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.
Sunday, August 31, 2014
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.
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