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.
Friday, October 30, 2015
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.
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