. I hope Paul can find his peace and find some joy in the days he has left.
DYING
He’s known to be quite stubborn.
Always wanting to be in charge.
He’d be thankful for a sudden heart attack.
“Let’s get this dying over with”.
His daughter wants to help him out.
She calls daily to check in.
He says he doesn’t need the help.
He tells her that he’s doing okay.
He says she’s stubborn and bosses him around.
She gives him lots of advice.
I say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Conversations sometimes end in a fight.
He feels she’s put her life on hold for him.
She’s made plans after he is gone.
He feels guilty making her wait,
“Dying is taking way too long.”
He’s in a slow decline,
but still able to easily get around.
With his daughter on his mind, he will sadly say,
I didn’t think dying would be this hard.”
Saturday, July 5, 2014
A WEEK
Eighty-six year old, “Mona”, suffers from melanoma that has spread to her bones. Mona lives with “Sonny”, her husband of sixty-six years. Five months ago, Mona was told that her cancer had spread. It was a rough week for the family, as three days prior, Sonny suffered a stroke.
Over the course of these past five months, Sonny has improved to where he is able to walk around without any devices and manage his own needs. Mona had been doing well for all of this time as well. Between the two of them, they easily managed most of their needs. Mona and Sonny have four adult children; although only two live nearby. Their daughter, “Debra”, has moved in to take care of them. Debra works as a school teacher, but typically can be home by mid afternoon. The family has hired help as well so that Mona and Sonny are only alone a few hours each day.
The two of them had been managing quite well until this past week. Mona wanted to live until Sonny’s 90th birthday, which was five days ago. All of the family were able to attend the party which made quite a crowd. Mona spent most of the day in bed as she was not feeling well. Mona said that relatives would sit by her bedside throughout the day. She said it tired her out even more.
Mona would like to set another goal in the future to have something to look forward to, although spoke of how difficult this past week has been for her. She has never had the fear of dying, but still is not ready to go. With these new changes and decline, the reality of what is going on is starting to set in. Mona is getting tired, but not yet ready to let go. I only hope for her to be able to make it to her next goal.
ADDENDUM: Mona died peacefully 3 weeks later with her family at the bedside.
A WEEK
She had been in a slow decline,
but still able to easily get around.
Her goal was to enjoy his 90th birthday.
That day has now come and gone.
This week has been a rough one for her.
She’s nauseas and doesn’t want to eat.
She is weak more often now.
She’s spending more time in bed.
She wants to look forward to an outing,
but those days are becoming less and less.
Things are changing so quickly now.
Her quality of life is fading fast.
She has no fear of dying,
but isn’t ready for it to come.
She has always been such a social person.
She’s isn’t ready to let go.
She has always faced life head on.
Not surprisingly, she’s handling this the same.
The reality of her decline is setting in.
“This week has been
one bad day.”
Over the course of these past five months, Sonny has improved to where he is able to walk around without any devices and manage his own needs. Mona had been doing well for all of this time as well. Between the two of them, they easily managed most of their needs. Mona and Sonny have four adult children; although only two live nearby. Their daughter, “Debra”, has moved in to take care of them. Debra works as a school teacher, but typically can be home by mid afternoon. The family has hired help as well so that Mona and Sonny are only alone a few hours each day.
The two of them had been managing quite well until this past week. Mona wanted to live until Sonny’s 90th birthday, which was five days ago. All of the family were able to attend the party which made quite a crowd. Mona spent most of the day in bed as she was not feeling well. Mona said that relatives would sit by her bedside throughout the day. She said it tired her out even more.
Mona would like to set another goal in the future to have something to look forward to, although spoke of how difficult this past week has been for her. She has never had the fear of dying, but still is not ready to go. With these new changes and decline, the reality of what is going on is starting to set in. Mona is getting tired, but not yet ready to let go. I only hope for her to be able to make it to her next goal.
ADDENDUM: Mona died peacefully 3 weeks later with her family at the bedside.
A WEEK
She had been in a slow decline,
but still able to easily get around.
Her goal was to enjoy his 90th birthday.
That day has now come and gone.
This week has been a rough one for her.
She’s nauseas and doesn’t want to eat.
She is weak more often now.
She’s spending more time in bed.
She wants to look forward to an outing,
but those days are becoming less and less.
Things are changing so quickly now.
Her quality of life is fading fast.
She has no fear of dying,
but isn’t ready for it to come.
She has always been such a social person.
She’s isn’t ready to let go.
She has always faced life head on.
Not surprisingly, she’s handling this the same.
The reality of her decline is setting in.
“This week has been
one bad day.”
Saturday, June 28, 2014
"GO IN PEACE"
“Eddie”, ninety-three, was just admitted to hospice two weeks ago. Eddie suffered from prostate cancer and had been slowly declining these past months. He was bedridden, confused and needed assistance with all of his needs. Eddie has been married to “Joyce” for twenty-six years. Sadly, Joyce suffers from Alzheimer’s Disease and needs total care herself.
Both Joyce and Eddie have children from previous marriages. Joyce’s daughter, “Suzanne” is very involved and supportive to the couple. Suzanne hired, “Connie”, three months ago when she saw Eddie’s decline. Connie lives-in and is devoted to Eddie and Joyce. She is tender and so gentle with the two of them. It is so obvious that Connie loves taking care of others.
During my visit this afternoon, Connie, Suzanne and I got in a very spiritual discussion about afterlife and their strong Christian beliefs. Eddie’s hospital bed was a few feet away. One could hear his labored breathing. Suzanne shared stories about Eddie as well as stories about loved ones she has lost in her life.
Suzanne shared memories of how many of her deceased relatives have come to her in dreams. She added that it gives her peace knowing that they are doing okay. She talked about heaven and when it is our time, we will just go.
During this conversation, I wondered if Eddie was hearing what we were talking about. I shared with Connie and Suzanne that it takes no energy to listen or to feel. As I was leaving, I stopped and said some final words to Eddie, giving him permission to go when he is ready.
Thirty minutes later, Suzanne called and told me that Eddie died a few minutes after we both left. She said it happened so perfectly. She was at peace, knowing that Eddie too, is at peace.
“GO IN PEACE”
He was lying nearby in the hospital bed.
He was in a deep sleep; not responsive.
His breathing was now getting labored.
We knew it wouldn’t be much longer.
We talked about spirituality.
We talked about sacred beliefs.
How her loved ones have come to her before.
Feeling them; seeing them; in her dreams.
It takes no energy to listen or feel.
I wondered if he was listening nearby.
Hearing them say how much they love him.
Feeling sad that his life has now come to this.
As I was leaving, I stopped to gently stroke his head.
I whispered, “If you see the light, it is okay to go.
You will know when it is your time.
Your family will be okay”.
A few minutes later, she decided to leave.
She told him “Go in peace.”
She kissed the top of his head,
then quietly told him goodbye.
Ten minutes later she got the call.
He has taken his last breathe.
Did he hear her final, gentle words?
Hopefully he’ll enlighten her,
tonight,
in her dreams.
Both Joyce and Eddie have children from previous marriages. Joyce’s daughter, “Suzanne” is very involved and supportive to the couple. Suzanne hired, “Connie”, three months ago when she saw Eddie’s decline. Connie lives-in and is devoted to Eddie and Joyce. She is tender and so gentle with the two of them. It is so obvious that Connie loves taking care of others.
During my visit this afternoon, Connie, Suzanne and I got in a very spiritual discussion about afterlife and their strong Christian beliefs. Eddie’s hospital bed was a few feet away. One could hear his labored breathing. Suzanne shared stories about Eddie as well as stories about loved ones she has lost in her life.
Suzanne shared memories of how many of her deceased relatives have come to her in dreams. She added that it gives her peace knowing that they are doing okay. She talked about heaven and when it is our time, we will just go.
During this conversation, I wondered if Eddie was hearing what we were talking about. I shared with Connie and Suzanne that it takes no energy to listen or to feel. As I was leaving, I stopped and said some final words to Eddie, giving him permission to go when he is ready.
Thirty minutes later, Suzanne called and told me that Eddie died a few minutes after we both left. She said it happened so perfectly. She was at peace, knowing that Eddie too, is at peace.
“GO IN PEACE”
He was lying nearby in the hospital bed.
He was in a deep sleep; not responsive.
His breathing was now getting labored.
We knew it wouldn’t be much longer.
We talked about spirituality.
We talked about sacred beliefs.
How her loved ones have come to her before.
Feeling them; seeing them; in her dreams.
It takes no energy to listen or feel.
I wondered if he was listening nearby.
Hearing them say how much they love him.
Feeling sad that his life has now come to this.
As I was leaving, I stopped to gently stroke his head.
I whispered, “If you see the light, it is okay to go.
You will know when it is your time.
Your family will be okay”.
A few minutes later, she decided to leave.
She told him “Go in peace.”
She kissed the top of his head,
then quietly told him goodbye.
Ten minutes later she got the call.
He has taken his last breathe.
Did he hear her final, gentle words?
Hopefully he’ll enlighten her,
tonight,
in her dreams.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
DENIAL
Seventy-five year old, “Donald”, suffers from end-stage cardiac disease. He recently had emergency cardiac surgery, but his life prognosis is terminal. Donald is widowed and six days ago moved into his daughter’s home. His daughter, “Terry” and her husband, “Ken” are taking care of him.
Terry can telecommute from home and is available as needed. Ken is retired and is the primary caretaker for Donald. Both Terry and Ken are devoted to Donald. I first met the family today to open them to hospice. Donald was complaining that the doctors won’t tell him precisely when he will die. He says that they tell him months, which angers him. Donald wants to know the exact date he will die.
Donald is tired of having to watch his fluid intake while being on a low sodium diet. He stated, “I just want a pizza and a mug of beer.” Fortunately, halfway through my visit, the hospice nurse showed up and could address the issues of diet, fluid intake and medications. Donald wants to stop a lot of his medications. He is just tired of how his current life leaves him dependent upon others.
At the end of my visit, Terry and Ken walked me to the door and the three of us spent a few moments talking on the front porch. Ken called me later asking me if the nurse told Donald he had six weeks to live. I assured him that the nurse would not ever say that, as, again, no one can be that precise.
I told Ken to let Donald believe what he needs to believe as it will help him cope and get through the next days. Normally one has denial when they cannot face a terminal diagnosis. Donald is just the opposite, he wants a precise date that is only a few weeks away.
People die the way they live. That is what family members want as they know their loved one is still doing things their way. It is what one knows.
DENIAL
Denial is very powerful,
but handy all the same.
Only taking in what we can handle.
It helps us cope bit by bit.
Many people do get scared
of the reality they are facing.
Focusing on the positive helps
to deal with overwhelming odds.
He is just the opposite.
He wants to know the exact date.
“Don’t tell me weeks or months,
I want the precise time.”
She told him no one can really say.
Some have a gradual decline,
while another’s experience can be quick.
For all, it’s one more day to be alive.
He told his family she said six weeks.
He heard what he needed to hear.
Denial helps him get through each day;
while reality rides quietly alongside.
He may face the truth one day,
but it really doesn’t matter much at all.
He will die the way he lived his life;
the best way he knows how.
Terry can telecommute from home and is available as needed. Ken is retired and is the primary caretaker for Donald. Both Terry and Ken are devoted to Donald. I first met the family today to open them to hospice. Donald was complaining that the doctors won’t tell him precisely when he will die. He says that they tell him months, which angers him. Donald wants to know the exact date he will die.
Donald is tired of having to watch his fluid intake while being on a low sodium diet. He stated, “I just want a pizza and a mug of beer.” Fortunately, halfway through my visit, the hospice nurse showed up and could address the issues of diet, fluid intake and medications. Donald wants to stop a lot of his medications. He is just tired of how his current life leaves him dependent upon others.
At the end of my visit, Terry and Ken walked me to the door and the three of us spent a few moments talking on the front porch. Ken called me later asking me if the nurse told Donald he had six weeks to live. I assured him that the nurse would not ever say that, as, again, no one can be that precise.
I told Ken to let Donald believe what he needs to believe as it will help him cope and get through the next days. Normally one has denial when they cannot face a terminal diagnosis. Donald is just the opposite, he wants a precise date that is only a few weeks away.
People die the way they live. That is what family members want as they know their loved one is still doing things their way. It is what one knows.
DENIAL
Denial is very powerful,
but handy all the same.
Only taking in what we can handle.
It helps us cope bit by bit.
Many people do get scared
of the reality they are facing.
Focusing on the positive helps
to deal with overwhelming odds.
He is just the opposite.
He wants to know the exact date.
“Don’t tell me weeks or months,
I want the precise time.”
She told him no one can really say.
Some have a gradual decline,
while another’s experience can be quick.
For all, it’s one more day to be alive.
He told his family she said six weeks.
He heard what he needed to hear.
Denial helps him get through each day;
while reality rides quietly alongside.
He may face the truth one day,
but it really doesn’t matter much at all.
He will die the way he lived his life;
the best way he knows how.
Saturday, June 14, 2014
"THAT'S ALL THERE IS"
“Jack, eighty-eight, was diagnosed two months ago with bladder cancer that has spread to his pancreas. Jack has no appetite as says he always feels full. He has lost a lot of weight and is very weak. He is aware that his time is limited and handles his terminal diagnosis like he has handled everything else in his life. No worries, no concerns, adding, “We all live, we all die. That’s all there is”.
Jack was divorced years ago. He has one son, “Craig” from that marriage. Craig lives nearby with his wife. Both are very devoted and supportive to Jack. Craig’s fourteen year old son died eight years ago from a congenital disease. Craig says that was the hardest experience in his life. He is on anti-depressants to help him deal with such a huge loss.
Jack lives with his significant other of fifteen years. His S.O., “Melanie” suffers from Parkinson’s disease. Jack has been the one caring for Melanie. Due to his weakness, that task is getting harder for him. The couple has hired an attendant to relieve Jack and to help Melanie.
Jack has no fears about dying saying he has had a good life. He believes that when it is over, it is over. He sees no other options and that is just fine for him. Today was my first visit to meet with him and his son. He graciously welcomed me into his home and then said, “What is it you do? I don’t need anything”, in his typical gruff manner.
Not surprisingly, Jack is handling his dying like he has handled everything else in his life; black or white. He tries to put on a rough façade, but then said that I could come back anytime I wanted. When he isn’t paying attention, that kindness and big heart shines through.
I hope I can support him as he needs. It may be a challenge to truly know what those needs are. I only know it was a pleasure to meet him and his son. He tries so hard not to be gracious and soft, but it slips out quite often.
‘THAT’S ALL THERE IS”
He has always been a simple man.
No complications in his life.
He sees the world as black or white.
No other options for him.
Life is not that complex to him.
He is from the old school of thought.
Work hard and you will succeed.
That philosophy has always worked for him.
He has a gruff exterior.
He wants you to believe he is fine.
Even with that stubbornness and brusqueness,
he still can‘t hide his big, bold heart.
Like all of us, he has had sadness in his life.
Even with his grandson’s death, he will say,
“We all live; we all die.
That’s all there is.”
Those words have usually worked for him,
but you know not so well this one time.
His grandson’s obituary from eight years ago
is still caringly displayed on his refrigerator door.
He’ll continue to be gruff and crusty.
He’ll continue to demand control.
After eighty-eight years, it is hard to change.
He’ll keep telling you that he’s fine,
until
“That’s all there is”.
Jack was divorced years ago. He has one son, “Craig” from that marriage. Craig lives nearby with his wife. Both are very devoted and supportive to Jack. Craig’s fourteen year old son died eight years ago from a congenital disease. Craig says that was the hardest experience in his life. He is on anti-depressants to help him deal with such a huge loss.
Jack lives with his significant other of fifteen years. His S.O., “Melanie” suffers from Parkinson’s disease. Jack has been the one caring for Melanie. Due to his weakness, that task is getting harder for him. The couple has hired an attendant to relieve Jack and to help Melanie.
Jack has no fears about dying saying he has had a good life. He believes that when it is over, it is over. He sees no other options and that is just fine for him. Today was my first visit to meet with him and his son. He graciously welcomed me into his home and then said, “What is it you do? I don’t need anything”, in his typical gruff manner.
Not surprisingly, Jack is handling his dying like he has handled everything else in his life; black or white. He tries to put on a rough façade, but then said that I could come back anytime I wanted. When he isn’t paying attention, that kindness and big heart shines through.
I hope I can support him as he needs. It may be a challenge to truly know what those needs are. I only know it was a pleasure to meet him and his son. He tries so hard not to be gracious and soft, but it slips out quite often.
‘THAT’S ALL THERE IS”
He has always been a simple man.
No complications in his life.
He sees the world as black or white.
No other options for him.
Life is not that complex to him.
He is from the old school of thought.
Work hard and you will succeed.
That philosophy has always worked for him.
He has a gruff exterior.
He wants you to believe he is fine.
Even with that stubbornness and brusqueness,
he still can‘t hide his big, bold heart.
Like all of us, he has had sadness in his life.
Even with his grandson’s death, he will say,
“We all live; we all die.
That’s all there is.”
Those words have usually worked for him,
but you know not so well this one time.
His grandson’s obituary from eight years ago
is still caringly displayed on his refrigerator door.
He’ll continue to be gruff and crusty.
He’ll continue to demand control.
After eighty-eight years, it is hard to change.
He’ll keep telling you that he’s fine,
until
“That’s all there is”.
Saturday, June 7, 2014
SHE BLAMES HERSELF
“Dolly”, seventy years old, suffers from lung cancer that has spread to her bone. Dolly is widowed and had been living alone. Several months ago, she moved in with her eldest son, “Trevor”, because she no longer could care for herself. Dolly has two other children who live within an hour away.
Dolly has a very large, extended family, who all visit and help out. Several months ago, when I first met Dolly and her family, I was amazed at how many were available and willing to help her. Even Dolly’s in-laws are available and help out as needed. This family is devoted to Dolly and to each other. It reflects a lot about Dolly’s family and Dolly herself.
During a routine visit today, Dolly started talking about how her diagnosis of cancer has let everyone down. Prior to being sick, Dolly had been caring for her elderly mother, who suffers from Alzheimer’s. Once Dolly could no longer care for her mother because of her own decline, family placed her in a nearby Skilled Nursing Facility. Fortunately the facility is only a block from Trevor’s home.
Dolly blames herself for not being able to continue to care for her mother. Dolly thought her mother was disappointed in her as she let her down. Once Dolly and I addressed these concerns, she understood the reality of the situation and was able to understand that cancer is a random disease and no one is to blame. Dolly has blamed herself for so much throughout her life, it has to be hard for her to switch gears.
Dolly shared that when she and her sister were twelve, they jumped out from a closet and scared their aunt. She still feels guilty decades later. I asked her what she thought her aunt would tell her today about that, or would her aunt even remember. Dolly shared that her aunt had died years ago.
I hope she is aware of how many things she has done well in her life. Her family is her legacy. So many are devoted and love her. For that she must take full blame. It is how she will be remembered. I will continue to support her and strive to teach her how well she did during this life. I only hope she will hear.
SHE BLAMES HERSELF
She has always been a worrier.
She’s one who never forgets.
She worries about others constantly,
while always blaming herself.
She holds onto her past,
where others have long forgotten.
Childhood pranks of yesteryear
still haunt her today.
She blames herself for getting cancer.
She struggles to find out why.
No longer able to care for her own mother;
somehow she has let everyone down.
Her heart is as big as they come.
That wonderful feeling of helping another.
She feels guilty now for needing assistance.
She hates being a burden to them.
Her children learned well from her.
They saw her always there for one in need.
They are devoted in their care for her.
For only that, I hope she can
continue
to blame herself.
Dolly has a very large, extended family, who all visit and help out. Several months ago, when I first met Dolly and her family, I was amazed at how many were available and willing to help her. Even Dolly’s in-laws are available and help out as needed. This family is devoted to Dolly and to each other. It reflects a lot about Dolly’s family and Dolly herself.
During a routine visit today, Dolly started talking about how her diagnosis of cancer has let everyone down. Prior to being sick, Dolly had been caring for her elderly mother, who suffers from Alzheimer’s. Once Dolly could no longer care for her mother because of her own decline, family placed her in a nearby Skilled Nursing Facility. Fortunately the facility is only a block from Trevor’s home.
Dolly blames herself for not being able to continue to care for her mother. Dolly thought her mother was disappointed in her as she let her down. Once Dolly and I addressed these concerns, she understood the reality of the situation and was able to understand that cancer is a random disease and no one is to blame. Dolly has blamed herself for so much throughout her life, it has to be hard for her to switch gears.
Dolly shared that when she and her sister were twelve, they jumped out from a closet and scared their aunt. She still feels guilty decades later. I asked her what she thought her aunt would tell her today about that, or would her aunt even remember. Dolly shared that her aunt had died years ago.
I hope she is aware of how many things she has done well in her life. Her family is her legacy. So many are devoted and love her. For that she must take full blame. It is how she will be remembered. I will continue to support her and strive to teach her how well she did during this life. I only hope she will hear.
SHE BLAMES HERSELF
She has always been a worrier.
She’s one who never forgets.
She worries about others constantly,
while always blaming herself.
She holds onto her past,
where others have long forgotten.
Childhood pranks of yesteryear
still haunt her today.
She blames herself for getting cancer.
She struggles to find out why.
No longer able to care for her own mother;
somehow she has let everyone down.
Her heart is as big as they come.
That wonderful feeling of helping another.
She feels guilty now for needing assistance.
She hates being a burden to them.
Her children learned well from her.
They saw her always there for one in need.
They are devoted in their care for her.
For only that, I hope she can
continue
to blame herself.
Saturday, May 31, 2014
DRIVE
Fifty-eight year old “Joseph” suffers from liver cancer. He retired two years ago from his job at a janitorial service company. Six weeks later, he was diagnosed with his cancer. Joseph is divorced and had lived alone for years. He has a very strong, independent personality and feels that his family see him as weak as they do not want him to drive. Joseph moved in with his daughter, “Vicky”, and her family three weeks ago as he could no longer live alone. He is getting weaker and is needing more and more help.
Joseph is on strong pain medication which makes him wobbly when he walks. Appropriately his family does not want him to drive. Joseph parks his small pickup truck in this daughter’s driveway. Several times he has snuck out to drive to a nearby grocery store. Nothing can sway Joseph to realize the risk he is taking with himself and others.
Eighty-two year old “Marie, suffers from lung cancer. Marie is widowed and lives with her fifty-one year old mentally disabled son, “Ben”. Ben is high functioning, but needs constant supervision. Marie’s only other family is a son who lives in Australia. Marie has a very close friend, “Roberta”, who lives nearby and is “family” to Marie and Ben.
When it gets to the point where Marie can no longer be alone, Roberta will care for her full time. Roberta also plans on becoming the guardian to Ben and will move permanently into Marie’s home. Marie had a birthday two months ago. Marie said that is when she stopped driving as feared she could not pass the driving test. She hates asking her friends to drive her around, but felt she had no other choice.
“George”, ninety-one, moved into an Assisted Living Center two months ago. George suffers from colon cancer. George’s wife died one year ago. George said it was soon after that he was diagnosed. George says he is ready to go as had a good life. He shared a lot of stories about he and his wife’s travels all over the world.
George has two daughters, both out of the area. One daughter, “Janet”, lives in a nearby state, and handles all of his business and legal issues. Another daughter, “Debbie” lives a few hours north and can be “pushy and bossy” per George. George says he had been driving less and less over the past few months. He was thinking that it wasn’t going to be long before he had to sell his car and give up driving altogether. It was about that time Debbie visited and demanded that her father give up his driver’s license. He went along as knew it was probably close to the time he would have made that choice himself, but resents her intrusion.
All three stories are a bit different, but the end result is the same. Throughout life, we all suffer losses and limitations that are easy to adapt to as it involves a minor adjustment most often. Driving is huge for anyone and a tremendous loss.
DRIVE
Joseph has always loved to drive.
To just head out on a whim.
Independent, free, adventuresome.
But not now, with family hovering nearby.
Marie drove until her last birthday.
She knew she couldn’t pass the driving test.
With a disabled son, she needs to get around.
Now resigned; asking friends for help.
George had been driving less and less for months.
He knew time was near to sell his car.
His daughter demanded he no longer drive.
Some resentment still hangs around.
A driver’s license gives autonomy.
Getting from one place to another with ease.
It has to be so difficult to give it up.
Another reminder, of yet, one more loss.
One thinks he can still drive,
but the medication is way too strong.
Facing reality, she made a tough choice.
Another resents that the decision was made for him.
No matter what the reason,
driving represents freedom, independence.
Turning in one’s license
symbolizes the start
of so many more losses
that are yet to come.
Joseph is on strong pain medication which makes him wobbly when he walks. Appropriately his family does not want him to drive. Joseph parks his small pickup truck in this daughter’s driveway. Several times he has snuck out to drive to a nearby grocery store. Nothing can sway Joseph to realize the risk he is taking with himself and others.
Eighty-two year old “Marie, suffers from lung cancer. Marie is widowed and lives with her fifty-one year old mentally disabled son, “Ben”. Ben is high functioning, but needs constant supervision. Marie’s only other family is a son who lives in Australia. Marie has a very close friend, “Roberta”, who lives nearby and is “family” to Marie and Ben.
When it gets to the point where Marie can no longer be alone, Roberta will care for her full time. Roberta also plans on becoming the guardian to Ben and will move permanently into Marie’s home. Marie had a birthday two months ago. Marie said that is when she stopped driving as feared she could not pass the driving test. She hates asking her friends to drive her around, but felt she had no other choice.
“George”, ninety-one, moved into an Assisted Living Center two months ago. George suffers from colon cancer. George’s wife died one year ago. George said it was soon after that he was diagnosed. George says he is ready to go as had a good life. He shared a lot of stories about he and his wife’s travels all over the world.
George has two daughters, both out of the area. One daughter, “Janet”, lives in a nearby state, and handles all of his business and legal issues. Another daughter, “Debbie” lives a few hours north and can be “pushy and bossy” per George. George says he had been driving less and less over the past few months. He was thinking that it wasn’t going to be long before he had to sell his car and give up driving altogether. It was about that time Debbie visited and demanded that her father give up his driver’s license. He went along as knew it was probably close to the time he would have made that choice himself, but resents her intrusion.
All three stories are a bit different, but the end result is the same. Throughout life, we all suffer losses and limitations that are easy to adapt to as it involves a minor adjustment most often. Driving is huge for anyone and a tremendous loss.
DRIVE
Joseph has always loved to drive.
To just head out on a whim.
Independent, free, adventuresome.
But not now, with family hovering nearby.
Marie drove until her last birthday.
She knew she couldn’t pass the driving test.
With a disabled son, she needs to get around.
Now resigned; asking friends for help.
George had been driving less and less for months.
He knew time was near to sell his car.
His daughter demanded he no longer drive.
Some resentment still hangs around.
A driver’s license gives autonomy.
Getting from one place to another with ease.
It has to be so difficult to give it up.
Another reminder, of yet, one more loss.
One thinks he can still drive,
but the medication is way too strong.
Facing reality, she made a tough choice.
Another resents that the decision was made for him.
No matter what the reason,
driving represents freedom, independence.
Turning in one’s license
symbolizes the start
of so many more losses
that are yet to come.
Saturday, May 24, 2014
A PUPPY KNOWS
Seventy-six year old “Virginia” suffers from lung cancer that has spread to her brain. Virginia has been widowed for eleven years. She lives alone with “Benji”, her thirteen year old puppy. Benji was two when he was given to Virginia by a family member who could not keep him.
Virginia and Benji have always been close. It is like Benji knows she saved him. I first met Benji and Virginia two weeks ago when Virginia’s health took a rapid decline. Benji is a small white terrier. He will greet visitors and then return to his bed in the living room to nap.
Virginia needs constant care now. Her son, “Lenny” has come from Oregon to stay with his mom. Lenny is the family caregiver. He has helped multiple, elderly family members through bouts of illness and death. He has a huge heart and wouldn’t have it any other way. His sister, “Cassandra” lives locally and is over every day as well.
Four days ago, Virginia stopped eating and drinking. It appears she is imminent. Since that time, Cassandra is sleeping over and not leaving as wants to help her brother with mom’s care. The two children are devoted to Virginia. It melts one’s heart to see the tenderness they both give to their mother.
I did a visit today and Virginia was in a deep sleep. Benji was sleeping on the bed next to her. It is like Benji knows that his master is failing. Somehow one can see it in his eyes. Cassandra was sharing how they are considering putting Benji down as it might be too hard on him, with his failing health and age, to deal with moving to a new home without Virginia around.
Dogs seem to have a a natural understanding about death. When it is time, then it is okay. My thought is that if Benji could talk, he would want to be cremated and buried with his master. Dogs are that devoted. Heaven is perfection and for Virginia, I wouldn’t be surprised if her perfection included Benji. Hopefully one day, we will all know.
A PUPPY KNOWS
He was a rescue dog.
They’ve been together for years.
It has always been the two of them.
You’ll seldom find one without the other.
It seems he’s aware things have changed.
It’s like he knows her time is short.
He seldom will leave her side now.
Sleeping next to her in the hospital bed.
They know he will miss her.
It will be hard on him with her gone.
He will wait for her by the front window.
It will break their hearts to see him yearn.
He‘s getting older and slowing down.
He‘s not as active as he once was.
He’s been sick this past year as well.
The loss of her may be too much for him.
He only knows she has always been there.
They want to do the right thing for him.
They are planning on putting him down
so the two of them,
for eternity,
will never be
one without the other.
Virginia and Benji have always been close. It is like Benji knows she saved him. I first met Benji and Virginia two weeks ago when Virginia’s health took a rapid decline. Benji is a small white terrier. He will greet visitors and then return to his bed in the living room to nap.
Virginia needs constant care now. Her son, “Lenny” has come from Oregon to stay with his mom. Lenny is the family caregiver. He has helped multiple, elderly family members through bouts of illness and death. He has a huge heart and wouldn’t have it any other way. His sister, “Cassandra” lives locally and is over every day as well.
Four days ago, Virginia stopped eating and drinking. It appears she is imminent. Since that time, Cassandra is sleeping over and not leaving as wants to help her brother with mom’s care. The two children are devoted to Virginia. It melts one’s heart to see the tenderness they both give to their mother.
I did a visit today and Virginia was in a deep sleep. Benji was sleeping on the bed next to her. It is like Benji knows that his master is failing. Somehow one can see it in his eyes. Cassandra was sharing how they are considering putting Benji down as it might be too hard on him, with his failing health and age, to deal with moving to a new home without Virginia around.
Dogs seem to have a a natural understanding about death. When it is time, then it is okay. My thought is that if Benji could talk, he would want to be cremated and buried with his master. Dogs are that devoted. Heaven is perfection and for Virginia, I wouldn’t be surprised if her perfection included Benji. Hopefully one day, we will all know.
A PUPPY KNOWS
He was a rescue dog.
They’ve been together for years.
It has always been the two of them.
You’ll seldom find one without the other.
It seems he’s aware things have changed.
It’s like he knows her time is short.
He seldom will leave her side now.
Sleeping next to her in the hospital bed.
They know he will miss her.
It will be hard on him with her gone.
He will wait for her by the front window.
It will break their hearts to see him yearn.
He‘s getting older and slowing down.
He‘s not as active as he once was.
He’s been sick this past year as well.
The loss of her may be too much for him.
He only knows she has always been there.
They want to do the right thing for him.
They are planning on putting him down
so the two of them,
for eternity,
will never be
one without the other.
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