“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.
Saturday, June 28, 2014
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)