"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.
Saturday, November 28, 2015
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.
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