Thirty-six year old, "Emily", was diagnosed with cancer several years ago. Three weeks ago, she was hospitalized due to a rapid decline. Emily's doctors told her, at that time, that the treatment was no longer working and that there was no further treatment options available. Emily's roommate of eight years, told her not to come back home as she could not handle what was happening. Emily thought at the time, "I have no place to die." Fortunately, Emily has many friends. One friend offered her home to Emily and was available to care for her as well.
The hospice nurse and I went out to admit Emily to our program. Emily was so straight forward and matter-of-fact. She shared some stories of her life about her travels and other adventures. She had no regrets as said she has had a full life. She said she is not ready to leave her loved ones, but accepts her situation.
She is an amazing thirty-seven year old. It is obvious that she packed a full life in those three and a half decades. She has accepted what is happening and is dealing with things in a very practical way. She is a perfect example of people dying the way they live. I wish her well.
Addendum: Emily got her wish and died one week before Christmas.
A PRACTICAL GAL
She is matter of fact and practical.
She handles things as they come.
Willingly accepting what life presents.
She has always been this way.
Once her cancer reappeared,
her roommate said don't come back.
The doctors give her little hope,
"I need a place to die."
She is mature beyond her thirty-six years.
She says her life has been full.
Her only fear is leaving her loved ones.
She's not sure about afterlife.
She is declining daily.
She told us she is ready to go.
She likely will get her wish,
"I want to die before Christmas".
She'll die the way she lived;
on her terms and in her time.
Accepting, no-nonsense, matter-of-fact.
She truly is,
a practical gal.
Sunday, December 27, 2015
Saturday, December 19, 2015
THE CAT
"Glenda", ninety years old, suffered from end stage Alzheimer's Disease. Glenda had lived in a Skilled Nursing Facility for over a year as needed help with all of her daily activities. The week before she was admitted to hospice, Glenda had taken a dramatic decline to where she was bedridden and had stopped eating.
The nurse and I met with Glenda's daughter, "Janice" at the facility. Glenda had been in a three bed ward for the past year. The day we admitted Glenda to hospice, she was unresponsive and had not eaten for a week. The staff moved Glenda to a private room as they, along with her family and hospice, thought she would die within hours.
All was surprised that, at a week later, Glenda was still alive. Janice told hospice that her mother had always loved cats. She added that her mother's final wish was to have a cat by her side when she took her final breath.
The nursing home staff had attempted to locate a cat to fulfill Glenda's wish, to no avail. It was then that the hospice social worker, assigned to Glenda's case, arranged for one of our hospice nurses to visit Glenda with one of her cats. It gave all of us such a wonderful feeling to have been a part of someone's final wish.
THE CAT
She lay there so still.
We could not wake her up.
She hasn't eaten for a week.
We thought hours to a day at most.
The family was holding vigil,
knowing her time was short.
But she held on and continued to breath
as hours; then a few days; a week did pass.
Her daughter said she unconditionally loved cats.
She always had two or three around.
Her last wish was to have a cat by her side
when she took her final breath.
A staff member brought out her own cat.
She placed it by the patient's side.
She maneuvered her hand to stroke the cat.
The cat purred, loving the attention.
She must have felt the cat's presence.
She must have heard him purr.
As hours later, she was gone.
Her final wish fulfilled;
allowing her
to peacefully
let go.
The nurse and I met with Glenda's daughter, "Janice" at the facility. Glenda had been in a three bed ward for the past year. The day we admitted Glenda to hospice, she was unresponsive and had not eaten for a week. The staff moved Glenda to a private room as they, along with her family and hospice, thought she would die within hours.
All was surprised that, at a week later, Glenda was still alive. Janice told hospice that her mother had always loved cats. She added that her mother's final wish was to have a cat by her side when she took her final breath.
The nursing home staff had attempted to locate a cat to fulfill Glenda's wish, to no avail. It was then that the hospice social worker, assigned to Glenda's case, arranged for one of our hospice nurses to visit Glenda with one of her cats. It gave all of us such a wonderful feeling to have been a part of someone's final wish.
THE CAT
She lay there so still.
We could not wake her up.
She hasn't eaten for a week.
We thought hours to a day at most.
The family was holding vigil,
knowing her time was short.
But she held on and continued to breath
as hours; then a few days; a week did pass.
Her daughter said she unconditionally loved cats.
She always had two or three around.
Her last wish was to have a cat by her side
when she took her final breath.
A staff member brought out her own cat.
She placed it by the patient's side.
She maneuvered her hand to stroke the cat.
The cat purred, loving the attention.
She must have felt the cat's presence.
She must have heard him purr.
As hours later, she was gone.
Her final wish fulfilled;
allowing her
to peacefully
let go.
Saturday, December 12, 2015
THE UNIVERSE
"Edith", eighty years ago, suffers from end stage lung disease. Edith lives with her daughter, "Kristi". Edith was just released from the hospital today. She was adamant about wanting to go home. Edith is on continuous oxygen and struggles with her breathing.
In addition, Edith is bedridden and dependent with all of her activities of daily living. She has a strong spiritual belief of being one with the universe. Edith has no quality of life and immediately told us when we walked into her room, "I am done."
She seemed so happy that it is her time to go. Her face would light up when talking about her beliefs of being one with the universe. Kristi would stand by quietly and did not say much at all, although she looked on the verge of tears. Kristi was struggling with letting her mother go, while her mother couldn't wait to get to the other side.
With hospice's support, hopefully in time, Kristi can come to terms with her mother's wish to go. It is such a struggle for most of us. It is hard to understand what Edith is going through as we all just walk this walk one time. I wish them both peace.
THE UNIVERSE
She was lying there so quietly
when we walked into her bedroom.
She immediately informed us,
"It's my time. I am done."
She wanted to make sure we understood.
Dying is just a part of life.
She has no fears or regrets.
She is ready to move on.
"I am ready to go.
It may be left, it may be right.
I am not sure which way,
but I know that I will be a part
of the Universe."
Her beliefs give her comfort.
Her beliefs give her peace.
She is steadfast in her knowing
what's to come on the other side.
Her daughter stands by so quietly.
Her mother's words bringing sudden tears.
She needs a little more time
before handing her mother off
to the Universe.
In addition, Edith is bedridden and dependent with all of her activities of daily living. She has a strong spiritual belief of being one with the universe. Edith has no quality of life and immediately told us when we walked into her room, "I am done."
She seemed so happy that it is her time to go. Her face would light up when talking about her beliefs of being one with the universe. Kristi would stand by quietly and did not say much at all, although she looked on the verge of tears. Kristi was struggling with letting her mother go, while her mother couldn't wait to get to the other side.
With hospice's support, hopefully in time, Kristi can come to terms with her mother's wish to go. It is such a struggle for most of us. It is hard to understand what Edith is going through as we all just walk this walk one time. I wish them both peace.
THE UNIVERSE
She was lying there so quietly
when we walked into her bedroom.
She immediately informed us,
"It's my time. I am done."
She wanted to make sure we understood.
Dying is just a part of life.
She has no fears or regrets.
She is ready to move on.
"I am ready to go.
It may be left, it may be right.
I am not sure which way,
but I know that I will be a part
of the Universe."
Her beliefs give her comfort.
Her beliefs give her peace.
She is steadfast in her knowing
what's to come on the other side.
Her daughter stands by so quietly.
Her mother's words bringing sudden tears.
She needs a little more time
before handing her mother off
to the Universe.
Saturday, December 5, 2015
ANGELS AND SPIRITS
"Albert", eighty-nine, has been a spiritual man his entire life. Albert and his wife, "Doris", have been married for sixty-two years. Albert suffers from end stage cardiac disease. Doris is caring for him with the help of their two adult children.
Albert has been in a decline for several weeks to where now he is bedridden, eating very little and needing help with all of his needs. He is very hard of hearing and, due to extreme weakness, his voice is extremely low, making conversation very difficult.
We went out to admit Albert to our hospice program today. As part of my introduction to our services, often folks want to know what to expect at the end of life. As I was talking about what to expect, I mentioned how some patients will see spirits of loved ones or angels. It is a very natural and normal experience for the patient. It typically gives comfort to the patient and their family members. It was then that Doris shared her story about what Albert had told her a few days prior.
Doris feels what so many of our family members feel. They don't want their loved one to die, but aware that there is no quality of life. Doris's love for Albert is allowing her to release him. After sixty-two years, their love is that strong.
ADDENDUM: Albert died peacefully four days before his 90th birthday.
ANGELS AND SPIRITS
His 90th birthday is two weeks away.
He wants to live until then.
He'll hold on as long as he can;
then he'll be ready to let go.
He told his family he is done.
He has no fears about what's next.
His deep faith gives him strength.
He knows he'll be just fine.
She struggles with letting him go,
but knows it's for the best.
He can only lie their quietly.
Not able to do much else.
We spoke about the end of life.
We spoke about what to expect.
Some folks see angels or spirits.
A natural phenomenon, giving comfort.
She then shared what he had told her.
How he saw an angel standing at the end of his bed.
The angel told him, "It won't be long;"
giving him peace; giving her comfort,
even though some tears did fall.
Albert has been in a decline for several weeks to where now he is bedridden, eating very little and needing help with all of his needs. He is very hard of hearing and, due to extreme weakness, his voice is extremely low, making conversation very difficult.
We went out to admit Albert to our hospice program today. As part of my introduction to our services, often folks want to know what to expect at the end of life. As I was talking about what to expect, I mentioned how some patients will see spirits of loved ones or angels. It is a very natural and normal experience for the patient. It typically gives comfort to the patient and their family members. It was then that Doris shared her story about what Albert had told her a few days prior.
Doris feels what so many of our family members feel. They don't want their loved one to die, but aware that there is no quality of life. Doris's love for Albert is allowing her to release him. After sixty-two years, their love is that strong.
ADDENDUM: Albert died peacefully four days before his 90th birthday.
ANGELS AND SPIRITS
His 90th birthday is two weeks away.
He wants to live until then.
He'll hold on as long as he can;
then he'll be ready to let go.
He told his family he is done.
He has no fears about what's next.
His deep faith gives him strength.
He knows he'll be just fine.
She struggles with letting him go,
but knows it's for the best.
He can only lie their quietly.
Not able to do much else.
We spoke about the end of life.
We spoke about what to expect.
Some folks see angels or spirits.
A natural phenomenon, giving comfort.
She then shared what he had told her.
How he saw an angel standing at the end of his bed.
The angel told him, "It won't be long;"
giving him peace; giving her comfort,
even though some tears did fall.
Saturday, November 28, 2015
CURMUDGEON
"Janice", eighty years old, was diagnosed with cancer five months ago. She has been in a rapid decline since that time. Where five months ago, she was totally independent, now she needs help with most of her daily needs.
The hospice nurse and I went out to meet with Janice and her daughter, "Debbie". Janice comes across gruff and tough. While explaining our program to Janice and her daughter, Janice challenged all that was said. She would grumble and complain, but her words were soft. She had a delivery what would make me laugh. I would notice a half smile when she spoke, along with a twinkle in her eye.
Debbie said that her mom was a great mother. Janice rebuffed any compliment with a quick jab at whoever was speaking. One moment, Janice would be complaining, and then the next, she would speak about her pre-school days and how much she loved teaching.
Janice tried to be so tough, but her kindness shown through. Janice likely feels she has to be tough to fight her cancer. She says she is not ready to die. Her biggest fear is the unknown. Hopefully, Janice has time to process her emotions and find her peace. I wish her all the best.
CURMUDGEON
She grumbled when we walked in.
She was not happy to see us there.
We reminded her of what was happening.
Something she's been trying to forget all along.
She had been living independently.
She had been managing just fine.
Then five months ago, the cancer hit.
She doesn’t like it one bit at all.
She’ll gripe, she’ll complain;
she’ll try so hard to hide her gentle heart.
With a half smile and a twinkle in her eye,
she’ll constantly challenge all that we say.
She was a pre-school teacher.
Her face lights up with those memories.
She’ll proudly share a story about her grandson;
forgetting to be negative and show us a big smile.
Her one regret was never seeing John Denver.
Her curmudgeon face now all but gone.
We sang a chorus of "Country Roads".
Harmonizing together with enthusiasm in song.
She'll probably continue to grumble.
She'll probably continue to gripe.
She's as far from a curmudgeon as they come,
but she'll try to convince us all the same,
although never fully able to hide
that big, tender, loving heart.
The hospice nurse and I went out to meet with Janice and her daughter, "Debbie". Janice comes across gruff and tough. While explaining our program to Janice and her daughter, Janice challenged all that was said. She would grumble and complain, but her words were soft. She had a delivery what would make me laugh. I would notice a half smile when she spoke, along with a twinkle in her eye.
Debbie said that her mom was a great mother. Janice rebuffed any compliment with a quick jab at whoever was speaking. One moment, Janice would be complaining, and then the next, she would speak about her pre-school days and how much she loved teaching.
Janice tried to be so tough, but her kindness shown through. Janice likely feels she has to be tough to fight her cancer. She says she is not ready to die. Her biggest fear is the unknown. Hopefully, Janice has time to process her emotions and find her peace. I wish her all the best.
CURMUDGEON
She grumbled when we walked in.
She was not happy to see us there.
We reminded her of what was happening.
Something she's been trying to forget all along.
She had been living independently.
She had been managing just fine.
Then five months ago, the cancer hit.
She doesn’t like it one bit at all.
She’ll gripe, she’ll complain;
she’ll try so hard to hide her gentle heart.
With a half smile and a twinkle in her eye,
she’ll constantly challenge all that we say.
She was a pre-school teacher.
Her face lights up with those memories.
She’ll proudly share a story about her grandson;
forgetting to be negative and show us a big smile.
Her one regret was never seeing John Denver.
Her curmudgeon face now all but gone.
We sang a chorus of "Country Roads".
Harmonizing together with enthusiasm in song.
She'll probably continue to grumble.
She'll probably continue to gripe.
She's as far from a curmudgeon as they come,
but she'll try to convince us all the same,
although never fully able to hide
that big, tender, loving heart.
Saturday, November 21, 2015
THE BLUE DRESS
"Betty", ninety years old, has been in a recent decline secondary to lung disease. Betty is widowed and lives with her son, "Keith". Betty has eight children and a very large extended family. The majority of her family live nearby and are very involved and supportive to Betty and each other.
The hospice nurse and I met with Betty and three of her children in the bedroom of her home. I typically spend a bit of time explaining our program to the patient and family to clarify our role and what services we offer.
During the middle of our presentation, Betty's youngest daughter, "Liz" stated, "I have to share this amazing story". She added that she has been telling this story for many years. We, too, were amazed by it.
It is wonderful to see such a devoted family who continue to care for mom and are able to laugh and still have a good time as they go throughout their day. It was a pleasure meeting all of them.
THE BLUE DRESS
Her mother bought her a blue dress.
She wore it every Sunday to church.
In those days they called it a nervous breakdown.
Today; Post Partum Depression.
She spent some time in a psychiatric hospital.
She packed her blue dress along with other clothes.
She printed her name on the collar;
but someone still stole it; it was gone.
Later she moved miles away.
She had more children and raised them well.
She got a job at a local thrift shop.
Her life was fulfilling; she had a good home.
She was emptying a large plastic bag at work one day.
Sorting through some donated clothes.
When to her surprise, she pulled out a blue dress.
Her name still pronounced; penciled in on the collar.
The dress represented faith and family.
Two important characteristics in her life.
Acknowledging how far she has come.
Forty years later;
the miracle of a blue dress.
The hospice nurse and I met with Betty and three of her children in the bedroom of her home. I typically spend a bit of time explaining our program to the patient and family to clarify our role and what services we offer.
During the middle of our presentation, Betty's youngest daughter, "Liz" stated, "I have to share this amazing story". She added that she has been telling this story for many years. We, too, were amazed by it.
It is wonderful to see such a devoted family who continue to care for mom and are able to laugh and still have a good time as they go throughout their day. It was a pleasure meeting all of them.
THE BLUE DRESS
Her mother bought her a blue dress.
She wore it every Sunday to church.
In those days they called it a nervous breakdown.
Today; Post Partum Depression.
She spent some time in a psychiatric hospital.
She packed her blue dress along with other clothes.
She printed her name on the collar;
but someone still stole it; it was gone.
Later she moved miles away.
She had more children and raised them well.
She got a job at a local thrift shop.
Her life was fulfilling; she had a good home.
She was emptying a large plastic bag at work one day.
Sorting through some donated clothes.
When to her surprise, she pulled out a blue dress.
Her name still pronounced; penciled in on the collar.
The dress represented faith and family.
Two important characteristics in her life.
Acknowledging how far she has come.
Forty years later;
the miracle of a blue dress.
Saturday, November 14, 2015
IT TAKES A VILLAGE
My fellow co-worker was frustrated by the bureaucracy of this case after hitting several roadblocks. She hoped I would have better luck and asked if I could get involved.
“Kelly” had been on hospice for only a few weeks. She had been declining this past week to where, now, she was unresponsive. Her daughter, "Bonnie" and son “Adam”, had been trying to complete the paperwork that Adam’s employer demanded. All they needed was a signature from their mother's doctor stating that she was on hospice. Adam's employer would not allow Adam time off without the signed paperwork.
Adam lived in another state and wanted to see his mother to say one last goodbye. Bonnie and Adam were hitting many roadblocks during the course of trying to get a doctor’s signature on a particular form.
After speaking with Bonnie, I told her that I could come by on my way home to pick up the paperwork and that I would get the doctor’s signature for them. Coincidently, their home was right on my route home.
The next day, I drove to the clinic where the doctor worked and thought I could get her to sign the form between seeing her patients. I met up with a clerk who adamantly told me that I would have to go to another department on the first floor. I was so frustrated as I was trying to let her know that the patient was imminent and this was urgent. She held her ground.
I went to the department downstairs and met up with an angel, who immediately took the paperwork and said she would have it done right away. She bypassed all the Medical Center's bureaucracy as understood the urgency. It felt good to know that Adam made it to his mother’s side before she died and was able to say goodbye. It surely does take a village.
IT TAKES A VILLAGE
They told her he was coming tonight.
He was getting on the next plane.
Hold on until he comes.
He wants to say one last goodbye.
She was unresponsive,
but somehow the family knew;
she heard that he was coming.
They hoped she could hold on.
She didn't know about all the paperwork.
She wasn't aware of the bureaucratic mess.
So many people involved and helpful,
just to get him on the next plane.
He was able to fly in late last night.
He was able to tell his mom goodbye.
They know she waited to hear his voice
as early this morning, she said goodbye.
It takes a village.
“Kelly” had been on hospice for only a few weeks. She had been declining this past week to where, now, she was unresponsive. Her daughter, "Bonnie" and son “Adam”, had been trying to complete the paperwork that Adam’s employer demanded. All they needed was a signature from their mother's doctor stating that she was on hospice. Adam's employer would not allow Adam time off without the signed paperwork.
Adam lived in another state and wanted to see his mother to say one last goodbye. Bonnie and Adam were hitting many roadblocks during the course of trying to get a doctor’s signature on a particular form.
After speaking with Bonnie, I told her that I could come by on my way home to pick up the paperwork and that I would get the doctor’s signature for them. Coincidently, their home was right on my route home.
The next day, I drove to the clinic where the doctor worked and thought I could get her to sign the form between seeing her patients. I met up with a clerk who adamantly told me that I would have to go to another department on the first floor. I was so frustrated as I was trying to let her know that the patient was imminent and this was urgent. She held her ground.
I went to the department downstairs and met up with an angel, who immediately took the paperwork and said she would have it done right away. She bypassed all the Medical Center's bureaucracy as understood the urgency. It felt good to know that Adam made it to his mother’s side before she died and was able to say goodbye. It surely does take a village.
IT TAKES A VILLAGE
They told her he was coming tonight.
He was getting on the next plane.
Hold on until he comes.
He wants to say one last goodbye.
She was unresponsive,
but somehow the family knew;
she heard that he was coming.
They hoped she could hold on.
She didn't know about all the paperwork.
She wasn't aware of the bureaucratic mess.
So many people involved and helpful,
just to get him on the next plane.
He was able to fly in late last night.
He was able to tell his mom goodbye.
They know she waited to hear his voice
as early this morning, she said goodbye.
It takes a village.
Saturday, November 7, 2015
TO SAY GOODBYE
I meet so many people in my line of work, it is not surprising that, now and then, a kindred spirit will cross my path. I first met "Alice" one year ago. We had an instant connection. Alice is my hero. She embraces each person she meets with love and kindness.
Alice and I have had many conversations this past year about how our lives seem to have paralleled. We have such a strong connection; a connection bonded by our two spirits. We understand each other so easily.
Alice has lived each of her 98 years to the fullest. She will share her life stories which, ultimately, will leave us both laughing. Alice and I have had many conversations over this past year about our strong bond. I truly feel that our lives have connected before and will again.
I heard that Alice was declining and likely will die within a few days. I had to go see her one last time to say goodbye. But, how does one say goodbye? Alice confirmed what both of us have frequently talked about this past year. Knowing that we will meet up again. Goodbye dear friend. Until we meet again. Go in peace.
PS. Alice died peacefully three days later with her family at the bedside. I am looking forward to meeting up with my buddy on the other side. We both know that we will.
TO SAY GOODBYE
I had to go see her.
I heard she was in a decline.
Hold on until I come.
I have to say goodbye.
She is one very special lady
who came late into my life.
We met just one year ago,
but she grabbed me from the start.
She was lying there so peacefully;
I thought she was asleep.
But she opened her eyes and sweetly said,
"You don't know how happy you have made me."
We held hands while we talked.
Two kindred spirits side by side.
She spoke of seeing spirits;
she spoke about her long life.
I was trying hard to find the right words.
I was struggling to say goodbye,
when she looked up at me and softly said,
"We have a lot more to talk about."
We both know we will meet again.
Maybe not this life, but for sure the next.
Our paths have crossed many times before.
We both feel it in our hearts.
No words can capture my feelings.
No words will express my heart.
So for now, dear friend,
it is just a simple
Goodbye.
Alice and I have had many conversations this past year about how our lives seem to have paralleled. We have such a strong connection; a connection bonded by our two spirits. We understand each other so easily.
Alice has lived each of her 98 years to the fullest. She will share her life stories which, ultimately, will leave us both laughing. Alice and I have had many conversations over this past year about our strong bond. I truly feel that our lives have connected before and will again.
I heard that Alice was declining and likely will die within a few days. I had to go see her one last time to say goodbye. But, how does one say goodbye? Alice confirmed what both of us have frequently talked about this past year. Knowing that we will meet up again. Goodbye dear friend. Until we meet again. Go in peace.
PS. Alice died peacefully three days later with her family at the bedside. I am looking forward to meeting up with my buddy on the other side. We both know that we will.
TO SAY GOODBYE
I had to go see her.
I heard she was in a decline.
Hold on until I come.
I have to say goodbye.
She is one very special lady
who came late into my life.
We met just one year ago,
but she grabbed me from the start.
She was lying there so peacefully;
I thought she was asleep.
But she opened her eyes and sweetly said,
"You don't know how happy you have made me."
We held hands while we talked.
Two kindred spirits side by side.
She spoke of seeing spirits;
she spoke about her long life.
I was trying hard to find the right words.
I was struggling to say goodbye,
when she looked up at me and softly said,
"We have a lot more to talk about."
We both know we will meet again.
Maybe not this life, but for sure the next.
Our paths have crossed many times before.
We both feel it in our hearts.
No words can capture my feelings.
No words will express my heart.
So for now, dear friend,
it is just a simple
Goodbye.
Friday, October 30, 2015
TWO YEARS AGO TODAY
On October 30, 2013, two years ago today, I had an "out-of-body" experience in the Emergency Room. I had suffered a ruptured appendix. I had a widespread infection and was later told by my doctor that I came as close to death as anyone can.
Glimpsing heaven was such a normal experience. There was a beautiful light which I knew was a spiritual being. I knew it was not my time and stated so; adding "I am not ready. I am going back" I have no idea what that means today, but did know at the time I said it.
Since then, I have shared my story with patients when guided from my heart. I don't share it often, but when I do, it is amazing how helpful it is to patients. In these past two years, I have continually questioned, "What is it all about? What do I do with it?" I have been told by others that I came back as have more patients to help. I have come to terms that my role is to share my story one person at a time, and that is what I do.
It just was such a profound, remarkable experience, I feel like I should do so much more. But what? I am honored and humbled by this experience. I pray I do it justice. I just know it has changed my life to where I daily count my blessings for those who are in my life. In the end, it is not what's in your life, but who is. Thank you God for this amazing lesson.
TWO YEARS AGO TODAY
I've been thinking about it a lot today.
Still wondering what to do.
Two years later, and still no answers.
I still don't know what it means.
He told me I have more patients to help.
That is why I came back.
I do share my story when it feels right.
Giving me purpose in my life.
It may not be all that complicated.
Just tell my story when guided from my heart.
Those magical moments when I have done so.
Helping another along my way.
Thank you for the peek; the experience.
I'll just continue doing what I have been doing.
Tell my story; share my perception.
The answers may come,
when the questions are no longer needed.
Glimpsing heaven was such a normal experience. There was a beautiful light which I knew was a spiritual being. I knew it was not my time and stated so; adding "I am not ready. I am going back" I have no idea what that means today, but did know at the time I said it.
Since then, I have shared my story with patients when guided from my heart. I don't share it often, but when I do, it is amazing how helpful it is to patients. In these past two years, I have continually questioned, "What is it all about? What do I do with it?" I have been told by others that I came back as have more patients to help. I have come to terms that my role is to share my story one person at a time, and that is what I do.
It just was such a profound, remarkable experience, I feel like I should do so much more. But what? I am honored and humbled by this experience. I pray I do it justice. I just know it has changed my life to where I daily count my blessings for those who are in my life. In the end, it is not what's in your life, but who is. Thank you God for this amazing lesson.
TWO YEARS AGO TODAY
I've been thinking about it a lot today.
Still wondering what to do.
Two years later, and still no answers.
I still don't know what it means.
He told me I have more patients to help.
That is why I came back.
I do share my story when it feels right.
Giving me purpose in my life.
It may not be all that complicated.
Just tell my story when guided from my heart.
Those magical moments when I have done so.
Helping another along my way.
Thank you for the peek; the experience.
I'll just continue doing what I have been doing.
Tell my story; share my perception.
The answers may come,
when the questions are no longer needed.
Sunday, October 25, 2015
POP!
“Violet”, eighty-seven, suffered for years from cardiac disease. Violet had been residing in a Skilled Nursing Facility for several years getting the care she needed. Violet and her husband were missionaries and traveled the world. Their daughter, “Sandy”, shared that the family moved every six months or so because of the parent’s ministry. Sandy added that they were taught as children to always help your fellow man. Sandy said one would feel her mother’s presence by her big heart and the love she shared with the world. Sandy's parents taught that amazing lesson by words and by their actions.
Violet had stopped eating and drinking about a week prior to being admitted to our hospice program. At the time of admission, Violet was unresponsive and in a coma. The family knew that her time was close. Violet had amazing support from her church community and her family. Once the family knew that Violet’s time was close, they would sit by her side throughout each day.
Sandy got an urgent midnight call from the facility to come quick as things had changed. Violet died a few hours later with her family by her side. Sandy said she is relieved that her mother is no longer suffering. She knows her mother is in a better place and doing great. Violet has left an amazing legacy.
POP!
She traveled the world
helping others in need.
It was her life's mission;
administering her faith.
Her presence was always felt.
She had that much love to share.
So they weren't surprised at how she left;
letting them know she was on her way.
She was unresponsive and in a deep sleep.
Her breathing was sporadic and slowing down.
The family had been holding vigil for days.
They knew her time was near.
They got an urgent call late one night.
There has been a big change; you need to come.
They rushed over and got there in time
to see her take her last breath.
Immediately they heard a large pop
while the hall lights flickered off.
Sitting in the dark in her room, they knew
she was telling them she was on her way.
Her family could feel her presence.
Somehow no one was surprised.
That was so how she would handle things.
One large pop, then a spiritual
goodbye.
Violet had stopped eating and drinking about a week prior to being admitted to our hospice program. At the time of admission, Violet was unresponsive and in a coma. The family knew that her time was close. Violet had amazing support from her church community and her family. Once the family knew that Violet’s time was close, they would sit by her side throughout each day.
Sandy got an urgent midnight call from the facility to come quick as things had changed. Violet died a few hours later with her family by her side. Sandy said she is relieved that her mother is no longer suffering. She knows her mother is in a better place and doing great. Violet has left an amazing legacy.
POP!
She traveled the world
helping others in need.
It was her life's mission;
administering her faith.
Her presence was always felt.
She had that much love to share.
So they weren't surprised at how she left;
letting them know she was on her way.
She was unresponsive and in a deep sleep.
Her breathing was sporadic and slowing down.
The family had been holding vigil for days.
They knew her time was near.
They got an urgent call late one night.
There has been a big change; you need to come.
They rushed over and got there in time
to see her take her last breath.
Immediately they heard a large pop
while the hall lights flickered off.
Sitting in the dark in her room, they knew
she was telling them she was on her way.
Her family could feel her presence.
Somehow no one was surprised.
That was so how she would handle things.
One large pop, then a spiritual
goodbye.
Saturday, October 17, 2015
WHAT SHE WANTS
When someone is near the end of their life, their body starts to prepare for death. Patients start to eat less and less as they slowly lose their appetite. Many patients often stop drinking as well. Our culture, along with so many others, want our loved ones to eat. We think they will feel better. Patients do not die of starvation or thirst. Their body can no longer process food or water efficiently. Oftentimes, it can cause more discomfort by forcing patients to eat or drink.
In the end, we don't want our loved ones to die, but then, we don't want them to suffer either. It is so hard to allow someone to let go. I have often heard, "They are giving up."
What many do not understand is that it isn't giving up, it is letting go. No one can stop the dying process. With this particular couple, it is the wife's goal for her husband to make his 100th birthday. That is something he doesn't even care about. With his lack of appetite and weakness, he has no quality of life and he is done.
He will likely continue to decline, and, with that decline, hopefully, she will see that it is time to let him go. At this point, she can only see her own needs, which are so painful. It is hard for any of us to feel so out of control. I wish them both peace and comfort.
WHAT SHE WANTS
She wants him to drink more water.
She wants him to eat a full meal.
She wants him to reach his 100th birthday,
only four short months away.
Water doesn't quench his thirst;
he has no appetite for food.
He's not thirsty; he's not hungry.
No longer any interest for him.
He is done here.
His strength is all but gone.
She needs him to continue to fight.
She's not ready to let him go.
You see her heart breaking inside.
You see her trying to regain control.
She wants him to stay a while longer,
even though he says, he wants to go.
Hopefully, in time, she'll understand
that it isn't helping him to keep holding on,
and she'll be able to release him;
to let him go;
to give him;
What he wants.
In the end, we don't want our loved ones to die, but then, we don't want them to suffer either. It is so hard to allow someone to let go. I have often heard, "They are giving up."
What many do not understand is that it isn't giving up, it is letting go. No one can stop the dying process. With this particular couple, it is the wife's goal for her husband to make his 100th birthday. That is something he doesn't even care about. With his lack of appetite and weakness, he has no quality of life and he is done.
He will likely continue to decline, and, with that decline, hopefully, she will see that it is time to let him go. At this point, she can only see her own needs, which are so painful. It is hard for any of us to feel so out of control. I wish them both peace and comfort.
WHAT SHE WANTS
She wants him to drink more water.
She wants him to eat a full meal.
She wants him to reach his 100th birthday,
only four short months away.
Water doesn't quench his thirst;
he has no appetite for food.
He's not thirsty; he's not hungry.
No longer any interest for him.
He is done here.
His strength is all but gone.
She needs him to continue to fight.
She's not ready to let him go.
You see her heart breaking inside.
You see her trying to regain control.
She wants him to stay a while longer,
even though he says, he wants to go.
Hopefully, in time, she'll understand
that it isn't helping him to keep holding on,
and she'll be able to release him;
to let him go;
to give him;
What he wants.
Saturday, October 10, 2015
THIS DAY
Alzheimer's Disease is a slow, cruel disease. It robs folks of their memory, leaving loved ones to grieve over long periods of time. Quite often, when the patient can no longer remember, they can get frustrated and afraid. Quality of life gets so diminished. Family know that if the patient were aware, they would hate being like this.
Family members wish things were over as their loved one has no quality of life. One loses their loved one years before the actual death. With Alzheimer's Disease, families lose their loved one slowly over a long period of time. Quite often, they will feel relief at the death, as their loved one is no longer suffering. One can want it over for the patient, but then they do not want to lose their family member.
I witnessed this patient asking her daughter who she was? Seeing the look on the daughter's face pained me. The daughter shared that she knew this day would come, but did not think it would be so hurtful. On one hand, she knew it was inevitable, but on the other hand, it is an additional loss. The daughter is struggling with wanting things over for mom, but then does not want her to die. It is such a struggle for all.
THIS DAY
She knew this day would come.
She thought she'd be okay,
but actually hearing her mother's words,
shook her at her deepest core.
Why should she be surprised?
She's been going steadily downhill.
Sleeping more; getting weaker,
eating less; becoming more confused.
Visible changes hinting her decline.
Adjusting to each new challenge.
On one hand, wanting it over for her.
On the other, needing a little more time.
Walking up to her today,
seeing her slouched in her wheelchair;
not quite seeing; not quite hearing,
"Are you my daughter?"
Her mother has always known her.
This was the first day she did not.
Another new adjustment for both of them;
This day;
Today.
Family members wish things were over as their loved one has no quality of life. One loses their loved one years before the actual death. With Alzheimer's Disease, families lose their loved one slowly over a long period of time. Quite often, they will feel relief at the death, as their loved one is no longer suffering. One can want it over for the patient, but then they do not want to lose their family member.
I witnessed this patient asking her daughter who she was? Seeing the look on the daughter's face pained me. The daughter shared that she knew this day would come, but did not think it would be so hurtful. On one hand, she knew it was inevitable, but on the other hand, it is an additional loss. The daughter is struggling with wanting things over for mom, but then does not want her to die. It is such a struggle for all.
THIS DAY
She knew this day would come.
She thought she'd be okay,
but actually hearing her mother's words,
shook her at her deepest core.
Why should she be surprised?
She's been going steadily downhill.
Sleeping more; getting weaker,
eating less; becoming more confused.
Visible changes hinting her decline.
Adjusting to each new challenge.
On one hand, wanting it over for her.
On the other, needing a little more time.
Walking up to her today,
seeing her slouched in her wheelchair;
not quite seeing; not quite hearing,
"Are you my daughter?"
Her mother has always known her.
This was the first day she did not.
Another new adjustment for both of them;
This day;
Today.
Saturday, October 3, 2015
A MAN
Eighteen year old, "Kyle", was sitting in his father's hospital room waiting for us to come. His father was in a coma and unresponsive. We walked into a nearby private room to talk. Kyle sat across from me so stoic and quiet. I knew he was a college student, but when I asked him his age, I was surprised to hear he was only eighteen.
Kyle's mother died five years ago. He said his father was his support at that time. Now the only family is an uncle flying in tonight from a nearby state. His uncle is the agent on his father's advanced health care directive. During the visit, the doctor came in to talk with us. We got Kyle's uncle on the phone, who, along with Kyle, both agreed that the patient would not want any aggressive treatment.
Kyle sat so ramrod straight and didn't say much, but his face showed so much sadness. We discussed funeral planning and other tough questions. Kyle would answer so clearly as he and his dad had recently talked about his dad's wishes. I had to ask some tough questions and Kyle would be so straightforward when answering me.
I told Kyle to let his dad know that his uncle would be here later tonight. I am hoping that his dad will hold on until then, so that Kyle will have family support. He was such a sweet kid. I had tears as I walked away. It seems so unfair for him to have to bear this burden. I hope he gets the support he needs.
A MAN
He sat there so stoic.
His back ramrod straight.
Eyes staring into mine.
Not knowing what to do.
It happened so suddenly.
His dad had been doing fine.
Now he is unresponsive;
dying before his son's eyes.
His mother died five years ago.
He had his dad for support then.
Now the only family left is an uncle,
who is flying in on a late flight.
Being asked tough questions.
Questions regarding life and death.
Comfort care versus invasive treatment.
What would your father want?
He seems so mature,
but then he is only eighteen.
Having to grow up so abruptly.
Expecting to be
without warning;
a man.
Kyle's mother died five years ago. He said his father was his support at that time. Now the only family is an uncle flying in tonight from a nearby state. His uncle is the agent on his father's advanced health care directive. During the visit, the doctor came in to talk with us. We got Kyle's uncle on the phone, who, along with Kyle, both agreed that the patient would not want any aggressive treatment.
Kyle sat so ramrod straight and didn't say much, but his face showed so much sadness. We discussed funeral planning and other tough questions. Kyle would answer so clearly as he and his dad had recently talked about his dad's wishes. I had to ask some tough questions and Kyle would be so straightforward when answering me.
I told Kyle to let his dad know that his uncle would be here later tonight. I am hoping that his dad will hold on until then, so that Kyle will have family support. He was such a sweet kid. I had tears as I walked away. It seems so unfair for him to have to bear this burden. I hope he gets the support he needs.
A MAN
He sat there so stoic.
His back ramrod straight.
Eyes staring into mine.
Not knowing what to do.
It happened so suddenly.
His dad had been doing fine.
Now he is unresponsive;
dying before his son's eyes.
His mother died five years ago.
He had his dad for support then.
Now the only family left is an uncle,
who is flying in on a late flight.
Being asked tough questions.
Questions regarding life and death.
Comfort care versus invasive treatment.
What would your father want?
He seems so mature,
but then he is only eighteen.
Having to grow up so abruptly.
Expecting to be
without warning;
a man.
Saturday, September 12, 2015
MAKE BELIEVE WORLD
"Margie", ninety years old, suffers from Alzheimer's Disease. She lives in an assisted living center. With Alzheimer's, quite often, patients will remember something that happened years ago, but will forget if they ate lunch. In Margie's reality, she was forty-five years old and was perfectly content and happy to be in that place. This was her reality.
MAKE BELIEVE WORLD
Happy and relaxed
while napping in her room.
She'll smile when she sees you,
"What are you kids doing here?"
She'll talk about her grandpa,
who gets cranky now and then.
How her parents are doing okay.
"They live nearby you know."
She can't remember who's the president.
She believes she's forty-five.
She messes up her family's names,
but she'll give you the biggest smile.
She is becoming more confused.
Her daily needs are increasing.
Her family visits often.
They see her slow decline.
But she is happy and content.
Unaware of what others see.
Her reality is faulted.
Blessings in the form of
a make believe world.
MAKE BELIEVE WORLD
Happy and relaxed
while napping in her room.
She'll smile when she sees you,
"What are you kids doing here?"
She'll talk about her grandpa,
who gets cranky now and then.
How her parents are doing okay.
"They live nearby you know."
She can't remember who's the president.
She believes she's forty-five.
She messes up her family's names,
but she'll give you the biggest smile.
She is becoming more confused.
Her daily needs are increasing.
Her family visits often.
They see her slow decline.
But she is happy and content.
Unaware of what others see.
Her reality is faulted.
Blessings in the form of
a make believe world.
Saturday, September 5, 2015
LIKE I WOULD
"Jean", seventy-four, was diagnosed with cancer nine months ago. Jean underwent many rounds of chemotherapy and radiation to no avail. Her doctors told her last week that the chemotherapy is no longer working. It was then that Jean's doctor made a hospice referral.
Jean, like many patients I meet, is very independent. She is struggling hard to hold onto that independence. I have never met anyone who likes being dependent, so was not surprised. Jean's daughter lives nearby and is taking Family Leave to be able to help her mother.
Jean had a lot of questions about hospice's involvement and wanted limited visits. I explained Medicare guidelines for the nurse and social worker, who are mandated by Medicare to make routine visits. Jean's daughter said that her mother is very independent and private. I respected Jean's determination as could relate. What I saw in her was how I probably would be if I were walking in her shoes.
Jean used lots of sarcastic humor. She had us all laughing throughout the visit. Humor takes the edge off the seriousness of things that can help one cope. She is reasonable and will likely allow help as needed; although will probably grumble and make us all laugh along the way.
LIKE I WOULD
She is independent.
She is spirited.
She is determined;
wanting to remain in control.
She is quick to smile
using wry humor to cope.
She hates what is happening to her;
never dreaming things would be this way.
She is able to manage her needs for now,
but knows continued autonomy looks bleak.
She'll fight it as long as she can;
determined to hold onto any independence.
Immediately I understood how she was feeling;
how she was trying so hard to remain strong.
I saw a little bit of me in her;
handling things like I probably would.
With self determination and quality of life,
I hope she has the time to slowly let go,
allowing her to be her;
like I know
I would.
Jean, like many patients I meet, is very independent. She is struggling hard to hold onto that independence. I have never met anyone who likes being dependent, so was not surprised. Jean's daughter lives nearby and is taking Family Leave to be able to help her mother.
Jean had a lot of questions about hospice's involvement and wanted limited visits. I explained Medicare guidelines for the nurse and social worker, who are mandated by Medicare to make routine visits. Jean's daughter said that her mother is very independent and private. I respected Jean's determination as could relate. What I saw in her was how I probably would be if I were walking in her shoes.
Jean used lots of sarcastic humor. She had us all laughing throughout the visit. Humor takes the edge off the seriousness of things that can help one cope. She is reasonable and will likely allow help as needed; although will probably grumble and make us all laugh along the way.
LIKE I WOULD
She is independent.
She is spirited.
She is determined;
wanting to remain in control.
She is quick to smile
using wry humor to cope.
She hates what is happening to her;
never dreaming things would be this way.
She is able to manage her needs for now,
but knows continued autonomy looks bleak.
She'll fight it as long as she can;
determined to hold onto any independence.
Immediately I understood how she was feeling;
how she was trying so hard to remain strong.
I saw a little bit of me in her;
handling things like I probably would.
With self determination and quality of life,
I hope she has the time to slowly let go,
allowing her to be her;
like I know
I would.
Friday, August 28, 2015
NATURAL
In the line of my work, I meet so many amazing and wonderful people. Now and then, I meet up with a kindred spirit. Typically the connection is instant. Somehow we understand each other on a deeper level.
I had a sudden connection with this particular patient. Fortunately, I have been able to visit her quite often this past year. We have talked frequently about being kindred spirits. In addition, her family history and mine have crossed paths. I believe we were meant to meet in this life.
NATURAL
Each time we meet up,
it feels so right; so natural.
It was that way from the start;
an instantaneous connection.
She is my hero.
Her love of life; of people; of each day.
She'll laugh so easily and tease one moment;
the next; say how she has been so lucky in life.
She wishes we had met years ago.
We both would like more time to be together,
but she is slowly declining
wondering why she is still here.
Our history has crossed before;
her ancestors and mine.
Connected to one small town up north;
several generations past.
She is thirty years my senior,
but we are kindred spirits.
We were meant to meet in this life.
Our paths were meant to cross.
It is so comfortable being with her.
We understand and connect so strongly to each other.
Our spirits have united before; and will again.
It is the natural order of things.
I had a sudden connection with this particular patient. Fortunately, I have been able to visit her quite often this past year. We have talked frequently about being kindred spirits. In addition, her family history and mine have crossed paths. I believe we were meant to meet in this life.
NATURAL
Each time we meet up,
it feels so right; so natural.
It was that way from the start;
an instantaneous connection.
She is my hero.
Her love of life; of people; of each day.
She'll laugh so easily and tease one moment;
the next; say how she has been so lucky in life.
She wishes we had met years ago.
We both would like more time to be together,
but she is slowly declining
wondering why she is still here.
Our history has crossed before;
her ancestors and mine.
Connected to one small town up north;
several generations past.
She is thirty years my senior,
but we are kindred spirits.
We were meant to meet in this life.
Our paths were meant to cross.
It is so comfortable being with her.
We understand and connect so strongly to each other.
Our spirits have united before; and will again.
It is the natural order of things.
Saturday, August 22, 2015
OUT OF BODY
I follow my spirit regarding my “out-of-body” experience. There are times I share the entire story, or like this family member, just a sentence or two. I follow my spirits who guide me from above. It was a very difficult three weeks for me those eighteen months ago, but I would do it all over again, knowing how much people are touched when I am guided to share. It was well worth it. My patients and families are doing the hard part, not me. I feel so blessed and honored to have had such an amazing experience.
OUT OF BODY
It happened again today.
I shared my story.
My peek of the other side;
my few moments of crossing over.
It was a long three week ordeal.
My strength came from those I love.
Hardship, but amazing lessons I have learned.
Honored to have been given a preview of what is to come.
I don't share it often,
but take guidance from above.
Reactions always tell me,
it gives solace, validation, peace.
His dad took a dramatic, downhill turn.
He knows his time is soon.
With a somber face, he will focus
on tasks that need to be done.
He was efficient, organized, concerned.
I told him, “His dad leaving is much too soon.”
I then shared a small part of my peek into heaven.
His heart melted while tears began to flow.
Making a difference in someone’s life,
make it all the more worthwhile.
They are doing the hard part, not me.
Thank you God for your gifts to us all.
OUT OF BODY
It happened again today.
I shared my story.
My peek of the other side;
my few moments of crossing over.
It was a long three week ordeal.
My strength came from those I love.
Hardship, but amazing lessons I have learned.
Honored to have been given a preview of what is to come.
I don't share it often,
but take guidance from above.
Reactions always tell me,
it gives solace, validation, peace.
His dad took a dramatic, downhill turn.
He knows his time is soon.
With a somber face, he will focus
on tasks that need to be done.
He was efficient, organized, concerned.
I told him, “His dad leaving is much too soon.”
I then shared a small part of my peek into heaven.
His heart melted while tears began to flow.
Making a difference in someone’s life,
make it all the more worthwhile.
They are doing the hard part, not me.
Thank you God for your gifts to us all.
Saturday, August 15, 2015
WHY?
Why?
What's it all about?
Lying there asleep;
slumped over.
She doesn't recognize anyone.
She barely speaks at all.
She's having trouble swallowing.
She spends her days asleep.
She's been widowed nine years.
Her three sons have all died before her.
Her two daughters-in-law do care,
but they live so far away.
What is her life's purpose now?
Is there still more to be done?
When will her struggle be over?
Why?
What's it all about?
What's it all about?
Lying there asleep;
slumped over.
She doesn't recognize anyone.
She barely speaks at all.
She's having trouble swallowing.
She spends her days asleep.
She's been widowed nine years.
Her three sons have all died before her.
Her two daughters-in-law do care,
but they live so far away.
What is her life's purpose now?
Is there still more to be done?
When will her struggle be over?
Why?
What's it all about?
Monday, August 10, 2015
HELL
The first thing one notices
is her lovely, sweet smile.
One would never guess;
she's been to Hell.
1945; sixteen years old.
Hiroshima; Nagasaki.
Losing her home; her town;
her father; three brothers.
Her eyes filled with tears
while telling her story,
then the subject quickly changed
to a much easier topic;
her dying.
She wants no treatment.
She's tired of doctors; the hospital.
Telling those around her,
"I just want to die peacefully
in my own home".
If she were angry, we'd understand.
If she were bitter, we'd get that too.
But, Hell has made her wiser;
so much wiser than us all.
Insightful;
hopeful;
forgiving;
She's been to Hell.
is her lovely, sweet smile.
One would never guess;
she's been to Hell.
1945; sixteen years old.
Hiroshima; Nagasaki.
Losing her home; her town;
her father; three brothers.
Her eyes filled with tears
while telling her story,
then the subject quickly changed
to a much easier topic;
her dying.
She wants no treatment.
She's tired of doctors; the hospital.
Telling those around her,
"I just want to die peacefully
in my own home".
If she were angry, we'd understand.
If she were bitter, we'd get that too.
But, Hell has made her wiser;
so much wiser than us all.
Insightful;
hopeful;
forgiving;
She's been to Hell.
Saturday, August 1, 2015
HI
"Don", sixty-eight" suffers from dementia and end stage cardiac disease. Don is divorced and lives alone, although has had full-time hired attendant care in the home for three years. Don had been doing okay until yesterday. He declined rapidly overnight to where now, he cannot walk, is struggling to breathe and not able to eat.
Don spent last evening in the Emergency Room. The doctors could only treat his symptoms as his heart is failing. Don's daughter, "Carlye" is the executor of his estate. Carlye is devoted to her father. She is aware that he is dying and wants him comfortable.
The admission nurse and I went out this afternoon to open Don to hospice. The nurse was working diligently addressing Don's discomfort. Don was suffering from "Terminal Agitation." Some patients, hours before they die, get restless and experience what Don is going through. At one point, the nurse told me later, that Don's heart did stop for one minute.
Don would rock back and forth and struggle to get a comfortable spot. Several times throughout our visit, he would stop rocking, his eyes would click in to us and he would so sweetly say in a soft whisper, "Hi". I saw such a gentle man who was thinking of others. Don had calmed down quite a bit by the time the nurse and I left two hours later. Caryle knows to call hospice with any changes or questions.
Carlye said that every Christmas her father would buy bicycles for the children in the community. She shared several other stories about his generosity. Even in dying, Don was thinking of others. What a legacy he will be leaving. I feel honored to have met him.
ADDENDUM: Don died two days later with his daughter by his side. Carlye said that her father's death was peaceful and calm. So deserving for such a sweet man.
"HI"
He looked so uncomfortable.
Restless, fidgety, holding his head.
Inhaling deep gasps, struggling to breathe.
Distressing us all to see him suffer so.
He had been a very successful businessman.
He was well known in his town
for his generosity; his kindness; his wealth.
Now he is confused and not aware we are there.
He would lie back, then lean forward.
He couldn't find a comfortable spot.
Every now and then, his eyes would open,
he would see us and so sweetly whisper, "Hi."
He had an amazing spirit.
His big generous heart shone through.
Thinking of others before himself.
Struggling so, but still a gentleman.
For the two hours we were there,
he continued in this vain.
Trying to get comfortable,
seeing us, then a soft, sweet "Hi."
He had calmed down some
as we were getting ready to leave.
I stroked his head and said some words.
He looked up to me and softy said
in his kind sweet voice,
"Thank you."
Don spent last evening in the Emergency Room. The doctors could only treat his symptoms as his heart is failing. Don's daughter, "Carlye" is the executor of his estate. Carlye is devoted to her father. She is aware that he is dying and wants him comfortable.
The admission nurse and I went out this afternoon to open Don to hospice. The nurse was working diligently addressing Don's discomfort. Don was suffering from "Terminal Agitation." Some patients, hours before they die, get restless and experience what Don is going through. At one point, the nurse told me later, that Don's heart did stop for one minute.
Don would rock back and forth and struggle to get a comfortable spot. Several times throughout our visit, he would stop rocking, his eyes would click in to us and he would so sweetly say in a soft whisper, "Hi". I saw such a gentle man who was thinking of others. Don had calmed down quite a bit by the time the nurse and I left two hours later. Caryle knows to call hospice with any changes or questions.
Carlye said that every Christmas her father would buy bicycles for the children in the community. She shared several other stories about his generosity. Even in dying, Don was thinking of others. What a legacy he will be leaving. I feel honored to have met him.
ADDENDUM: Don died two days later with his daughter by his side. Carlye said that her father's death was peaceful and calm. So deserving for such a sweet man.
"HI"
He looked so uncomfortable.
Restless, fidgety, holding his head.
Inhaling deep gasps, struggling to breathe.
Distressing us all to see him suffer so.
He had been a very successful businessman.
He was well known in his town
for his generosity; his kindness; his wealth.
Now he is confused and not aware we are there.
He would lie back, then lean forward.
He couldn't find a comfortable spot.
Every now and then, his eyes would open,
he would see us and so sweetly whisper, "Hi."
He had an amazing spirit.
His big generous heart shone through.
Thinking of others before himself.
Struggling so, but still a gentleman.
For the two hours we were there,
he continued in this vain.
Trying to get comfortable,
seeing us, then a soft, sweet "Hi."
He had calmed down some
as we were getting ready to leave.
I stroked his head and said some words.
He looked up to me and softy said
in his kind sweet voice,
"Thank you."
Friday, July 24, 2015
BIRDS
"Kristen", sixty years old, suffered from breast cancer that had spread to her lymph nodes. Kristen had been divorced for years and lived alone. She was not close to her family, but had a multitude of close girlfriends who were family to her. Kristen had her own massage therapy business that she ran out of her home. She was a very spiritual being and loved being connected to nature.
Kristen was diagnosed five years ago. Initially she tried the holistic approach for treatment. She did okay for quite a while until a decline a few months ago. It was then that she did chemotherapy and radiation, to no avail. Recently she told her friends that she wished she did chemotherapy and radiation first, instead of the other way around.
Kristen was determined to live and fight her battle. She continued with the holistic approach as long as she could. It was when Kristen took a turn for the worse, that her friend, "Lisa", who was the agent on her health care directive, called hospice to admit Kristen to our program. Four days earlier, Kristen was driving her car. The day we went out, she was imminent and unresponsive. With her friends at the bedside, Kristen died twenty-four hours after we admitted her to hospice.
The next day, I called Lisa to offer condolences. It was then that Lisa told me about all of the birds that were appearing. Lisa and her friends believe it is Kristen's spirit. It is giving them peace knowing she is still around and doing okay.
I hear so many of these stories, that for me, it validates my belief that there is life beyond. Of course, life, and possibly death, is all about perspective. In the end, it doesn't really matter if it is true or not. If one believes it to be true, then it is true to them. I just know that I felt goose bumps hearing this beautiful story. It if brings joy, then it is a great thing.
BIRDS
She loved to work in her garden.
She loved the birds that flew around.
She even had a bird clock in her living room,
chirping a different variety every hour.
She was a very spiritual being.
She believed in nature; in energy.
She died with a radiant glow.
They believe it was her spirit leaving.
They know she didn't go too far
as she continues to show them she is around.
They are seeing birds everywhere;
in the park; in their homes; in their yards.
Moments after they picked up her body,
her cat brought a baby blue jay into the home.
The bird flew directly into her bedroom.
They had trouble getting it back out.
Her friend found five blue jays in her yard.
Another; two doves landing by her feet.
Her great niece spoke of a blue bird circling overhead.
She's only eleven, but knew it was her aunt.
Whether it is true or not,
doesn't really matter much at all.
The important thing is that they all do believe;
the most compelling truth of all.
Kristen was diagnosed five years ago. Initially she tried the holistic approach for treatment. She did okay for quite a while until a decline a few months ago. It was then that she did chemotherapy and radiation, to no avail. Recently she told her friends that she wished she did chemotherapy and radiation first, instead of the other way around.
Kristen was determined to live and fight her battle. She continued with the holistic approach as long as she could. It was when Kristen took a turn for the worse, that her friend, "Lisa", who was the agent on her health care directive, called hospice to admit Kristen to our program. Four days earlier, Kristen was driving her car. The day we went out, she was imminent and unresponsive. With her friends at the bedside, Kristen died twenty-four hours after we admitted her to hospice.
The next day, I called Lisa to offer condolences. It was then that Lisa told me about all of the birds that were appearing. Lisa and her friends believe it is Kristen's spirit. It is giving them peace knowing she is still around and doing okay.
I hear so many of these stories, that for me, it validates my belief that there is life beyond. Of course, life, and possibly death, is all about perspective. In the end, it doesn't really matter if it is true or not. If one believes it to be true, then it is true to them. I just know that I felt goose bumps hearing this beautiful story. It if brings joy, then it is a great thing.
BIRDS
She loved to work in her garden.
She loved the birds that flew around.
She even had a bird clock in her living room,
chirping a different variety every hour.
She was a very spiritual being.
She believed in nature; in energy.
She died with a radiant glow.
They believe it was her spirit leaving.
They know she didn't go too far
as she continues to show them she is around.
They are seeing birds everywhere;
in the park; in their homes; in their yards.
Moments after they picked up her body,
her cat brought a baby blue jay into the home.
The bird flew directly into her bedroom.
They had trouble getting it back out.
Her friend found five blue jays in her yard.
Another; two doves landing by her feet.
Her great niece spoke of a blue bird circling overhead.
She's only eleven, but knew it was her aunt.
Whether it is true or not,
doesn't really matter much at all.
The important thing is that they all do believe;
the most compelling truth of all.
Saturday, July 18, 2015
BOTH
I opened two patients to hospice today; both being female in their early nineties. Coincidentally, they lived about two miles away from each other. Both were widowed over twenty years and had, previously, been living alone.
Each was diagnosed three months ago; one with lung disease while the other cardiac. Both have been in a decline to where each is much weaker and losing weight due to a poor appetite. "Dot", ninety-four; was hospitalized two months ago. Her family and the doctors thought she would die while in the hospital. Dot prevailed to where she was able to return home. Dot was very wobbly on her feet with poor vision and not safe to be alone.
Dot's daughter, "Jess", lives about an hour away. Due to Jess's husband's health issues, she cannot come around as often as needed. Dot's family hired twenty-four hour attendant care. Dot has the funds to pay for the help she needs. Dot tells herself, and others, that her attendant is really just a companion. Although a struggle, Dot is determined to do housework saying she cleans one room each day.
Dot was dressed very fashionably wearing pink boots with heels to match her pink outfit. Dot walked slowly holding onto the furniture as she maneuvered around in her home. She was in denial regarding her limitations. I respect Dot's independent personality, but also know that she could put herself at risk if she had it her way.
On the other hand, "Myra", ninety-two, has totally accepted her limitations. She, too, is very weak and in a decline. She told her daughter and myself, "I am ready to go." She wished she lived in Oregon where they have the "Right to Die" legislation. I informed Myra that hospice neither shortens nor lengthens life. When it is your time, you will let go.
Both women have daughters who care. Both daughters are feeling helpless in their ability to do something for their mother. One mother wants to go while the other won't let go. Neither is wrong nor right, although both have some challenging times ahead. I wish both women and their families the best. There is not much else one can do.
BOTH
They both are in their nineties.
Each widowed over twenty years.
Both had been living alone
until a recent decline in their health.
One; her daughter has moved in
while the other now has 24/7 attendant care.
Both needing the extra help;
one with total acceptance; the other not so.
She told her daughter, "I am ready to go."
Through tears, her daughter said she understood.
She will give her mother permission to go
as knows her quality of life is no more.
The other, though, is fighting her decline.
She feels she is okay on her own.
She needs help, but is determined to do it alone.
She is angry at her daughter for hiring the help.
I respect independence.
I admire the courage of letting go.
We only walk this walk one time.
Neither family,
I am sure,
not surprised at all.
Each was diagnosed three months ago; one with lung disease while the other cardiac. Both have been in a decline to where each is much weaker and losing weight due to a poor appetite. "Dot", ninety-four; was hospitalized two months ago. Her family and the doctors thought she would die while in the hospital. Dot prevailed to where she was able to return home. Dot was very wobbly on her feet with poor vision and not safe to be alone.
Dot's daughter, "Jess", lives about an hour away. Due to Jess's husband's health issues, she cannot come around as often as needed. Dot's family hired twenty-four hour attendant care. Dot has the funds to pay for the help she needs. Dot tells herself, and others, that her attendant is really just a companion. Although a struggle, Dot is determined to do housework saying she cleans one room each day.
Dot was dressed very fashionably wearing pink boots with heels to match her pink outfit. Dot walked slowly holding onto the furniture as she maneuvered around in her home. She was in denial regarding her limitations. I respect Dot's independent personality, but also know that she could put herself at risk if she had it her way.
On the other hand, "Myra", ninety-two, has totally accepted her limitations. She, too, is very weak and in a decline. She told her daughter and myself, "I am ready to go." She wished she lived in Oregon where they have the "Right to Die" legislation. I informed Myra that hospice neither shortens nor lengthens life. When it is your time, you will let go.
Both women have daughters who care. Both daughters are feeling helpless in their ability to do something for their mother. One mother wants to go while the other won't let go. Neither is wrong nor right, although both have some challenging times ahead. I wish both women and their families the best. There is not much else one can do.
BOTH
They both are in their nineties.
Each widowed over twenty years.
Both had been living alone
until a recent decline in their health.
One; her daughter has moved in
while the other now has 24/7 attendant care.
Both needing the extra help;
one with total acceptance; the other not so.
She told her daughter, "I am ready to go."
Through tears, her daughter said she understood.
She will give her mother permission to go
as knows her quality of life is no more.
The other, though, is fighting her decline.
She feels she is okay on her own.
She needs help, but is determined to do it alone.
She is angry at her daughter for hiring the help.
I respect independence.
I admire the courage of letting go.
We only walk this walk one time.
Neither family,
I am sure,
not surprised at all.
Saturday, July 11, 2015
THE COWBOY
"Flo", seventy-eight, suffers from lung cancer and dementia. Flo lives with her husband of fifty-eight years, "Robert". Flo and Robert live on a large ranch. The family loves horses. Throughout their life, they have participated in rodeos and many horse races. Robert worked at a nearby horse ranch for many years.
The couple have three adult children; who all live nearby. One sees many photos displayed in their family room. Each photo shows a family member with a horse. Horses are a big part of this family.
Flo has been in a two week decline to where she no longer can walk and is much weaker. In addition, she is getting more confused. Her appetite is down and she is sleeping more. Flo's doctor made a referral to hospice due to her recent changes.
The hospice nurse and I went out to meet with Flo and her family. The family's ranch is way out in the country. There are a few ranches nearby. Their property is pretty isolated, which Robert loves.
Flo didn't participate in the visit due to her confusion. When one first meets Robert, he presents pretty rough and tough. He was angry that Flo wouldn't try harder. Robert speaks what is on his mind and loves it when others are straight with him. He may say that Flo should try harder, but if you present him with reality, his face becomes very emotional as he understands it is her disease that is limiting her abilities to handle many of her daily tasks.
Robert says his best medicine is riding his horses on the ranch. Robert's daughter, "Penny", says that her dad has always wanted to be in control. Flo's dying is something he cannot control and it is breaking his heart. He presents like a tough guy, but his huge heart shines through. Penny says her parents always have bickered and teased each other. Robert showing his tough side is a lot easier for him as he can then shake off his true emotions.
I was able to communicate with Robert some reality, which was difficult for him. He thanked me for coming and said it did help him. I felt honored as he said, "You are in my circle." He said that was a good thing as not many can get in. His toughness may show, but his huge heart shines through along with his strong love for Flo.
THE COWBOY
He presents rough and tough.
Riding his horses;
walking his ranch.
He loves being outdoors.
Now his heart is breaking.
He doesn't know what to do.
He wants to manage things,
but that is not working well at all.
He is trying to regain some control.
It has always worked for him before.
Somehow it is so much easier
to handle his horses on the ranch.
He has always been a straight shooter.
He appreciates it if you are the same.
If you present him with reality,
he'll tear up and know it is so.
He'll help her the best way he knows.
He'll get angry along the way.
Trying to control the situation,
then go outdoors to settle down;
to ride his horse.
The Cowboy.
The couple have three adult children; who all live nearby. One sees many photos displayed in their family room. Each photo shows a family member with a horse. Horses are a big part of this family.
Flo has been in a two week decline to where she no longer can walk and is much weaker. In addition, she is getting more confused. Her appetite is down and she is sleeping more. Flo's doctor made a referral to hospice due to her recent changes.
The hospice nurse and I went out to meet with Flo and her family. The family's ranch is way out in the country. There are a few ranches nearby. Their property is pretty isolated, which Robert loves.
Flo didn't participate in the visit due to her confusion. When one first meets Robert, he presents pretty rough and tough. He was angry that Flo wouldn't try harder. Robert speaks what is on his mind and loves it when others are straight with him. He may say that Flo should try harder, but if you present him with reality, his face becomes very emotional as he understands it is her disease that is limiting her abilities to handle many of her daily tasks.
Robert says his best medicine is riding his horses on the ranch. Robert's daughter, "Penny", says that her dad has always wanted to be in control. Flo's dying is something he cannot control and it is breaking his heart. He presents like a tough guy, but his huge heart shines through. Penny says her parents always have bickered and teased each other. Robert showing his tough side is a lot easier for him as he can then shake off his true emotions.
I was able to communicate with Robert some reality, which was difficult for him. He thanked me for coming and said it did help him. I felt honored as he said, "You are in my circle." He said that was a good thing as not many can get in. His toughness may show, but his huge heart shines through along with his strong love for Flo.
THE COWBOY
He presents rough and tough.
Riding his horses;
walking his ranch.
He loves being outdoors.
Now his heart is breaking.
He doesn't know what to do.
He wants to manage things,
but that is not working well at all.
He is trying to regain some control.
It has always worked for him before.
Somehow it is so much easier
to handle his horses on the ranch.
He has always been a straight shooter.
He appreciates it if you are the same.
If you present him with reality,
he'll tear up and know it is so.
He'll help her the best way he knows.
He'll get angry along the way.
Trying to control the situation,
then go outdoors to settle down;
to ride his horse.
The Cowboy.
Saturday, July 4, 2015
WHEN?
"Margaret", ninety-three, has been residing in a Board and Care home for three years. She had been fairly active and was able to manage many of her needs. She walked with a walker, had a great appetite and enjoyed her days. She has a very large room with an even larger window facing out to the front garden. Margaret has a hummingbird feeder right outside her window. One of her greatest pleasures was watching the birds feed. In addition, Margaret spent a lot of her day working jigsaw puzzles. Several of her favorite puzzles were displayed on the walls of her bedroom.
Two months ago, Margaret suffered a stroke which left her right side paralyzed. She no longer can walk and needs the staff to maneuver her around in her wheelchair. Margaret's eyesight is failing along with her hearing. One has to speak loudly in order for her to hear what you are saying.
Margaret is widowed and has three children. Her daughter, "Annie", lives nearby and visits every other day. Her two other children live out of the area with infrequent visits due to geographic distance. Margaret doesn't like to be alone as feels so helpless when no one is around. Annie has arranged for visitors to come on the days she cannot be there.
Margaret has a long history of anxiety. Margaret's anxiety was triggered by the hospice nurse and my visit. She thought hospice would prolong her life. Margaret is forgetful and. with the limited hearing, struggled at times to keep up with the conversation. Margaret kept asking the nurse and I how long does she have. She wanted an exact date.
Margaret has no religious belief and feels once someone dies, there is no afterlife. She has no fears about dying at all. She just feels miserable with all of her limitations. She kept asking why she was still here, how long does she have or will hospice be prolonging her life?
Seeing Margaret struggle so, makes me also question why does she, or anyone, have to suffer. I believe we are all here until it is our time to go. I would like to think Margaret has one final lesson for us. Or, on the other hand, one more lesson to learn. I hope with hospice's support, she will find comfort and peace.
WHEN?
"When will this be over?
Why do I have to live this way?"
So many difficult questions
with no satisfactory answers.
Her eyesight is failing.
She struggles to hear what is being said.
No longer able to do those things
which gave her life such pleasure.
She misses doing jigsaw puzzles;
watching the hummingbirds outside;
her favorite shows; enjoying a meal.
No quality of life left for her.
She has no fears about dying.
She is ready for it to come.
She believes once it is over, it is over.
There is nothing more.
With rising anxiety and frustration,
she pleaded with us to help her.
"I want to be invisible; I am done.
How much longer do I have?
When?"
Two months ago, Margaret suffered a stroke which left her right side paralyzed. She no longer can walk and needs the staff to maneuver her around in her wheelchair. Margaret's eyesight is failing along with her hearing. One has to speak loudly in order for her to hear what you are saying.
Margaret is widowed and has three children. Her daughter, "Annie", lives nearby and visits every other day. Her two other children live out of the area with infrequent visits due to geographic distance. Margaret doesn't like to be alone as feels so helpless when no one is around. Annie has arranged for visitors to come on the days she cannot be there.
Margaret has a long history of anxiety. Margaret's anxiety was triggered by the hospice nurse and my visit. She thought hospice would prolong her life. Margaret is forgetful and. with the limited hearing, struggled at times to keep up with the conversation. Margaret kept asking the nurse and I how long does she have. She wanted an exact date.
Margaret has no religious belief and feels once someone dies, there is no afterlife. She has no fears about dying at all. She just feels miserable with all of her limitations. She kept asking why she was still here, how long does she have or will hospice be prolonging her life?
Seeing Margaret struggle so, makes me also question why does she, or anyone, have to suffer. I believe we are all here until it is our time to go. I would like to think Margaret has one final lesson for us. Or, on the other hand, one more lesson to learn. I hope with hospice's support, she will find comfort and peace.
WHEN?
"When will this be over?
Why do I have to live this way?"
So many difficult questions
with no satisfactory answers.
Her eyesight is failing.
She struggles to hear what is being said.
No longer able to do those things
which gave her life such pleasure.
She misses doing jigsaw puzzles;
watching the hummingbirds outside;
her favorite shows; enjoying a meal.
No quality of life left for her.
She has no fears about dying.
She is ready for it to come.
She believes once it is over, it is over.
There is nothing more.
With rising anxiety and frustration,
she pleaded with us to help her.
"I want to be invisible; I am done.
How much longer do I have?
When?"
Sunday, June 28, 2015
TO DO ALONE
“Flora”, ninety-one, suffers from dementia. Flora lives in an assisted living facility as she needs help with all of her daily needs. Flora is widowed and has two children. Her son, “Ted”, lives locally but not able to visit. Ted suffered a stroke six months ago and was hospitalized for several months. He recently contracted scabies at a nursing facility. He is now homebound; quarantined because of his illness. Before he became sick, Ted and his wife would visit Flora several times each week. In addition, Flora has a daughter, “Leslie”, who lives two states away.
Flora has been in a recent decline to where she is becoming much weaker and eating less. Flora needs to be fed as she has forgotten how to feed herself. She is on a pureed diet as coughs easily when eating solid food. Due to her weakness, Flora spends most of her days in her wheelchair or recliner. Flora no longer talks and does not recognize her family.
Due to Flora’s recent decline, the hospice nurse and I went out to admit Flora to our hospice program. Leslie was able to sign all of the appropriate paperwork and fax it back to our hospice office. I spoke with Leslie on the phone during the admission. It was during that phone call when she shared her mother’s belief about the dying process.
Leslie says it is hard as her mother no longer knows who they are, but then, she would like to visit. I told Leslie to do what her heart dictates. She is in a dilemma as wants to visit; but then wants to do things the way her mother would want her to do things. Leslie feels, that if her mother were aware, she would not want her family to come. Leslie has good support and does reach out to her friends. Leslie also shared that she loves to knit, which gives her comfort.
People die the way they live. No one really knows how much Flora understands. Leslie is trying to do the right thing. I wish all of this family the best. They have had some difficult times recently. I hope all get the support they need.
TO DO ALONE
You walk in and immediately see her.
Eyes closed, but not sleeping.
Others sitting around, not interacting.
She in her recliner; all alone.
She looks content and comfortable.
She has such a sweet, kind face.
She no longer remembers much;
how to eat; how to dress; how to talk.
Her son lives nearby,
but unable to come around.
Quarantined with an infection.
Isolated in his own home.
Her daughter lives two states away.
She speaks with the staff each day.
Wanting an update on how mom is doing.
Knowing she is in a persistent decline.
She'd like to visit more,
but knows to stay at home
as her mother always told her,
"Dying is something
you have to do alone."
Flora has been in a recent decline to where she is becoming much weaker and eating less. Flora needs to be fed as she has forgotten how to feed herself. She is on a pureed diet as coughs easily when eating solid food. Due to her weakness, Flora spends most of her days in her wheelchair or recliner. Flora no longer talks and does not recognize her family.
Due to Flora’s recent decline, the hospice nurse and I went out to admit Flora to our hospice program. Leslie was able to sign all of the appropriate paperwork and fax it back to our hospice office. I spoke with Leslie on the phone during the admission. It was during that phone call when she shared her mother’s belief about the dying process.
Leslie says it is hard as her mother no longer knows who they are, but then, she would like to visit. I told Leslie to do what her heart dictates. She is in a dilemma as wants to visit; but then wants to do things the way her mother would want her to do things. Leslie feels, that if her mother were aware, she would not want her family to come. Leslie has good support and does reach out to her friends. Leslie also shared that she loves to knit, which gives her comfort.
People die the way they live. No one really knows how much Flora understands. Leslie is trying to do the right thing. I wish all of this family the best. They have had some difficult times recently. I hope all get the support they need.
TO DO ALONE
You walk in and immediately see her.
Eyes closed, but not sleeping.
Others sitting around, not interacting.
She in her recliner; all alone.
She looks content and comfortable.
She has such a sweet, kind face.
She no longer remembers much;
how to eat; how to dress; how to talk.
Her son lives nearby,
but unable to come around.
Quarantined with an infection.
Isolated in his own home.
Her daughter lives two states away.
She speaks with the staff each day.
Wanting an update on how mom is doing.
Knowing she is in a persistent decline.
She'd like to visit more,
but knows to stay at home
as her mother always told her,
"Dying is something
you have to do alone."
Saturday, June 20, 2015
LIFE'S LOSSES
Ninety-seven year old "Amanda" has been in a recent decline. She has no remarkable health diagnosis, but is just becoming weaker and weary. Where three months ago, she was able to ambulate with her walker, now she is wheelchair bound. Her granddaughter, "Susan", her primary caretaker, states that her grandmother's appetite is half of what it once was. Susan added that, day by day, her grandmother is getting weaker and needing more help.
The hospice nurse and I went out to meet with Susan and Amanda. Amanda was sitting in her bedroom at a table by the window looking outside. She has lost most of her vision and can only see shadows, but stated that she enjoys sitting there. She was so happy for hospice to come as it means she is dying. Amanda is so ready to go. She is tired of living this way; being dependent and in pain. Amanda has arthritis in her hips and knees which causes her pain with any movement.
Amanda will talk about her life and the many losses she has endured. She has outlived two husbands and both of her children. Forty years ago, Susan was scarred from a house fire. Susan said that eight members of the family were in the home that caught fire from a faulty water heater that exploded. Susan's mother and grandfather both died in that fire.
Susan shared that her only family remaining is her grandmother, along with her own daughter and two grandchildren. Susan so understands what a gift life is and how suddenly it can all be taken away. She also understands her grandmother's wish for it all to be over. Amanda kept questioning why she was still here at age ninety-seven. Susan says her grandmother is angry at God, but Amanda feels that once your dead, you are just dead.
Through all of Amanda's sharing of her life and losses, she would easily smile. Amanda had a quick wit and had a great sense of humor. I believe, with this family's history of tragedy, has made the survivors appreciate and cherish life much more. I also believe Amanda's sense of humor might have been a great asset in how she and her granddaughter have coped over the years.
I wish the best for Amanda and her granddaughter. I smile when I think of Amanda. Her legacy is not about loss, but about surviving with grace and humor. There is no better legacy.
LIFE’S LOSSES
She’s had so many losses
in her ninety-seven years.
More than any one person
should ever have to endure.
A water heater explosion
and horrific house fire years ago;
killing her husband and only daughter.
Lifelong scars; some hidden, others not.
Her granddaughter now her caretaker.
Visible scars on her hands and face.
Devoted and dedicated to her grandmother.
Understanding the precious gift of life.
Seven years ago her only son dying from cancer.
She feels it should have been her.
She is now blind, dependent and in pain.
"Why am I living so long like this?"
She has no major disability.
Her body is just wearing out.
In spite of what life has dealt her,
she will easily smile with a quick wit.
One moment, she'll make us all laugh.
The next, she'll question her life.
She wants things to happen quickly.
She is done and ready to go.
Enough of
life's losses.
The hospice nurse and I went out to meet with Susan and Amanda. Amanda was sitting in her bedroom at a table by the window looking outside. She has lost most of her vision and can only see shadows, but stated that she enjoys sitting there. She was so happy for hospice to come as it means she is dying. Amanda is so ready to go. She is tired of living this way; being dependent and in pain. Amanda has arthritis in her hips and knees which causes her pain with any movement.
Amanda will talk about her life and the many losses she has endured. She has outlived two husbands and both of her children. Forty years ago, Susan was scarred from a house fire. Susan said that eight members of the family were in the home that caught fire from a faulty water heater that exploded. Susan's mother and grandfather both died in that fire.
Susan shared that her only family remaining is her grandmother, along with her own daughter and two grandchildren. Susan so understands what a gift life is and how suddenly it can all be taken away. She also understands her grandmother's wish for it all to be over. Amanda kept questioning why she was still here at age ninety-seven. Susan says her grandmother is angry at God, but Amanda feels that once your dead, you are just dead.
Through all of Amanda's sharing of her life and losses, she would easily smile. Amanda had a quick wit and had a great sense of humor. I believe, with this family's history of tragedy, has made the survivors appreciate and cherish life much more. I also believe Amanda's sense of humor might have been a great asset in how she and her granddaughter have coped over the years.
I wish the best for Amanda and her granddaughter. I smile when I think of Amanda. Her legacy is not about loss, but about surviving with grace and humor. There is no better legacy.
LIFE’S LOSSES
She’s had so many losses
in her ninety-seven years.
More than any one person
should ever have to endure.
A water heater explosion
and horrific house fire years ago;
killing her husband and only daughter.
Lifelong scars; some hidden, others not.
Her granddaughter now her caretaker.
Visible scars on her hands and face.
Devoted and dedicated to her grandmother.
Understanding the precious gift of life.
Seven years ago her only son dying from cancer.
She feels it should have been her.
She is now blind, dependent and in pain.
"Why am I living so long like this?"
She has no major disability.
Her body is just wearing out.
In spite of what life has dealt her,
she will easily smile with a quick wit.
One moment, she'll make us all laugh.
The next, she'll question her life.
She wants things to happen quickly.
She is done and ready to go.
Enough of
life's losses.
Saturday, June 13, 2015
SO ALONE
We received a hospice referral today for “Carl”, a sixty-five year old gentleman suffering from end stage cardiac disease. In addition, Carl suffers from dementia and is confused. He was just released from the hospital and transferred to a Skilled Nursing Facility. Carl has no family or friends. The Public Guardian’s Office manages Carl’s affairs.
The hospice nurse and I went out to admit Carl to hospice. Carl was lying in a single room all alone. He was lying on his side with his eyes open. He appeared much older than his years. He is on a feeding tube and uses oxygen. He did not talk or respond at all when the nurse was examining him.
Carl has a highly contagious infection. The hospice nurse had to put on a gown, gloves and mask in order to go in. Gowning up adds another layer of separation. I stood outside by the doorway watching the nurse to see how or if Carl would respond. He continued to lie there with no reaction at all.
This was a late afternoon admission and I was unable to speak with Carl’s Public Guardian as he was gone for the day. I had so many questions about Carl and his life. Did he wish for his life to end so alone this way? Would he want a loved one by his side? I felt such sadness for him. We are social beings and dying is such an unknown journey as we all only do it once. Does he wish to spend his remaining time alone?
Carl's quality of life is so diminished. Would he want a feeding tube that may prolong his life? Sometimes death is not the worse option. I wish him peace and hope that he finds his perfection when he crosses over to the other side.
SO ALONE
He has no family that we are aware.
There are no friends who come and visit.
The Public Guardian’s Office manages things.
He is isolated and so alone.
Did he push his family away?
Is there anyone who really cares?
Was he a loner; a hermit;
did he choose to be so alone?
Now he just lies there with his eyes open.
He doesn’t respond or speak at all.
He has a feeding tube that gives him nourishment;
oxygen to help him breathe.
The nursing staff takes care of his physical needs.
They treat him with compassion and show their concern.
Is he uncomfortable with them fussing about?
Would he rather be just left alone?
There are those of us who like our solitude.
There are those who relish privacy.
Somehow, though, it seems a bit scary,
when one is dying
to be so alone.
I hope he can feel our compassion.
I hope he knows that there are many who do care.
I’d like to think he will be surrounded by love
when it is his time to go to the other side;
to be never again left
so alone.
The hospice nurse and I went out to admit Carl to hospice. Carl was lying in a single room all alone. He was lying on his side with his eyes open. He appeared much older than his years. He is on a feeding tube and uses oxygen. He did not talk or respond at all when the nurse was examining him.
Carl has a highly contagious infection. The hospice nurse had to put on a gown, gloves and mask in order to go in. Gowning up adds another layer of separation. I stood outside by the doorway watching the nurse to see how or if Carl would respond. He continued to lie there with no reaction at all.
This was a late afternoon admission and I was unable to speak with Carl’s Public Guardian as he was gone for the day. I had so many questions about Carl and his life. Did he wish for his life to end so alone this way? Would he want a loved one by his side? I felt such sadness for him. We are social beings and dying is such an unknown journey as we all only do it once. Does he wish to spend his remaining time alone?
Carl's quality of life is so diminished. Would he want a feeding tube that may prolong his life? Sometimes death is not the worse option. I wish him peace and hope that he finds his perfection when he crosses over to the other side.
SO ALONE
He has no family that we are aware.
There are no friends who come and visit.
The Public Guardian’s Office manages things.
He is isolated and so alone.
Did he push his family away?
Is there anyone who really cares?
Was he a loner; a hermit;
did he choose to be so alone?
Now he just lies there with his eyes open.
He doesn’t respond or speak at all.
He has a feeding tube that gives him nourishment;
oxygen to help him breathe.
The nursing staff takes care of his physical needs.
They treat him with compassion and show their concern.
Is he uncomfortable with them fussing about?
Would he rather be just left alone?
There are those of us who like our solitude.
There are those who relish privacy.
Somehow, though, it seems a bit scary,
when one is dying
to be so alone.
I hope he can feel our compassion.
I hope he knows that there are many who do care.
I’d like to think he will be surrounded by love
when it is his time to go to the other side;
to be never again left
so alone.
Friday, June 5, 2015
DAY BY DAY
“Leonard”, eighty-seven, was diagnosed with lung cancer four months ago. The cancer has already spread to his spine. In addition, he suffers from dementia. Leonard lives with “June”, his wife of sixty-four years. They had four sons. Their youngest son died forty-five years ago in a motor vehicle accident.
In addition, their eldest son, “Leonard, Jr”, suffered brain damage from a tractor accident two years before his younger brother‘s death. It was the summer before Leonard, Jr's Senior year in high school. June said that Leonard, Jr, was an amazing baseball player. The New York Yankees were scouting him. The Yankees were willing to wait until he graduated from high school. After the accident, Leonard was in a coma for months. June said there was no rehab in those days so she brought her son home. She cared for her son for years. Leonard now lives nearby in an Assisted Living Center.
Leonard, Sr. was admitted to hospice as he has been in a rapid decline since his new diagnosis of lung cancer. He is eating very little and is very weak. Fortunately for June, her son, “Lou”, lives with her and is available to help. Lou was a chef by trade. A few years ago, Lou was cooking at a charity function. While helping set up, a pallet of food fell against him causing a severe back injury. Due to pain, it is difficult for him to stand up for any length of time. He is now on disability.
In spite of all the tragedy this family has endured, both Lou and June have such positive attitudes toward life. They each look at the love and the faith that they have. While June was sharing all of these losses with me, I would ask her how does she cope with it all. Her answer was always the same, “Day by day.”
June is a prime example of a tough spirit and a soft heart. Her strong faith along with the love of her family is what keeps her going. I admire her spunk and her spirit.
DAY BY DAY
He was diagnosed four months ago.
His decline has been swift.
He’s not eating much at all now.
She knows it won’t be long.
Tragedy has hit two of their sons.
A third is disabled, but able to help.
So many losses during one lifetime.
She says she copes, “Day by day.”
She has an amazing spirit.
Her family is right by her side.
The tough times have made them stronger,
“We are closer now than ever before.”
She has such a strong faith.
She knows he will be with God.
It gives her comfort; it gives her peace;
it helps her cope,
“Day by day.”
In addition, their eldest son, “Leonard, Jr”, suffered brain damage from a tractor accident two years before his younger brother‘s death. It was the summer before Leonard, Jr's Senior year in high school. June said that Leonard, Jr, was an amazing baseball player. The New York Yankees were scouting him. The Yankees were willing to wait until he graduated from high school. After the accident, Leonard was in a coma for months. June said there was no rehab in those days so she brought her son home. She cared for her son for years. Leonard now lives nearby in an Assisted Living Center.
Leonard, Sr. was admitted to hospice as he has been in a rapid decline since his new diagnosis of lung cancer. He is eating very little and is very weak. Fortunately for June, her son, “Lou”, lives with her and is available to help. Lou was a chef by trade. A few years ago, Lou was cooking at a charity function. While helping set up, a pallet of food fell against him causing a severe back injury. Due to pain, it is difficult for him to stand up for any length of time. He is now on disability.
In spite of all the tragedy this family has endured, both Lou and June have such positive attitudes toward life. They each look at the love and the faith that they have. While June was sharing all of these losses with me, I would ask her how does she cope with it all. Her answer was always the same, “Day by day.”
June is a prime example of a tough spirit and a soft heart. Her strong faith along with the love of her family is what keeps her going. I admire her spunk and her spirit.
DAY BY DAY
He was diagnosed four months ago.
His decline has been swift.
He’s not eating much at all now.
She knows it won’t be long.
Tragedy has hit two of their sons.
A third is disabled, but able to help.
So many losses during one lifetime.
She says she copes, “Day by day.”
She has an amazing spirit.
Her family is right by her side.
The tough times have made them stronger,
“We are closer now than ever before.”
She has such a strong faith.
She knows he will be with God.
It gives her comfort; it gives her peace;
it helps her cope,
“Day by day.”
Saturday, May 30, 2015
RIGHT OR WRONG?
When admitting a new patient to our hospice program, the hospice nurse and I, as the social worker, both receive paperwork indicating the patient's address, diagnosis, contact people etc. Our intake nurse is very thorough, detailed and meticulous when completing the paperwork. She rarely gets anything wrong. Typically the admission nurse gets the original paperwork while the admission social worker gets a copy of it all.
I was to meet, “Agnes” and her niece, “Rita” at a nursing home, where Agnes has been for ten days. Agnes is eighty-nine years old and suffers from cardiac disease. She has been in a recent decline to where she has stopped eating.
I noticed the name of a Residential Care Facility on my paperwork as well, but followed my GPS directions to the Nursing Home. I walked into the lobby and met Agnes, her niece, Rita and nephew, “Matt”. The three of them were sitting in the lobby waiting to get discharge papers from the nursing home staff. The family were so anxious to get Agnes back home to her Residential Care Facility.
Rita shared that she has all of Agnes’s belongings in her car and they have been waiting patiently for quite a while. Agnes was getting tired sitting in her wheelchair. They were waiting for Agnes’s doctor to fax the discharge orders to the nursing home.
I went up to the nurses station and asked about the status of the paperwork. The nurse said that they were waiting for a fax from the doctor’s office. I told her that I was going to call the doctor’s office to try to hurry things along. She then said she would call. She spoke with someone who informed her that they would leave a message for the doctor.
In the end, I got busy gathering the appropriate paperwork and getting copies of what Agnes’s Residential Care Facility needed before she was to return home. We were able to get Agnes into her niece’s car and be at her home within the hour.
Rita was so frustrated by all of the delays. She said I was meant to come to the nursing home. They had planned on being at the Residential Care Facility, where Agnes has lived for two years and considers home, for our admission visit two hours prior. Rita said that I was guided from above. She was so grateful and gave me a big tight hug.
Once we got Agnes home, Rita gave a big sigh of relief. When the admission nurse showed up at the Residential Care Facility, her paperwork had the correct address. My paperwork somehow directed me to where the family was waiting. I had the opportunity to speedup the process for getting Agnes home. Whatever the reason, I am so glad it happened the way it did.
RIGHT OR WRONG?
I went to the wrong address.
I followed what she wrote.
She is very meticulous and careful.
Rarely gets anything wrong.
The family was sitting in the lobby.
They were waiting to discharge her home.
She was stressed by the slow process.
I pitched in and got things moving.
I followed them to her home.
She’s been away for two weeks.
A sigh of relief on her niece’s face
as they helped put her to bed.
“Thank you so much for your help.
I can breathe again.
You were meant to be there.
You were guided from above.”
The address may have been wrong,
but I went to the right place.
Spirituality, fate, coincidence.
It doesn’t really matter how.
Right or wrong?
The most important thing of all is
I ended up where
I was needed to be.
I was to meet, “Agnes” and her niece, “Rita” at a nursing home, where Agnes has been for ten days. Agnes is eighty-nine years old and suffers from cardiac disease. She has been in a recent decline to where she has stopped eating.
I noticed the name of a Residential Care Facility on my paperwork as well, but followed my GPS directions to the Nursing Home. I walked into the lobby and met Agnes, her niece, Rita and nephew, “Matt”. The three of them were sitting in the lobby waiting to get discharge papers from the nursing home staff. The family were so anxious to get Agnes back home to her Residential Care Facility.
Rita shared that she has all of Agnes’s belongings in her car and they have been waiting patiently for quite a while. Agnes was getting tired sitting in her wheelchair. They were waiting for Agnes’s doctor to fax the discharge orders to the nursing home.
I went up to the nurses station and asked about the status of the paperwork. The nurse said that they were waiting for a fax from the doctor’s office. I told her that I was going to call the doctor’s office to try to hurry things along. She then said she would call. She spoke with someone who informed her that they would leave a message for the doctor.
In the end, I got busy gathering the appropriate paperwork and getting copies of what Agnes’s Residential Care Facility needed before she was to return home. We were able to get Agnes into her niece’s car and be at her home within the hour.
Rita was so frustrated by all of the delays. She said I was meant to come to the nursing home. They had planned on being at the Residential Care Facility, where Agnes has lived for two years and considers home, for our admission visit two hours prior. Rita said that I was guided from above. She was so grateful and gave me a big tight hug.
Once we got Agnes home, Rita gave a big sigh of relief. When the admission nurse showed up at the Residential Care Facility, her paperwork had the correct address. My paperwork somehow directed me to where the family was waiting. I had the opportunity to speedup the process for getting Agnes home. Whatever the reason, I am so glad it happened the way it did.
RIGHT OR WRONG?
I went to the wrong address.
I followed what she wrote.
She is very meticulous and careful.
Rarely gets anything wrong.
The family was sitting in the lobby.
They were waiting to discharge her home.
She was stressed by the slow process.
I pitched in and got things moving.
I followed them to her home.
She’s been away for two weeks.
A sigh of relief on her niece’s face
as they helped put her to bed.
“Thank you so much for your help.
I can breathe again.
You were meant to be there.
You were guided from above.”
The address may have been wrong,
but I went to the right place.
Spirituality, fate, coincidence.
It doesn’t really matter how.
Right or wrong?
The most important thing of all is
I ended up where
I was needed to be.
Saturday, May 23, 2015
VETERANS
Each Memorial Day, our hospice presents the veterans on our program with a package containing a flag, a pin, a plaque and a card thanking them for their service. The hospice staff presents the packages to their own patients. After the staff left for the day, there were three remaining packages. I had time this afternoon and offered to deliver the remaining three bags.
Coincidently, two of the bags were for patients in the same Assisted Living Environment. The remaining bag was for "Alton", a patient I had met two weeks before when he was admitted to our hospice program. Alton lived about a mile away from the other two patients in another Assisted Living Center. I had met Alton's four children at the admission visit as well. Making this delivery felt special as I had connected with this wonderful and supportive family.
I walked into the facility and informed the staff that I was there to see Alton. The clerk told me that Alton had died two days ago. I wasn't aware as had not heard about his death. Being the admission social worker, I see so many patients only one time. Often I will hear about a death and recognize the name, but cannot connect the name with the patient.
The clerk informed me that Alton's four children were in the conference room and were ready to leave. The family were so pleased when I informed them about the purpose of my visit. Alton's son spoke of displaying the plaque at his father's memorial. The plaque had Alton's name thanking him for his military service. It felt good to be able to complete the circle with Alton's family. It was a special honor to be a part.
VETERANS
Hospice salutes our veterans.
We keep track of who they are.
Every Memorial Day we honor them
with a flag; a plaque; a pin; a card.
The staff handles the deliveries.
They thank each and every one
for their service; their sacrifices;
keeping our country free.
I was able to help out.
He was my first stop of the day.
I had met him and his family two weeks before,
making it much more special to me.
The staff told me he died two days ago.
I was surprised as I wasn't aware.
She said his family is in the conference room,
but they are about ready to leave.
I was able to thank him through them.
They were touched by the recognition.
They talked about his memorial.
How the plaque now would be on display.
Veterans are proud of their service.
His memorial will capture it all.
It all flowed so perfectly.
Somehow I know,
he was involved.
Coincidently, two of the bags were for patients in the same Assisted Living Environment. The remaining bag was for "Alton", a patient I had met two weeks before when he was admitted to our hospice program. Alton lived about a mile away from the other two patients in another Assisted Living Center. I had met Alton's four children at the admission visit as well. Making this delivery felt special as I had connected with this wonderful and supportive family.
I walked into the facility and informed the staff that I was there to see Alton. The clerk told me that Alton had died two days ago. I wasn't aware as had not heard about his death. Being the admission social worker, I see so many patients only one time. Often I will hear about a death and recognize the name, but cannot connect the name with the patient.
The clerk informed me that Alton's four children were in the conference room and were ready to leave. The family were so pleased when I informed them about the purpose of my visit. Alton's son spoke of displaying the plaque at his father's memorial. The plaque had Alton's name thanking him for his military service. It felt good to be able to complete the circle with Alton's family. It was a special honor to be a part.
VETERANS
Hospice salutes our veterans.
We keep track of who they are.
Every Memorial Day we honor them
with a flag; a plaque; a pin; a card.
The staff handles the deliveries.
They thank each and every one
for their service; their sacrifices;
keeping our country free.
I was able to help out.
He was my first stop of the day.
I had met him and his family two weeks before,
making it much more special to me.
The staff told me he died two days ago.
I was surprised as I wasn't aware.
She said his family is in the conference room,
but they are about ready to leave.
I was able to thank him through them.
They were touched by the recognition.
They talked about his memorial.
How the plaque now would be on display.
Veterans are proud of their service.
His memorial will capture it all.
It all flowed so perfectly.
Somehow I know,
he was involved.
Saturday, May 16, 2015
SOBER
“Sally”, eighty years old, suffers from end stage dementia and cardiac disease. Sally had been living in a skilled nursing facility with around-the-clock care, when she took a dramatic decline. Sally is widowed and has three children. The three of them decided to bring mom back home. The plan was for her youngest daughter, “Bette”, to fly out from Minnesota to care for her mother.
Sally's other daughter and son live nearby, but have full time jobs. Bette is on disability from a lung injury while serving in the Marines. She offered to fly out to care for her mom while her siblings worked. Her siblings will help out on the weekends to give Bette a break.
I first met Bette and Sally the previous day when Sally was still in the skilled nursing facility. Sally was to be discharged home later that day. Bette was nervous about being able to care for her mom properly. I went out to their home the next day to check in and see how they both were doing. Bette was so gentle caring for her mom. Sally looked happy to be home. She was lying in her hospital bed in the living room with Bette sitting by her side holding her hand.
It was then that Bette told me about her drinking. She says she had been drinking for thirty years. She stops; goes through withdrawal, drinks again; withdrawal, and the cycled continued. She shared that she had been sober for thirty-one days; pointing to her bible and other religious books; adding that her spirituality is what will keep her sober.
Sally was on hospice for only twelve days when she passed away. Bette was sitting by her mother, holding her hand, when she took her last breath. Today, two days later, Bette started to drink. She called our hospice office for help. She was so ashamed and embarrassed, but was receptive to a visit.
Bette was able to rant and rave while processing her thoughts. I reassured her that she did a beautiful job caring for her mother. In the end, I listened and validated Bette's feelings. I also guided her toward her solution for help. I left resources for her along with a hot-line for her to call if needed. Sally said she would call her brother, who has been sober for eight years. I wish her all the best and hope she is able to reach out and remain sober utilizing the supports she has available to her.
SOBER
She has the biggest heart of all.
She flew here to care for her mom.
She’s been sober for thirty-one days.
She’s done it all on her own.
She says she will never drink again.
Her Bible and faith keep her sober.
She is not worried about it at all
as her primary focus now, is her mom.
She was sitting next to her mom’s bed,
comforting words; holding her hand.
She was telling her that it was okay to go
when she took her final breath.
She started to drink two days later.
She is embarrassed and ashamed of herself.
She says she has no more focus in life,
“I don’t want you to come, but please do.”
The first thing she asked me
was to throw out all the booze.
She talked; she rambled; she talked some more.
She figured out what she wants to do.
She’ll get help with her drinking.
Then she will return home.
She’ll volunteer at her local hospice.
A new focus to help her remain
Sober.
Sally's other daughter and son live nearby, but have full time jobs. Bette is on disability from a lung injury while serving in the Marines. She offered to fly out to care for her mom while her siblings worked. Her siblings will help out on the weekends to give Bette a break.
I first met Bette and Sally the previous day when Sally was still in the skilled nursing facility. Sally was to be discharged home later that day. Bette was nervous about being able to care for her mom properly. I went out to their home the next day to check in and see how they both were doing. Bette was so gentle caring for her mom. Sally looked happy to be home. She was lying in her hospital bed in the living room with Bette sitting by her side holding her hand.
It was then that Bette told me about her drinking. She says she had been drinking for thirty years. She stops; goes through withdrawal, drinks again; withdrawal, and the cycled continued. She shared that she had been sober for thirty-one days; pointing to her bible and other religious books; adding that her spirituality is what will keep her sober.
Sally was on hospice for only twelve days when she passed away. Bette was sitting by her mother, holding her hand, when she took her last breath. Today, two days later, Bette started to drink. She called our hospice office for help. She was so ashamed and embarrassed, but was receptive to a visit.
Bette was able to rant and rave while processing her thoughts. I reassured her that she did a beautiful job caring for her mother. In the end, I listened and validated Bette's feelings. I also guided her toward her solution for help. I left resources for her along with a hot-line for her to call if needed. Sally said she would call her brother, who has been sober for eight years. I wish her all the best and hope she is able to reach out and remain sober utilizing the supports she has available to her.
SOBER
She has the biggest heart of all.
She flew here to care for her mom.
She’s been sober for thirty-one days.
She’s done it all on her own.
She says she will never drink again.
Her Bible and faith keep her sober.
She is not worried about it at all
as her primary focus now, is her mom.
She was sitting next to her mom’s bed,
comforting words; holding her hand.
She was telling her that it was okay to go
when she took her final breath.
She started to drink two days later.
She is embarrassed and ashamed of herself.
She says she has no more focus in life,
“I don’t want you to come, but please do.”
The first thing she asked me
was to throw out all the booze.
She talked; she rambled; she talked some more.
She figured out what she wants to do.
She’ll get help with her drinking.
Then she will return home.
She’ll volunteer at her local hospice.
A new focus to help her remain
Sober.
Saturday, May 9, 2015
FEAR
Eighty-two year old, “Minerva”, suffers from lung disease. She was diagnosed ten years ago and had been doing quite well. Three weeks ago, Minerva started to feel short of breath and weak. She was hospitalized four days ago for treatment and tests. Yesterday, she told her family and doctors, "That’s enough." She was done.
Minerva has been widowed for almost twenty years. For the past ten years, she has been living alone in a “Granny House” on her daughter, "Jen's," property. Jen lives in the front house with her husband. Three weeks ago, Jen moved her mother into the main house as she needed closer supervision. Minerva was becoming weaker and needing more help.
Once Jen heard her mother’s request for no more treatment and, in addition, knowing hospice was coming on board, Jen said it was like a tremendous weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She understands that this is her mother’s wishes.
Jen knows that her mom’s biggest fear is struggling to breathe. Jen shared that her biggest fear is doing something wrong and not being able to care for her mom. I assured Jen that hospice is only a phone call away. I added that she never will be alone as hospice will walk along side of her and her family for support.
Once Minerva knew that all the hospice paperwork was signed and that she was going home with hospice support, she was so relieved. Just knowing that she and her daughter had support, was a great relief for her.
Many folks aren’t fearful of dying or the afterlife; it is the struggle they may have while getting there. Fortunately, hospice’s biggest gift to patients and their family is comfort care and being available 24/7. I am so thankful we will be there for Minerva and Jen.
FEAR
She was diagnosed years ago.
Things went well for quite a while.
In just three weeks, all that has changed.
Her life as she once knew, is now totally gone.
She is bedridden, she is weak;
her appetite is all but gone.
Oxygen is needed around the clock,
fearful of not being able to breathe.
She knows her body is shutting down.
She knows her time is short.
Dying is not what fears her the most,
it is about struggling, not catching her breath.
She told her family she is done.
She has been through quite enough.
No more treatment, no more tests.
She just wants to be at home.
With hospice’s support, her anxiety now vanished,
but I was surprised by how much she had changed.
When I asked her if she had any lingering fears,
she smiled and calmly said,
“No, not at all.”
This is what I want.”
Minerva has been widowed for almost twenty years. For the past ten years, she has been living alone in a “Granny House” on her daughter, "Jen's," property. Jen lives in the front house with her husband. Three weeks ago, Jen moved her mother into the main house as she needed closer supervision. Minerva was becoming weaker and needing more help.
Once Jen heard her mother’s request for no more treatment and, in addition, knowing hospice was coming on board, Jen said it was like a tremendous weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She understands that this is her mother’s wishes.
Jen knows that her mom’s biggest fear is struggling to breathe. Jen shared that her biggest fear is doing something wrong and not being able to care for her mom. I assured Jen that hospice is only a phone call away. I added that she never will be alone as hospice will walk along side of her and her family for support.
Once Minerva knew that all the hospice paperwork was signed and that she was going home with hospice support, she was so relieved. Just knowing that she and her daughter had support, was a great relief for her.
Many folks aren’t fearful of dying or the afterlife; it is the struggle they may have while getting there. Fortunately, hospice’s biggest gift to patients and their family is comfort care and being available 24/7. I am so thankful we will be there for Minerva and Jen.
FEAR
She was diagnosed years ago.
Things went well for quite a while.
In just three weeks, all that has changed.
Her life as she once knew, is now totally gone.
She is bedridden, she is weak;
her appetite is all but gone.
Oxygen is needed around the clock,
fearful of not being able to breathe.
She knows her body is shutting down.
She knows her time is short.
Dying is not what fears her the most,
it is about struggling, not catching her breath.
She told her family she is done.
She has been through quite enough.
No more treatment, no more tests.
She just wants to be at home.
With hospice’s support, her anxiety now vanished,
but I was surprised by how much she had changed.
When I asked her if she had any lingering fears,
she smiled and calmly said,
“No, not at all.”
This is what I want.”
Saturday, May 2, 2015
TOOLS
I made a phone call today and spoke with “Judy”, the daughter of a patient that we will be admitting to our hospice program tomorrow. Judy had some questions about the admission process. She will be going out of town for a week and not be available for the open.
Judy's mother, “Maryanne”, suffers from Parkinson’s disease. Maryanne is having some struggle with swallowing food as is choking so easily. She lives in a residential care facility as needs help with all of her daily needs. Maryanne has one other daughter, “Ellie”, who also lives nearby.
The two daughters do not talk and are not close at all, although both are devoted to their mother. Judy said that Ellie copes by avoiding the situation. “If she doesn’t see it, it isn’t happening.” Denial is a huge coping skill that allows one to cope by baby steps. Judy then shared how she coped and how it worked so well for her.
It got me to thinking about how all of us do cope in our own way. There really is no right or wrong way to cope. It is important to recognize what we feel, know that it is normal and process it in a way that works for us. This process is so different for all of us. There are times that avoidance allows us to go slowly with our grief. Unfortunately, there are also times when one can get stuck. Grief is so clever as it twists and turns on a moment’s notice.
Ellie may think that her way of coping is as successful as Judy thinks her way of coping is for her. I just know that we all have to deal with loss. No one escapes pain and heartache. I just hope, when needed, that each of us find the right tools that work for us.
TOOLS
We all have learned how to cope
when tough times come our way.
We know what works for us.
But then, we also know what doesn’t.
Each of us are born with a toolbox
full of bright, shiny, new tools.
We may break the wrench or avoid the hammer,
but quickly pick up the screwdriver.
It is such a unique process;
as different as each one of us.
Not one tool is right for everyone.
We all have to figure things out.
Some of us struggle for years.
We may stuff our feelings; ignore our toolbox.
But perhaps it isn’t all that complicated.
Maybe she has the right idea.
She has such a definitive, direct way
that somehow works for her.
“Be around happy people.
You live it. You enjoy it.
You move on. Don’t dwell.”
Loss is inevitable.
No one is immune.
Knowing which tool to choose
will naturally lighten the load
to help us
to continue
to carry on.
Judy's mother, “Maryanne”, suffers from Parkinson’s disease. Maryanne is having some struggle with swallowing food as is choking so easily. She lives in a residential care facility as needs help with all of her daily needs. Maryanne has one other daughter, “Ellie”, who also lives nearby.
The two daughters do not talk and are not close at all, although both are devoted to their mother. Judy said that Ellie copes by avoiding the situation. “If she doesn’t see it, it isn’t happening.” Denial is a huge coping skill that allows one to cope by baby steps. Judy then shared how she coped and how it worked so well for her.
It got me to thinking about how all of us do cope in our own way. There really is no right or wrong way to cope. It is important to recognize what we feel, know that it is normal and process it in a way that works for us. This process is so different for all of us. There are times that avoidance allows us to go slowly with our grief. Unfortunately, there are also times when one can get stuck. Grief is so clever as it twists and turns on a moment’s notice.
Ellie may think that her way of coping is as successful as Judy thinks her way of coping is for her. I just know that we all have to deal with loss. No one escapes pain and heartache. I just hope, when needed, that each of us find the right tools that work for us.
TOOLS
We all have learned how to cope
when tough times come our way.
We know what works for us.
But then, we also know what doesn’t.
Each of us are born with a toolbox
full of bright, shiny, new tools.
We may break the wrench or avoid the hammer,
but quickly pick up the screwdriver.
It is such a unique process;
as different as each one of us.
Not one tool is right for everyone.
We all have to figure things out.
Some of us struggle for years.
We may stuff our feelings; ignore our toolbox.
But perhaps it isn’t all that complicated.
Maybe she has the right idea.
She has such a definitive, direct way
that somehow works for her.
“Be around happy people.
You live it. You enjoy it.
You move on. Don’t dwell.”
Loss is inevitable.
No one is immune.
Knowing which tool to choose
will naturally lighten the load
to help us
to continue
to carry on.
Saturday, April 25, 2015
GOING HOME
Three months ago, ninety-one year old “Inga” fell and broke her hip. While in the hospital recovering, she came down with pneumonia. She was then transferred to a skilled nursing facility to recover. Inga also suffers from end stage cardiac disease. She has been in a recent decline to where she is weaker, eating less and a bit more confused.
Inga normally lives with her husband, “Eddie”. They have been married seventy years. Eddie is ninety-six years old and still gets around using a walker. Inga and Eddie live in a senior retirement community which offers independent living, assisted living and skilled nursing. Inga has been in the skilled nursing unit for two months and is ready to return home to Eddie, who is in assisted living housing section.
Inga and Eddie have three adult children. Their middle son, “Dennis”, visits daily to check in on both of his parents. They had another daughter, “Janet”, who died years ago from cancer. Their eldest son lives in another state and is unable to do any “hands-on” help.
The hospice nurse and I met with Inga and Dennis today to admit Inga to hospice. Inga is bedridden and requires assistance with all of her needs. The plan is for Inga to return home tomorrow. Dennis has arranged for twenty-four hour attendant care for his parents. Dennis had been visiting his parents daily and feels that both of his parents will be much happier together. Dennis states it also will be a lot easier for him to assist them.
Inga smiles so easily with her only focus being to get home to Eddie. Her smile was huge when the hospice nurse informed her that she will be going home tomorrow. Inga has no fears about dying saying she has people she wants to visit. I know that as a mother, the first person she will run to will be her daughter Janet. I can visualize Inga with a huge smile when greeting her daughter. Go in peace, Inga.
GOING HOME
She’s made it to ninety-one years.
Her life has been full.
No matter what; good times or bad,
she will always have a quick smile.
She’s recovering from pneumonia.
She’s been in one hospital or another.
She just wants to get back home
to her husband of seventy years.
They live with around-the-clock care.
They both know they can’t do it alone
He’s ninety-six, but doing better than her.
They’ve been apart much too long.
She knows her days are numbered.
Her strong faith erases any fears.
“I am ready to go to Heaven.
There’s lots of people I want to visit.”
She’ll be in her own bed tomorrow,
with her husband again by her side.
She will get her final wish
before it’s time for her to
go home.
Inga normally lives with her husband, “Eddie”. They have been married seventy years. Eddie is ninety-six years old and still gets around using a walker. Inga and Eddie live in a senior retirement community which offers independent living, assisted living and skilled nursing. Inga has been in the skilled nursing unit for two months and is ready to return home to Eddie, who is in assisted living housing section.
Inga and Eddie have three adult children. Their middle son, “Dennis”, visits daily to check in on both of his parents. They had another daughter, “Janet”, who died years ago from cancer. Their eldest son lives in another state and is unable to do any “hands-on” help.
The hospice nurse and I met with Inga and Dennis today to admit Inga to hospice. Inga is bedridden and requires assistance with all of her needs. The plan is for Inga to return home tomorrow. Dennis has arranged for twenty-four hour attendant care for his parents. Dennis had been visiting his parents daily and feels that both of his parents will be much happier together. Dennis states it also will be a lot easier for him to assist them.
Inga smiles so easily with her only focus being to get home to Eddie. Her smile was huge when the hospice nurse informed her that she will be going home tomorrow. Inga has no fears about dying saying she has people she wants to visit. I know that as a mother, the first person she will run to will be her daughter Janet. I can visualize Inga with a huge smile when greeting her daughter. Go in peace, Inga.
GOING HOME
She’s made it to ninety-one years.
Her life has been full.
No matter what; good times or bad,
she will always have a quick smile.
She’s recovering from pneumonia.
She’s been in one hospital or another.
She just wants to get back home
to her husband of seventy years.
They live with around-the-clock care.
They both know they can’t do it alone
He’s ninety-six, but doing better than her.
They’ve been apart much too long.
She knows her days are numbered.
Her strong faith erases any fears.
“I am ready to go to Heaven.
There’s lots of people I want to visit.”
She’ll be in her own bed tomorrow,
with her husband again by her side.
She will get her final wish
before it’s time for her to
go home.
Saturday, April 11, 2015
TOUGH TIMES
“William”, eighty-eight, suffers from Parkinson’s Disease and dementia. He’s suffered from the Parkinson’s for twenty-five years. He has had dementia for ten of those years.
William is married to “Julia”, his wife of forty-eight years. They have one son, who is estranged. Julia had been caring for William in their home until two years ago when she realized, she could no longer manage him. William now resides in a nearby Board and Care home where Julia can visit daily. Julia has her own health issues as walks with a walker. She has had two hip surgeries on the same hip as the first one didn’t work correctly. In addition, she has back problems. Each time Julia shared a story about the struggles in her life, she would always add, “What are you going to do?”
William has been in a recent decline to where he is bedridden, eating very little and sleeping most of his days. He is very hard of hearing and confused; speaking only one to two words at a time. William slept through our entire hospice visit.
The moment we walked in, Julia started to share her stories. She was born in Czechoslovakia. During World War II, her family fled to Germany as the Russians were invading her country. Her family eventually settled in London. When Julia was eighteen, she received a Visa to move to San Francisco. That is where she and William met.
Julia also spoke of her estranged son and how she is best friends with his “ex-ex-ex-ex” girlfriend. In addition, she spoke of all of her own health problems. She has several close friends and a number of very good neighbors. She added that she can get lost in a good book. She says she will read anything she can get her hands on.
Julia takes things in stride with a very positive attitude. She does not complain, but shares these stories with a smile and a laugh. She is so aware of what she can control in life and what she cannot. She keeps moving forward saying, “What are you going to do?” Julia says she will be relieved when William dies. Not for her, but for him. She says he has no quality of life at all. She knows she will miss him, but hates to see him this way.
I know Julia will be okay after all is said and done. She will handle William’s death like all of her other life challenges; with grace, humor and acceptance. She is my hero. She embraces life and works the most out of what she has, choosing not to dwell on what she has lost. “What are you going to do?”
TOUGH TIMES
Her life has been full of heartache.
It’s been one thing after another.
Recent times have been tough for her.
It’s like she got more than her fair share.
She smiles so easily when sharing her stories.
She has no bitterness, no resentment, no blame.
Her life is a dramatic, historical novel.
She looks forward to reading the next page.
Her family left their home during the war.
They had no choice but to abruptly leave.
She was seven and saw it as an adventure.
To a new land, a new culture, a new beginning.
She has her own health problems;
their son is estranged.
Finances are a struggle,
but she’ll never complain.
He got sick twenty-five years ago.
His decline has been steady and slow.
First his body, then his mind.
She continues to smile and plug away.
She has such a positive outlook on life
no matter what comes her way.
She knows to let go when she can’t control.
With a smile, she truly believes,
“What are you going to do?”
William is married to “Julia”, his wife of forty-eight years. They have one son, who is estranged. Julia had been caring for William in their home until two years ago when she realized, she could no longer manage him. William now resides in a nearby Board and Care home where Julia can visit daily. Julia has her own health issues as walks with a walker. She has had two hip surgeries on the same hip as the first one didn’t work correctly. In addition, she has back problems. Each time Julia shared a story about the struggles in her life, she would always add, “What are you going to do?”
William has been in a recent decline to where he is bedridden, eating very little and sleeping most of his days. He is very hard of hearing and confused; speaking only one to two words at a time. William slept through our entire hospice visit.
The moment we walked in, Julia started to share her stories. She was born in Czechoslovakia. During World War II, her family fled to Germany as the Russians were invading her country. Her family eventually settled in London. When Julia was eighteen, she received a Visa to move to San Francisco. That is where she and William met.
Julia also spoke of her estranged son and how she is best friends with his “ex-ex-ex-ex” girlfriend. In addition, she spoke of all of her own health problems. She has several close friends and a number of very good neighbors. She added that she can get lost in a good book. She says she will read anything she can get her hands on.
Julia takes things in stride with a very positive attitude. She does not complain, but shares these stories with a smile and a laugh. She is so aware of what she can control in life and what she cannot. She keeps moving forward saying, “What are you going to do?” Julia says she will be relieved when William dies. Not for her, but for him. She says he has no quality of life at all. She knows she will miss him, but hates to see him this way.
I know Julia will be okay after all is said and done. She will handle William’s death like all of her other life challenges; with grace, humor and acceptance. She is my hero. She embraces life and works the most out of what she has, choosing not to dwell on what she has lost. “What are you going to do?”
TOUGH TIMES
Her life has been full of heartache.
It’s been one thing after another.
Recent times have been tough for her.
It’s like she got more than her fair share.
She smiles so easily when sharing her stories.
She has no bitterness, no resentment, no blame.
Her life is a dramatic, historical novel.
She looks forward to reading the next page.
Her family left their home during the war.
They had no choice but to abruptly leave.
She was seven and saw it as an adventure.
To a new land, a new culture, a new beginning.
She has her own health problems;
their son is estranged.
Finances are a struggle,
but she’ll never complain.
He got sick twenty-five years ago.
His decline has been steady and slow.
First his body, then his mind.
She continues to smile and plug away.
She has such a positive outlook on life
no matter what comes her way.
She knows to let go when she can’t control.
With a smile, she truly believes,
“What are you going to do?”
Saturday, April 4, 2015
READY TO GO
“Janelle”, ninety-one, has had a long history of cardiac disease. She was widowed for many years and has been living alone. Janelle did not look or act her age at all. Two weeks before, she made her daily trek down to the Senior Center, several blocks away, to engage in their daily activities.
She was very social and had many friends. She lived in a one bedroom home behind her grandson and his family’s home. Her grandson and his wife would check in on her, but pretty much, Janelle was able to come and go independently.
Ten days ago, she ended up in the hospital because of her heart condition. The plan was for Janelle to stay in her own home in order that her son, “Gary”, her grandson and his wife would be available to give her the “around-the-clock” care she needed. Gary lived about twenty minutes away, but would be spending much of his time with his mother.
There was no more treatment for Janelle’s damaged heart. She was now on continuous oxygen. When the admission nurse and I walked in, we found Janelle sitting at the kitchen table dabbling at her food. She said her appetite was gone. She also added that she was so weak now. I encouraged her to lay down if she needed, but she wanted to sit up to hear what we had to say. The nurse immediately went with Gary to check out Janelle’s medication. Janelle then turned to me and said that she was ready to go, but Gary wasn’t ready for her to go.
Janelle added that she had no fears about dying, but her primary concern was for her son. She didn’t know how to tell him that she was ready to go. I offered to share the information with him and she immediately responded, “Yes, please.!” After Janelle went to lie down, I shared her wishes with Gary. I shared how it sometimes helps if one can give a loved one permission to go. I said it is okay if you can’t. Just follow your heart and the words will come.
Hours later, Janelle’s illness took a dramatic downward turn. Within two days, she was unresponsive and bedridden. She died two days after our meeting. It seemed fitting, as she had been so independent and in charge during her life. Janelle would have wanted to go this way; quickly and peacefully. Gary was able to give his mom permission to go. Because of her family’s understanding and support, she indeed had a good death.
READY TO GO
She has always been very independent.
She lived each day to the fullest.
She was always ready to go;
lunch with friends; Senior Center activities.
Her decline was swift and debilitating.
It caught everyone off guard.
She needs help now with everything.
She can no longer live alone.
With tears in her eyes,
she turned to me and said,
“I am worried about my son.
I am ready to go, but he’s not.”
I asked if she wanted me to tell him.
She eagerly replied, “Yes!”
I informed him of her wishes.
Tearfully, he said, “I understand.”
Two days later, she was bedridden.
She was unresponsive and close to death.
With heartfelt words, he gave her permission to go.
Hours later she quietly passed.
She heard what she needed to hear.
He said she went “calmly with peace”.
“We couldn’t have had it any better.”
Both now ready,
for her to let go.
She was very social and had many friends. She lived in a one bedroom home behind her grandson and his family’s home. Her grandson and his wife would check in on her, but pretty much, Janelle was able to come and go independently.
Ten days ago, she ended up in the hospital because of her heart condition. The plan was for Janelle to stay in her own home in order that her son, “Gary”, her grandson and his wife would be available to give her the “around-the-clock” care she needed. Gary lived about twenty minutes away, but would be spending much of his time with his mother.
There was no more treatment for Janelle’s damaged heart. She was now on continuous oxygen. When the admission nurse and I walked in, we found Janelle sitting at the kitchen table dabbling at her food. She said her appetite was gone. She also added that she was so weak now. I encouraged her to lay down if she needed, but she wanted to sit up to hear what we had to say. The nurse immediately went with Gary to check out Janelle’s medication. Janelle then turned to me and said that she was ready to go, but Gary wasn’t ready for her to go.
Janelle added that she had no fears about dying, but her primary concern was for her son. She didn’t know how to tell him that she was ready to go. I offered to share the information with him and she immediately responded, “Yes, please.!” After Janelle went to lie down, I shared her wishes with Gary. I shared how it sometimes helps if one can give a loved one permission to go. I said it is okay if you can’t. Just follow your heart and the words will come.
Hours later, Janelle’s illness took a dramatic downward turn. Within two days, she was unresponsive and bedridden. She died two days after our meeting. It seemed fitting, as she had been so independent and in charge during her life. Janelle would have wanted to go this way; quickly and peacefully. Gary was able to give his mom permission to go. Because of her family’s understanding and support, she indeed had a good death.
READY TO GO
She has always been very independent.
She lived each day to the fullest.
She was always ready to go;
lunch with friends; Senior Center activities.
Her decline was swift and debilitating.
It caught everyone off guard.
She needs help now with everything.
She can no longer live alone.
With tears in her eyes,
she turned to me and said,
“I am worried about my son.
I am ready to go, but he’s not.”
I asked if she wanted me to tell him.
She eagerly replied, “Yes!”
I informed him of her wishes.
Tearfully, he said, “I understand.”
Two days later, she was bedridden.
She was unresponsive and close to death.
With heartfelt words, he gave her permission to go.
Hours later she quietly passed.
She heard what she needed to hear.
He said she went “calmly with peace”.
“We couldn’t have had it any better.”
Both now ready,
for her to let go.
Saturday, March 28, 2015
WHO HELPED WHOM?
I first met Ken and Lou a year ago. Ken came onto hospice suffering from stomach cancer. They both were in their eighties and were married sixty-two years. This was a very close-knit and loving family. They had three children who were so involved and present for their parents.
Ken’s health declined slowly over the six months I visited, but he would always have a smile no matter what. Not much ever got him down. Ken and Lou were devoted to each other. Ken always insisted that Lou go to the local pool to swim at least twice a week. Lou loved swimming and had many girlfriends there who gave her the needed support.
Each time I visited, the two of them would always ask how I was doing. We would talk about local restaurants, shops, nurseries etc. It seemed like most visits were just social, although I was able to help both of them, now and then, with their grief of experiencing such a loss.
I had not seen them for six months after leaving my position. I found out from the hospice nurse last week, that Ken had died. Lou had told the nurse to make sure I knew and that she would like me to come to the funeral. I was so honored to have been invited.
As I was leaving the cemetery, I went up to Lou to say goodbye. It was then she told me how I had helped both of them. I was a bit surprised, but humbled by her response. It is so easy to see what others give us, but most often, we are not aware of what we give in return. I truly believe that each and every one of us make a difference each day. We probably would be surprised at how many people we have helped along the way. To all of you; keep up the good work.
WHO HELPED WHOM?
I met them about a year ago.
I liked them from the start.
The conversation would immediately start
once I stepped foot into their home.
He shared these fascinating stories
about being a test pilot in the military.
He laughed while he told me how he once
crashed a million dollar fighter plane.
I didn’t need to visit as often as I did,
but they were such a joy to be around.
I didn’t feel that I did that much for them,
but they were always happy to see me come.
I hadn’t seem them for many months
since no longer carrying a caseload.
I found out he died last week.
She asked for me to come.
I was there as much for them as for me.
I teased her and said I didn’t do much for either of you.
She turned serious and replied,
“Yes you did. You were always there for us.”
One only sees what comes in.
We don’t notice what we give out.
I just know I am so glad to have met them.
Helping them indeed helped me too.
Ken’s health declined slowly over the six months I visited, but he would always have a smile no matter what. Not much ever got him down. Ken and Lou were devoted to each other. Ken always insisted that Lou go to the local pool to swim at least twice a week. Lou loved swimming and had many girlfriends there who gave her the needed support.
Each time I visited, the two of them would always ask how I was doing. We would talk about local restaurants, shops, nurseries etc. It seemed like most visits were just social, although I was able to help both of them, now and then, with their grief of experiencing such a loss.
I had not seen them for six months after leaving my position. I found out from the hospice nurse last week, that Ken had died. Lou had told the nurse to make sure I knew and that she would like me to come to the funeral. I was so honored to have been invited.
As I was leaving the cemetery, I went up to Lou to say goodbye. It was then she told me how I had helped both of them. I was a bit surprised, but humbled by her response. It is so easy to see what others give us, but most often, we are not aware of what we give in return. I truly believe that each and every one of us make a difference each day. We probably would be surprised at how many people we have helped along the way. To all of you; keep up the good work.
WHO HELPED WHOM?
I met them about a year ago.
I liked them from the start.
The conversation would immediately start
once I stepped foot into their home.
He shared these fascinating stories
about being a test pilot in the military.
He laughed while he told me how he once
crashed a million dollar fighter plane.
I didn’t need to visit as often as I did,
but they were such a joy to be around.
I didn’t feel that I did that much for them,
but they were always happy to see me come.
I hadn’t seem them for many months
since no longer carrying a caseload.
I found out he died last week.
She asked for me to come.
I was there as much for them as for me.
I teased her and said I didn’t do much for either of you.
She turned serious and replied,
“Yes you did. You were always there for us.”
One only sees what comes in.
We don’t notice what we give out.
I just know I am so glad to have met them.
Helping them indeed helped me too.
Saturday, March 21, 2015
HER KIDS
“Ellie”, ninety-seven, was admitted into a skilled nursing facility yesterday. Ellie suffers from cardiac disease. She is widowed and had been living alone in her own home until last week when she was admitted into the hospital due to heart complications. After a week’s stay in the hospital, it was obvious that she could no longer live alone. Ellie was discharged from the hospital yesterday to a skilled nursing facility.
The hospice nurse and I went out to admit Ellie to hospice. Ellie is alert and oriented and was able to sign her own paperwork. We just missed meeting her eldest son, “David”, as he had just left after a short visit with his mother. David lives about two hours away. He had to get home before the heavy storm that was predicted. His drive is over mountainous, snowy terrain.
Ellie was in good spirits and had easily accepted her new living situation. She had an easy smile and has always taken life as it comes. She spoke about needing someone to bring her some clothes as all she had was the hospital gown on her back. David had arranged for someone to bring his mother some much needed clothes.
Ellie spoke of her two other children, “Janice“ and “Bobby“, who live together in a neighboring state. They had just returned home as had visited while she was in the hospital. Ellie felt bad as she knew most of the burden was on her eldest son, David. She was a mama bear worrying about her bear cubs.
I asked Ellie if she ever looks at her kids as adults or are they still just kids to her. She smiled and said that yes, they are, and always will be, her kids. She made me smile as once a mother, always a mother. How amazing and wonderful is that?
HER KIDS
She has raised three kids.
She taught them well.
They all want to help her now
since her move into the care facility.
She had been living alone until last week
when her health problems became much worse.
It happened so suddenly; no time to prepare.
She needs more help now than ever before.
She hates to bother her kids.
She says they are all so busy.
But she needs someone to bring her clothes;
to sort through her belongings; to help pay her bills.
In spite of it all, she’ll smile so easily.
Never once feeling sorry for herself.
Knowing she needs them,
but not wanting to burden her kids.
It is a mother’s prerogative to worry about them.
It has always been and will continue to be that way.
Even though she is now ninety-seven years old
and they are seventy-five, seventy and fifty eight.
But when all is said and done,
she is just a mom
protecting and loving
her three young kids.
The hospice nurse and I went out to admit Ellie to hospice. Ellie is alert and oriented and was able to sign her own paperwork. We just missed meeting her eldest son, “David”, as he had just left after a short visit with his mother. David lives about two hours away. He had to get home before the heavy storm that was predicted. His drive is over mountainous, snowy terrain.
Ellie was in good spirits and had easily accepted her new living situation. She had an easy smile and has always taken life as it comes. She spoke about needing someone to bring her some clothes as all she had was the hospital gown on her back. David had arranged for someone to bring his mother some much needed clothes.
Ellie spoke of her two other children, “Janice“ and “Bobby“, who live together in a neighboring state. They had just returned home as had visited while she was in the hospital. Ellie felt bad as she knew most of the burden was on her eldest son, David. She was a mama bear worrying about her bear cubs.
I asked Ellie if she ever looks at her kids as adults or are they still just kids to her. She smiled and said that yes, they are, and always will be, her kids. She made me smile as once a mother, always a mother. How amazing and wonderful is that?
HER KIDS
She has raised three kids.
She taught them well.
They all want to help her now
since her move into the care facility.
She had been living alone until last week
when her health problems became much worse.
It happened so suddenly; no time to prepare.
She needs more help now than ever before.
She hates to bother her kids.
She says they are all so busy.
But she needs someone to bring her clothes;
to sort through her belongings; to help pay her bills.
In spite of it all, she’ll smile so easily.
Never once feeling sorry for herself.
Knowing she needs them,
but not wanting to burden her kids.
It is a mother’s prerogative to worry about them.
It has always been and will continue to be that way.
Even though she is now ninety-seven years old
and they are seventy-five, seventy and fifty eight.
But when all is said and done,
she is just a mom
protecting and loving
her three young kids.
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