One doesn't realize the power and strength of emotions until it hits you personally. During my hospice work, I witness such strong emotions on a daily basis. I realize the strength of it, but do not truly feel the power of it all.
My friend, Judy, lives about 600 miles south of me. She was driving home after spending a week with friends. She estimated the drive to take about six hours. Two hours into the drive, she felt symptoms of lightheadedness, a racing heart and becoming flushed. She pulled into a Rest Stop hopefully for the symptoms to subside. They did a little bit, but smartly she called her friend who agreed to come pick her up and drive her home.
Judy called me from the Rest Stop to inform me of what was happening. We spoke several times over the next few hours. I felt so helpless as there was nothing I could do at that moment. She got home late that same night and called her doctor yesterday who directed her to the ER. Judy spent eight hours in the ER with the end result being "All is okay."
During the course of the day, I felt such a strong need to be with her. I offered to fly down to be with her, but she said she is doing okay. She has such a positive attitude about life and laughs so easily.
I could not focus on anything yesterday as all of my thoughts were on Judy. It is such a strong reminder of how life is so fragile and any one of us could be gone at any time. It is a strong lesson about embracing this moment as that is all that any of us have.
THE POWER
I witness emotions
on a daily basis.
Grief, worry, anger, acceptance.
It is always a process; a struggle at times.
I am at awe of how so many do cope.
They have come to terms; to acceptance quite often;
as I frequently hear,
"It is what it is".
One doesn't realize the power of emotions
until it hits one personally and then they truly know.
They feel the tremendous strength overpowering them.
Unable to think clearly about anything else.
She was driving home after Christmas
when symptoms suddenly appeared.
Light headedness, heart racing, feeling flushed.
Stopping at a Rest Stop waiting for it to subside.
They did settle down some, but didn't fully disappear.
Her friend came and drove her the four hours to home.
She spent eight hours yesterday in the ER.
Final outcome, "All test results are normal."
I spoke with her multiple times on the phone.
I so wanted; and needed; to be with her,
but she said, "All is okay. I am going to be fine."
She was coping so much better than I.
I'll call her later today.
We will laugh like we always do.
I so love her with all of my heart.
This is a reminder of how quickly
all of that could be
so suddenly gone.
Saturday, December 29, 2018
Saturday, December 22, 2018
TIMING
I was asked this morning to call a patient's daughter, whose father had died hours before our hospice admission team was scheduled to arrive to open him to our program. Upon her father's death, his daughter, "Jill", called to cancel the visit.
I found out after my call that the patient had died two weeks ago. When talking with Jill, I had mistakenly assumed her father had died within one to days ago. The Admission staff said that they kept wanting to ask me to call her, but it had been so busy so they kept waiting until things slowed down a bit; which was today.
I called the daughter and she immediately started to talk about her father. She shared that her sister had died ten years ago. It was then that she was given a book about the grieving process. She said that booked has helped her so much with her sister's, and now her father's death.
Her father was a very independent, strong person and did not want strangers in the house. She felt he let go before hospice came out as he was always wanting to do things for himself. I spoke with Jill about how patients do let go when the time is right for them. I told her that I could share so many instances about other patients.
She told me stories about her father and her family. Her family was full of so much love and caring for their father and for each other. She so appreciated my call and said that it helped her so much.
It made me think about the timing of my call. The initial goal was to call her two weeks ago, but calling her today was the perfect time. Her father's timing of his death was also perfect for him. Spirituality is such a huge part of hospice which is why I feel so honored to be a part of something so amazing and pure.
TIMING
They wanted me to call her two weeks ago.
They knew she was so sad.
They were waiting until it wasn't so busy,
so I just heard about it today.
I called her early this afternoon.
She was so eager to talk.
She spoke about her father; her family;
sharing wonderful stories about absolute love.
She and her sister were by his side
knowing it wouldn't be long.
She left to make a quick phone call,
then felt a strong urge to go back.
She hurriedly walked to her father's side
when he peacefully took one final breath.
She knew he was waiting for her to be there;
still being a dad; a husband; a grandpa.
I actively listened while validating her grief;
feeling a strong spiritual connection.
"You called me at the perfect time
as I so needed to talk."
The spiritual voice from above
guides us to where we can naturally flow.
We will travel our journey perfectly.
As in this case,
timing was everything.
I found out after my call that the patient had died two weeks ago. When talking with Jill, I had mistakenly assumed her father had died within one to days ago. The Admission staff said that they kept wanting to ask me to call her, but it had been so busy so they kept waiting until things slowed down a bit; which was today.
I called the daughter and she immediately started to talk about her father. She shared that her sister had died ten years ago. It was then that she was given a book about the grieving process. She said that booked has helped her so much with her sister's, and now her father's death.
Her father was a very independent, strong person and did not want strangers in the house. She felt he let go before hospice came out as he was always wanting to do things for himself. I spoke with Jill about how patients do let go when the time is right for them. I told her that I could share so many instances about other patients.
She told me stories about her father and her family. Her family was full of so much love and caring for their father and for each other. She so appreciated my call and said that it helped her so much.
It made me think about the timing of my call. The initial goal was to call her two weeks ago, but calling her today was the perfect time. Her father's timing of his death was also perfect for him. Spirituality is such a huge part of hospice which is why I feel so honored to be a part of something so amazing and pure.
TIMING
They wanted me to call her two weeks ago.
They knew she was so sad.
They were waiting until it wasn't so busy,
so I just heard about it today.
I called her early this afternoon.
She was so eager to talk.
She spoke about her father; her family;
sharing wonderful stories about absolute love.
She and her sister were by his side
knowing it wouldn't be long.
She left to make a quick phone call,
then felt a strong urge to go back.
She hurriedly walked to her father's side
when he peacefully took one final breath.
She knew he was waiting for her to be there;
still being a dad; a husband; a grandpa.
I actively listened while validating her grief;
feeling a strong spiritual connection.
"You called me at the perfect time
as I so needed to talk."
The spiritual voice from above
guides us to where we can naturally flow.
We will travel our journey perfectly.
As in this case,
timing was everything.
Saturday, December 15, 2018
WHY I DO
Hospice work is so rewarding. It may be one word, one phrase or just a smile from a patient or a family member. Our natural flow is to meet patients and families with open, non-judgmental hearts. I truly believe that is ninety-five percent of what makes hospice work. Folks want validation and caring support.
"Kathy", fifty-eight, was diagnosed with throat cancer two years ago. She had been through chemotherapy and radiation which was no longer working. She was admitted to the hospital six days ago due to her having a struggle with breathing and swallowing. She was discharged home this afternoon for hospice follow up.
I met up with her husband, "Don", about forty-five minutes before Kathy returned home. I was able to explain our program to him while giving him the needed support. Kathy came home in an ambulance. When the paramedics wheeled her into the front room, Kathy asked to be helped to the couch. Her body language and face were a perfect example of where she so wanted to be.
I got down on my knee so I could face Kathy eye to eye. I had my hand on her knee offering gentle support. Her voice was so faint and low, but she had several questions about our program. I knew she was tired and so kept our discussion short. In the end, it was a great example of what an impact a few words can make.
Her gift to me was tremendous. I know we as hospice workers help patients and families, but our rewards return to us a thousand fold. Thank you Kathy. Your kindness touched my heart and my soul.
WHY I DO
As hospice workers,
we often get asked,
"How can you continue to do
all that you do every day?"
The answer comes easy.
It is a natural flow.
It is a calling; it pulls us in.
The rewards so amazingly high.
She's been sick for several years.
Chemotherapy, radiation; the works.
There is no more treatment; no cure.
She wants to remain home to just be.
She speaks in whispers, her voice is so faint.
Her goal is to have some control.
"What do you do? How can you help?
How often do you make a visit?"
I educated her about our hospice team
and how we all come with our hearts.
As I spoke about our chaplain support,
I remembered her husband said she was spiritual
with no religious connections at all.
"I heard you were spiritual."
Softly adding, "I am right on that same page with you."
She looked at me so gently asking,
"When will you be back?"
She told me I had made a difference,
while giving a beautiful gift to me.
This is a perfect example of
Why I do;
why I so do;
this divine work every day.
"Kathy", fifty-eight, was diagnosed with throat cancer two years ago. She had been through chemotherapy and radiation which was no longer working. She was admitted to the hospital six days ago due to her having a struggle with breathing and swallowing. She was discharged home this afternoon for hospice follow up.
I met up with her husband, "Don", about forty-five minutes before Kathy returned home. I was able to explain our program to him while giving him the needed support. Kathy came home in an ambulance. When the paramedics wheeled her into the front room, Kathy asked to be helped to the couch. Her body language and face were a perfect example of where she so wanted to be.
I got down on my knee so I could face Kathy eye to eye. I had my hand on her knee offering gentle support. Her voice was so faint and low, but she had several questions about our program. I knew she was tired and so kept our discussion short. In the end, it was a great example of what an impact a few words can make.
Her gift to me was tremendous. I know we as hospice workers help patients and families, but our rewards return to us a thousand fold. Thank you Kathy. Your kindness touched my heart and my soul.
WHY I DO
As hospice workers,
we often get asked,
"How can you continue to do
all that you do every day?"
The answer comes easy.
It is a natural flow.
It is a calling; it pulls us in.
The rewards so amazingly high.
She's been sick for several years.
Chemotherapy, radiation; the works.
There is no more treatment; no cure.
She wants to remain home to just be.
She speaks in whispers, her voice is so faint.
Her goal is to have some control.
"What do you do? How can you help?
How often do you make a visit?"
I educated her about our hospice team
and how we all come with our hearts.
As I spoke about our chaplain support,
I remembered her husband said she was spiritual
with no religious connections at all.
"I heard you were spiritual."
Softly adding, "I am right on that same page with you."
She looked at me so gently asking,
"When will you be back?"
She told me I had made a difference,
while giving a beautiful gift to me.
This is a perfect example of
Why I do;
why I so do;
this divine work every day.
Sunday, December 9, 2018
HER FAITH
I received a call from the hospice office asking if I could stop by a Board and Care home to meet up with a patient's sister. Hospice received an urgent referral to admit, "Jennie" to our program. Jennie's sister, ""Michele" was waiting for me at the facility.
Jennie was being discharged from the hospital late this afternoon. She had suffered a major stroke and was now unresponsive and likely had only hours to a few days to live. I met Michele as we sat in Jennie's room at the Board and Care Home. Jennie was not yet discharged from the hospital.
Initially I asked Michele if she had any questions before I spoke about hospice support and our program. It was then she spoke about her family. She said her mother had eleven children; of which now only six are still alive. Her mother died at age 46 from blood clots and a stroke. She told me that Jennie was a widow as her husband died young over twenty years ago.
While sharing her family's story, she was very unemotional and accepting. We spoke about the tremendous number of losses she and her family shared. I then asked her, "What helps you cope through such difficult times?" Her face lit up as she started to talk about her Mormon faith. It was a beautiful thing to witness the amazing strength and guidance she received from her faith.
None of us can go through life alone. We all need support through times when life challenges us the most. Michele is such a perfect example of how important it is to never feel alone. I wish Michele the best.
HER FAITH
She spoke about her family
and all of the losses they shared.
So many from blood clots and strokes.
A lineage history hard not to ignore.
She was one of eleven children.
Now, there is only six.
By next week, her sister will be gone.
Leaving only five to remain.
She was precise and realistic;
while aware of her sister's fate.
Not much emotion in her voice.
Not being surprised at all.
I spoke about grief, loss and sorrow;
wanting to normalize her pain.
She declined all of the support offered,
"I am going to be okay".
She then spoke about her Mormon beliefs.
How her faith is all that she needs.
Her face lit up when she shared;
"It has, and forever will,
help me through life's tough times."
She is fortunate to have such strong beliefs.
Her devotion helps her to remain strong.
She is, and always will be, surrounded by
her loving family and friends;
but most of all
her amazing and strong,
deep faith.
Jennie was being discharged from the hospital late this afternoon. She had suffered a major stroke and was now unresponsive and likely had only hours to a few days to live. I met Michele as we sat in Jennie's room at the Board and Care Home. Jennie was not yet discharged from the hospital.
Initially I asked Michele if she had any questions before I spoke about hospice support and our program. It was then she spoke about her family. She said her mother had eleven children; of which now only six are still alive. Her mother died at age 46 from blood clots and a stroke. She told me that Jennie was a widow as her husband died young over twenty years ago.
While sharing her family's story, she was very unemotional and accepting. We spoke about the tremendous number of losses she and her family shared. I then asked her, "What helps you cope through such difficult times?" Her face lit up as she started to talk about her Mormon faith. It was a beautiful thing to witness the amazing strength and guidance she received from her faith.
None of us can go through life alone. We all need support through times when life challenges us the most. Michele is such a perfect example of how important it is to never feel alone. I wish Michele the best.
HER FAITH
She spoke about her family
and all of the losses they shared.
So many from blood clots and strokes.
A lineage history hard not to ignore.
She was one of eleven children.
Now, there is only six.
By next week, her sister will be gone.
Leaving only five to remain.
She was precise and realistic;
while aware of her sister's fate.
Not much emotion in her voice.
Not being surprised at all.
I spoke about grief, loss and sorrow;
wanting to normalize her pain.
She declined all of the support offered,
"I am going to be okay".
She then spoke about her Mormon beliefs.
How her faith is all that she needs.
Her face lit up when she shared;
"It has, and forever will,
help me through life's tough times."
She is fortunate to have such strong beliefs.
Her devotion helps her to remain strong.
She is, and always will be, surrounded by
her loving family and friends;
but most of all
her amazing and strong,
deep faith.
Sunday, December 2, 2018
MORE SAD
We admitted, “Johnny”, sixty years old, to our hospice program today. Johnny lives in a filthy Room and Board Home. Johnny had been homeless, so this home to him, is a much better place to be.
The hospice nurse and I met up with Johnny and his case manager, “Joshua”. Joshua works for an agency which is so supportive to Johnny. Joshua visits often and helps Johnny manage what comes his way.
Johnny was very unkempt himself, but seemed comfortable in his environment. He looked up to his case manager as knew how much Joshua helped him. Johnny didn’t seem to mind being admitted to hospice. Johnny didn’t look ahead, but focused on his current needs.
Johnny was a good guy, but struggled so with managing his day to day basic needs. Johnny suffered from throat cancer and struggled with swallowing. He loved chocolate milkshakes and anything sweet. There are no treatment options for Johnny. His terminal prognosis was grim.
The hospice nurse and I wanted to help him so much, but felt helpless. Hopefully, along with Joshua, hospice support can be beneficial to Johnny. He is a strong reminder to me that there are some things worse than a terminal diagnosis; Mental Illness. It makes me question, “Why do so many of us have so much more than others to deal with on a daily basis?” There just is no answer and that is what makes me even more sad.
MORE SAD
I have had moments of sadness
while doing this amazing hospice work.
It comes with the territory at times,
but, what helps, is that love
somehow always prevails.
What helps folks through difficult times
is the love that comes around.
Be it through family, through close friends
or a strong faith that allows them peace.
He, on the other hand, has no close friends.
His family is staying away.
Through no fault of his own,
he has burned so many bridges.
He lives in a room and board setting;
as filthy as can be.
It is cluttered with a strong odor
with rodents scurrying around.
His throat cancer is now terminal.
No more treatment to be done.
He will need nursing home placement soon,
but he just doesn't want to leave.
His heart is gentle; he's doing his best.
He's trying so hard to survive.
But what makes me so much sadder;
is not his terminal cancer,
but his mental illness; his schizophrenia.
I have no answer,
but he is a powerful reminder to me
of how I feel so strongly that;
Life, at times, seems so unfair.
The hospice nurse and I met up with Johnny and his case manager, “Joshua”. Joshua works for an agency which is so supportive to Johnny. Joshua visits often and helps Johnny manage what comes his way.
Johnny was very unkempt himself, but seemed comfortable in his environment. He looked up to his case manager as knew how much Joshua helped him. Johnny didn’t seem to mind being admitted to hospice. Johnny didn’t look ahead, but focused on his current needs.
Johnny was a good guy, but struggled so with managing his day to day basic needs. Johnny suffered from throat cancer and struggled with swallowing. He loved chocolate milkshakes and anything sweet. There are no treatment options for Johnny. His terminal prognosis was grim.
The hospice nurse and I wanted to help him so much, but felt helpless. Hopefully, along with Joshua, hospice support can be beneficial to Johnny. He is a strong reminder to me that there are some things worse than a terminal diagnosis; Mental Illness. It makes me question, “Why do so many of us have so much more than others to deal with on a daily basis?” There just is no answer and that is what makes me even more sad.
MORE SAD
I have had moments of sadness
while doing this amazing hospice work.
It comes with the territory at times,
but, what helps, is that love
somehow always prevails.
What helps folks through difficult times
is the love that comes around.
Be it through family, through close friends
or a strong faith that allows them peace.
He, on the other hand, has no close friends.
His family is staying away.
Through no fault of his own,
he has burned so many bridges.
He lives in a room and board setting;
as filthy as can be.
It is cluttered with a strong odor
with rodents scurrying around.
His throat cancer is now terminal.
No more treatment to be done.
He will need nursing home placement soon,
but he just doesn't want to leave.
His heart is gentle; he's doing his best.
He's trying so hard to survive.
But what makes me so much sadder;
is not his terminal cancer,
but his mental illness; his schizophrenia.
I have no answer,
but he is a powerful reminder to me
of how I feel so strongly that;
Life, at times, seems so unfair.
Saturday, November 24, 2018
THE BEGINNING
Occasionally, I will be asked to write a poem for someone. My friend, Amye, died four months ago. Prior to her death, she requested that I, and another friend, Penny, drive her car to Tennessee to give to her cousin. One month after Amye’s death, Penny and I were honored to drive Amye's car to Memphis. Amye, Penny and I all met working at hospice.
The drive was very healing and supportive to both Penny and myself. Penny and I were very close friends prior to this trip, but this car trip allowed us to become even closer. We laughed a lot while healing with our grief of the loss of our friend Amye.
Most of Amye's family lives in Memphis Tennessee. Amye's family just embraced Penny and I. It was wonderful. Amye's Aunt Margaret knew that I wrote poetry. Aunt Margaret, her husband and her nephew all flew out to San Francisco for Amye's scattering of ashes near the Golden Gate Bridge. It is difficult to take only one photo of the Golden Gate Bridge; hence I had many.
Amye was born in Memphis. Aunt Margaret asked that I take a photo of their bridge in Memphis while we were visiting. She wanted both bridges framed along with the poem she requested that I write. Hence the two photos and my poem are now framed and hanging in the perfect spot at our Hospice Office.
Amye had an eleven year old cat named Coco. Another co-worker, Sunny, adopted Coco after Amye's death. I sit next to Sunny at work. These past four months she has been sharing Coco stories in such a beautiful and humorous way. Her stories represented the Alpha personality of Coco in such an adorable way.
Coco was diagnosed with Pancreatitis and Diabetes three days ago. Sunny struggled as did not want Coco to leave her, but also did not want her to suffer with finger sticks and insulin injections. Early this morning, Sunny handed Coco over to Amye. I would like to think that all is what it should be. Amye and Coco together again. Today seemed like the perfect day to share Amye’s and Coco’s story. We all were honored to be a part.
The drive was very healing and supportive to both Penny and myself. Penny and I were very close friends prior to this trip, but this car trip allowed us to become even closer. We laughed a lot while healing with our grief of the loss of our friend Amye.
Most of Amye's family lives in Memphis Tennessee. Amye's family just embraced Penny and I. It was wonderful. Amye's Aunt Margaret knew that I wrote poetry. Aunt Margaret, her husband and her nephew all flew out to San Francisco for Amye's scattering of ashes near the Golden Gate Bridge. It is difficult to take only one photo of the Golden Gate Bridge; hence I had many.
Amye was born in Memphis. Aunt Margaret asked that I take a photo of their bridge in Memphis while we were visiting. She wanted both bridges framed along with the poem she requested that I write. Hence the two photos and my poem are now framed and hanging in the perfect spot at our Hospice Office.
Amye had an eleven year old cat named Coco. Another co-worker, Sunny, adopted Coco after Amye's death. I sit next to Sunny at work. These past four months she has been sharing Coco stories in such a beautiful and humorous way. Her stories represented the Alpha personality of Coco in such an adorable way.
Coco was diagnosed with Pancreatitis and Diabetes three days ago. Sunny struggled as did not want Coco to leave her, but also did not want her to suffer with finger sticks and insulin injections. Early this morning, Sunny handed Coco over to Amye. I would like to think that all is what it should be. Amye and Coco together again. Today seemed like the perfect day to share Amye’s and Coco’s story. We all were honored to be a part.
THE BEGINNING
In the beginning,
nearby a beautiful Memphis bridge,
she was welcomed by her loving family
into a new and beautiful world.
Even though moving to the West Coast
at three months of age,
her family relationship grew and prospered
as the love connections never failed.
She made new friends
who also became family to her.
They surrounded and loved her
like she so well deserved.
Forty-nine years later,
it was her time to go.
She knew and accepted it
living her life and allowing her death
her way.
We all said goodbye
near the Golden Gate Bridge.
Gently handing her over to the other side.
Another new beginning;
especially created
just for her.
Saturday, November 17, 2018
EXPECTATION
"Joy", thirty-four, was diagnosed with liver cancer three years ago. She went through chemotherapy treatment, although it was unsuccessful. Joy lives with a very close friend. Her friend will be available to help Joy as her needs increase..
Prior to the visit, I was feeling so sad as to what she had to deal with at such a young age. I had expectations of finding great sadness with feelings of unfairness. I prayed to have the words in order to give comfort.
Joy was sitting at her kitchen table when we walked in. She asked the nurse and I to sit with her. She sat so straight with a strong, precise personality. She had accepted her diagnosis and terminal status so easily. She was so matter-of-fact and realistic regarding her dismal future.
She had already initiated the End-of-Life Option Act, although wanted that available just in case she chose to go that route. She spoke so intellectually and so appreciated our visit and hospice support.
She was wise beyond her years. Life is what it is to her. She made decisions realistically without any regret or sadness. She was an amazing person with such a beautiful soul. I feel so honored to have met her.
EXPECTATION
I expected this visit to be challenging.
Heart wrenching at the least.
It felt so unfair for someone so young
to suffer such a terminal diagnosis.
She was quietly sitting at the table
when we walked into her home.
Direct, precise, realistic.
In charge as to what lies ahead.
She had no fears about dying.
She totally accepted her dismal fate.
"We live. We learn and grow,
and then we die."
Life and death were so simple to her.
Everything was just black and white.
She had a loving family and many friends;
calmly moving forward one day at a time.
She coped by seeing the goodness in each day.
She embraced what came her way.
She used light humor to cope;
appreciating all that she had.
My expectations never materialized.
She was so wise beyond her years.
An amazing teacher to us all.
Living her life truthfully;
the only way she knows;
her way.
Prior to the visit, I was feeling so sad as to what she had to deal with at such a young age. I had expectations of finding great sadness with feelings of unfairness. I prayed to have the words in order to give comfort.
Joy was sitting at her kitchen table when we walked in. She asked the nurse and I to sit with her. She sat so straight with a strong, precise personality. She had accepted her diagnosis and terminal status so easily. She was so matter-of-fact and realistic regarding her dismal future.
She had already initiated the End-of-Life Option Act, although wanted that available just in case she chose to go that route. She spoke so intellectually and so appreciated our visit and hospice support.
She was wise beyond her years. Life is what it is to her. She made decisions realistically without any regret or sadness. She was an amazing person with such a beautiful soul. I feel so honored to have met her.
EXPECTATION
I expected this visit to be challenging.
Heart wrenching at the least.
It felt so unfair for someone so young
to suffer such a terminal diagnosis.
She was quietly sitting at the table
when we walked into her home.
Direct, precise, realistic.
In charge as to what lies ahead.
She had no fears about dying.
She totally accepted her dismal fate.
"We live. We learn and grow,
and then we die."
Life and death were so simple to her.
Everything was just black and white.
She had a loving family and many friends;
calmly moving forward one day at a time.
She coped by seeing the goodness in each day.
She embraced what came her way.
She used light humor to cope;
appreciating all that she had.
My expectations never materialized.
She was so wise beyond her years.
An amazing teacher to us all.
Living her life truthfully;
the only way she knows;
her way.
Sunday, November 11, 2018
SIX WEEKS
“Susan” suffers from a rare neurological disease that was diagnosed seven years ago. The first symptoms she and her husband, “Bill” noticed was that she could not find the right words to express what she was trying to say. Throughout the seven years, Susan continues to slowly decline. She is wobbly on her feet and needs someone to hold onto her when she walks.
Susan has so much expression in her face. She tries so hard to say a word or two, but her words are garbled and make no sense. You can see the frustration on her face and she will either get very angry or cry so hard. Her emotions fluctuate so extremely. During the hospice’s nurse and my visit, we witnessed so many emotional up and downs with her.
My heart just felt such sadness as to all that she has been through. I have done hospice for many years and still have no understanding as to why anyone has to go through so much trauma and pain. She made me feel so grateful for all that I have; especially good health.
Susan is still giving out to others as she has taught me to embrace each moment as that is all that any of us have. Thank you Susan.
SIX WEEKS
Reading her extensive medical history,
one assumed she was elderly and frail.
One was truly convinced upon meeting her
as poor health left her vulnerable and weak.
She suffers from a rare neurological disease
that was diagnosed seven years ago.
She’s been in a slow, but steady decline.
Becoming more dependent each day.
She cannot understand or speak any words,
although tries so hard to let her needs be known.
She will get angry and frustrated;
then suddenly cry heart wrenching tears.
He has so much love and patience with her.
He’s kind with a gentle touch.
He’s lost his beautiful wife seven years ago
knowing she will never be coming back.
I connected with her emotionally.
It’s like she knew how much I cared.
She smiled and held my hand so tightly
making it hard for me to let go.
She immediately impacted my heart so deeply.
Sheer sadness as to what all she’s been through.
“There for but the grace of God go I”
as, surprisingly, I am
six weeks older than she.
Susan has so much expression in her face. She tries so hard to say a word or two, but her words are garbled and make no sense. You can see the frustration on her face and she will either get very angry or cry so hard. Her emotions fluctuate so extremely. During the hospice’s nurse and my visit, we witnessed so many emotional up and downs with her.
My heart just felt such sadness as to all that she has been through. I have done hospice for many years and still have no understanding as to why anyone has to go through so much trauma and pain. She made me feel so grateful for all that I have; especially good health.
Susan is still giving out to others as she has taught me to embrace each moment as that is all that any of us have. Thank you Susan.
SIX WEEKS
Reading her extensive medical history,
one assumed she was elderly and frail.
One was truly convinced upon meeting her
as poor health left her vulnerable and weak.
She suffers from a rare neurological disease
that was diagnosed seven years ago.
She’s been in a slow, but steady decline.
Becoming more dependent each day.
She cannot understand or speak any words,
although tries so hard to let her needs be known.
She will get angry and frustrated;
then suddenly cry heart wrenching tears.
He has so much love and patience with her.
He’s kind with a gentle touch.
He’s lost his beautiful wife seven years ago
knowing she will never be coming back.
I connected with her emotionally.
It’s like she knew how much I cared.
She smiled and held my hand so tightly
making it hard for me to let go.
She immediately impacted my heart so deeply.
Sheer sadness as to what all she’s been through.
“There for but the grace of God go I”
as, surprisingly, I am
six weeks older than she.
Saturday, November 3, 2018
AGE
The hospice nurse and I met with "Sophia's" daughter, "Ann", at the hospital yesterday to discuss our hospice program and the supports that are available. Sophia has spent two weeks in the hospital with treatment for her damaged lungs. Prior to this hospitalization, Sophia had been living alone in her own home.
Now, Sophia, is totally dependent with all of her needs. She is confused, weak, bedridden and only mumbles a few words at a time. Ann's priority is to do what she thinks is best for her mom. Her goal is to discharge her mom home.
The same nurse and I went out this afternoon to Sophia's home as she was discharged home this morning. Sophia has not eaten or taken in any fluid for days. It is obvious that she is dying, but her daughter cannot even go there. A large part of grief is denial. Denial allows one to grasp the reality in baby steps. Ann has a medical background and wants to do tasks that will make mom stronger and return her back to her recent baseline. Emotionally Ann admits that she is on a "roller coaster ride." Intellectually, I know she knows the truth.
It is always amazing to me as age has nothing to do with one's grief. Ann is losing her mother. That loss is huge. If I have a 90 year old patient, I tell family that mom could be 190 years old and you would feel the same, "It is much too soon."
I hope Ann the best and fortunately our hospice program follows up for thirteen months with bereavement support. This is a perfect example on how powerful grief is for all of us.
AGE
Her mother's decline has been quick.
Two months ago, she was living alone.
Now she is confused, bedridden,
not talking and totally dependent.
The daughter's focus is all about mom.
Her, "I want to be in charge", statement says it all.
She is a nurse practitioner and knows medicine,
but can't accept mom likely only has days.
She has hired full time attendants
making sure mom has total care.
She struggles taking care of herself,
seldom going home to rest.
Mom is no longer eating or drinking
as chokes on food and water.
We discussed the end of life expectations,
but daughter may still want a feeding tube.
"What would your mom tell you to do?
She's trusted you to express her wishes."
"She will get stronger. She just has to.
I can't talk about those things!"
Mom turned ninety-eight months ago.
Daughter can only mourn losing her mom.
In the end it is beautifully only about love
as, when grieving, age is by no means ever
an important matter at all.
Now, Sophia, is totally dependent with all of her needs. She is confused, weak, bedridden and only mumbles a few words at a time. Ann's priority is to do what she thinks is best for her mom. Her goal is to discharge her mom home.
The same nurse and I went out this afternoon to Sophia's home as she was discharged home this morning. Sophia has not eaten or taken in any fluid for days. It is obvious that she is dying, but her daughter cannot even go there. A large part of grief is denial. Denial allows one to grasp the reality in baby steps. Ann has a medical background and wants to do tasks that will make mom stronger and return her back to her recent baseline. Emotionally Ann admits that she is on a "roller coaster ride." Intellectually, I know she knows the truth.
It is always amazing to me as age has nothing to do with one's grief. Ann is losing her mother. That loss is huge. If I have a 90 year old patient, I tell family that mom could be 190 years old and you would feel the same, "It is much too soon."
I hope Ann the best and fortunately our hospice program follows up for thirteen months with bereavement support. This is a perfect example on how powerful grief is for all of us.
AGE
Her mother's decline has been quick.
Two months ago, she was living alone.
Now she is confused, bedridden,
not talking and totally dependent.
The daughter's focus is all about mom.
Her, "I want to be in charge", statement says it all.
She is a nurse practitioner and knows medicine,
but can't accept mom likely only has days.
She has hired full time attendants
making sure mom has total care.
She struggles taking care of herself,
seldom going home to rest.
Mom is no longer eating or drinking
as chokes on food and water.
We discussed the end of life expectations,
but daughter may still want a feeding tube.
"What would your mom tell you to do?
She's trusted you to express her wishes."
"She will get stronger. She just has to.
I can't talk about those things!"
Mom turned ninety-eight months ago.
Daughter can only mourn losing her mom.
In the end it is beautifully only about love
as, when grieving, age is by no means ever
an important matter at all.
Saturday, October 27, 2018
SPIRIT
From the moment I became a social worker, I have naturally let go prior to walking into a hospital room or a patient's home. I allow the visit to flow where it naturally flows. Quite often, when there is an emotional moment, thoughts just pop into my head. I truly believe it is from above with my spirit guiding me. I trust these sudden thoughts, even though often it may not be my words. Whenever I do, it is always the perfect words. I feel it is not me, but guidance from above.
We admitted, "Amanda" ninety-two today. She suffered a major stroke one week ago. She is now imminent with her death likely in 1-2 days. Amanda can no longer speak but, although sleepy, totally understands and is aware and oriented. She has three amazing and loving children who were all at the bedside.
Amanda is in a nursing home as was working with physical therapy after her stroke. She could not participate with the therapist due to her tremendous weakness. Her children escorted the hospice nurse and I into her room. All of the children and their spouses were there comforting her with their words and stroking her arms.
I went up to Amanda to say hi and spoke about her children and what a wonderful job she did raising all of them. I then continued, "It is okay for you to fly over to the other side when you are ready. We will follow up to support your children as needed." Those were so not my words. I have never used the term, "Fly over" before. She could not verbally respond but I know she heard me as she softly cried.
Later when meeting with the three children and their spouses in a conference room, Amanda's son brought up the words I used, "When you fly over to the other side." He said those were the perfect words to say to his mother. It always surprises me, but also humbles me as it is the other side that helps me to support a family.
During that same meeting, I was guided again by my spirit when talking with Amanda's daughter. Her words touched me so deeply. I will continue to trust my spirit and hopefully will always be able to channel guidance from above.
SPIRIT
When meeting new people
either in the hospital or in their home,
I have always just naturally let go
allowing the visit to spiritually flow.
It happened again today.
I was guided from above.
My spirit spoke loud and clear
giving me the words to share.
This family’s love flowed so strongly
to their mother and to each other.
They spoke their beautiful words so softly
while tenderly stroking her arms.
Their grief was so evident,
by their stories and their tears.
There was laughter with the stories
while love fully absorbed the room.
While speculating about the afterlife,
her daughter shared her grief through tears.
My own out-of-body experience then popped into my head.
A gentle guidance from my spirit above.
I shared my story of five years ago
when her tears again began to flow.
“You have helped me more than you will ever know.
I cannot thank you enough.”
Spirit guides me in ways I may not have chosen.
I must dutifully remember, and never forget,
to always and forevermore
trust spirit to guide me
with its divine, natural flow.
We admitted, "Amanda" ninety-two today. She suffered a major stroke one week ago. She is now imminent with her death likely in 1-2 days. Amanda can no longer speak but, although sleepy, totally understands and is aware and oriented. She has three amazing and loving children who were all at the bedside.
Amanda is in a nursing home as was working with physical therapy after her stroke. She could not participate with the therapist due to her tremendous weakness. Her children escorted the hospice nurse and I into her room. All of the children and their spouses were there comforting her with their words and stroking her arms.
I went up to Amanda to say hi and spoke about her children and what a wonderful job she did raising all of them. I then continued, "It is okay for you to fly over to the other side when you are ready. We will follow up to support your children as needed." Those were so not my words. I have never used the term, "Fly over" before. She could not verbally respond but I know she heard me as she softly cried.
Later when meeting with the three children and their spouses in a conference room, Amanda's son brought up the words I used, "When you fly over to the other side." He said those were the perfect words to say to his mother. It always surprises me, but also humbles me as it is the other side that helps me to support a family.
During that same meeting, I was guided again by my spirit when talking with Amanda's daughter. Her words touched me so deeply. I will continue to trust my spirit and hopefully will always be able to channel guidance from above.
SPIRIT
When meeting new people
either in the hospital or in their home,
I have always just naturally let go
allowing the visit to spiritually flow.
It happened again today.
I was guided from above.
My spirit spoke loud and clear
giving me the words to share.
This family’s love flowed so strongly
to their mother and to each other.
They spoke their beautiful words so softly
while tenderly stroking her arms.
Their grief was so evident,
by their stories and their tears.
There was laughter with the stories
while love fully absorbed the room.
While speculating about the afterlife,
her daughter shared her grief through tears.
My own out-of-body experience then popped into my head.
A gentle guidance from my spirit above.
I shared my story of five years ago
when her tears again began to flow.
“You have helped me more than you will ever know.
I cannot thank you enough.”
Spirit guides me in ways I may not have chosen.
I must dutifully remember, and never forget,
to always and forevermore
trust spirit to guide me
with its divine, natural flow.
Saturday, October 6, 2018
ALWAYS HALF FULL
The hospice nurse and I went out to meet seventy-three year old, "Bette". Bette suffers from lung disease. In addition, she has numerous other chronic illnesses. Bette has been divorced for "many, many years" and has three children. None of her children ever come around and visit her. She has been estranged from them for years.
Bette lives with a live-in caretaker, "Jan". It is so obvious from the moment you meet the two of them how much they care for each other. Jan is right by Bette's side whenever she needs help. Bette is slowly declining and needing more and more help as time goes by. Bette is aware of her decline and knows that her time is limited. Her primary focus is getting a bit stronger in order to take a few steps into her recliner from her hospital bed. Her doctor has ordered Home Care to come out and have a Physical Therapist work with Bette. The Physical Therapist is scheduled through next week. Bette's insurance will not pay for hospice while Home Care is coming out as will only cover one benefit at a time.
I have a strong feeling that Bette will call us to come onto hospice once Home Care has ended. She does qualify for our program, but first her primary focus is to be able to sit in her recliner. She was so happy that we were there for her to share her life stories with us. I was so impressed at her beautiful, positive attitude. That upbeat personality is a strong reason that she is able to wake up each morning with a smile on her face. I wish her the best.
ALWAYS HALF FULL
No matter what her life brings,
she sees it all in such a positive way.
She'll tell you that her glass is never empty,
but always, continually half full.
Her health has dramatically crippled her,
leaving her dependent with all of her needs.
Her children never come around.
She hasn't seen them for more than fifteen years.
She'll share her stories; her difficult times,
but then quickly will disclose her blessings;
the people in her life; her strong Christian faith.
Letting you know her glass is indeed half full.
She wants the strength to get into her recliner,
but can only sit on the side of her bed.
Physically Therapy is coming for one more week.
She hopes that's enough to get into her comfy chair.
Her needs are slowly increasing; she requires more help.
Her live-in caretaker is indeed her best friend.
She has no fears about dying,
but is content at how things are.
She'll then present you with a great big smile,
letting you know that yes,
her glass is always and forever,
at least half full.
Bette lives with a live-in caretaker, "Jan". It is so obvious from the moment you meet the two of them how much they care for each other. Jan is right by Bette's side whenever she needs help. Bette is slowly declining and needing more and more help as time goes by. Bette is aware of her decline and knows that her time is limited. Her primary focus is getting a bit stronger in order to take a few steps into her recliner from her hospital bed. Her doctor has ordered Home Care to come out and have a Physical Therapist work with Bette. The Physical Therapist is scheduled through next week. Bette's insurance will not pay for hospice while Home Care is coming out as will only cover one benefit at a time.
I have a strong feeling that Bette will call us to come onto hospice once Home Care has ended. She does qualify for our program, but first her primary focus is to be able to sit in her recliner. She was so happy that we were there for her to share her life stories with us. I was so impressed at her beautiful, positive attitude. That upbeat personality is a strong reason that she is able to wake up each morning with a smile on her face. I wish her the best.
ALWAYS HALF FULL
No matter what her life brings,
she sees it all in such a positive way.
She'll tell you that her glass is never empty,
but always, continually half full.
Her health has dramatically crippled her,
leaving her dependent with all of her needs.
Her children never come around.
She hasn't seen them for more than fifteen years.
She'll share her stories; her difficult times,
but then quickly will disclose her blessings;
the people in her life; her strong Christian faith.
Letting you know her glass is indeed half full.
She wants the strength to get into her recliner,
but can only sit on the side of her bed.
Physically Therapy is coming for one more week.
She hopes that's enough to get into her comfy chair.
Her needs are slowly increasing; she requires more help.
Her live-in caretaker is indeed her best friend.
She has no fears about dying,
but is content at how things are.
She'll then present you with a great big smile,
letting you know that yes,
her glass is always and forever,
at least half full.
Sunday, September 23, 2018
WANT HIM HOME
"Richard", fifty-two, was diagnosed with brain cancer two months ago. The doctors tried many treatment procedures with no positive outcomes. Richard is now in the hospital ICU and unresponsive. Richard's three siblings, are by his side. They have told the hospital staff that they want to take their brother home.
There was concern that Richard may not be strong enough to survive an ambulance ride home. The hospital staff heard what the family was saying and totally supported them in doing what needed to be done for Richard to be able to go home.
I was asked by hospice to meet with the family to discuss the positives and negatives that could occur with this plan. Meeting with the three siblings at the hospital touched my heart so deeply. Their total focus was on their brother and his wishes. It was so beautiful. I spoke of the many options that may occur; one being Richard may die prior to discharge or on the journey home. The family were aware and understood, but having their brother home was their foremost objective. They were so focused on fulfilling their brother's final wish.
I was saddened to hear their story, but my heart was also touched so deeply by their love for their brother. I was so determined to do what I could do to help get their brother home. I encouraged the siblings to inform Richard to hang in there as he will be home tomorrow. The hospice nurse and I will be at Richards home tomorrow morning waiting for his arrival. I know he will let go when it is right for him. I so hope he does make it home.
ADDENDUM: Richard was safely discharged to home. He died peacefully the following morning with his family at the bedside.
WANT HIM HOME
A recent cancer diagnosis
has left him hospitalized for weeks.
No treatment was effective.
He's just been getting worse.
He is now minimally responsive,
but knows his family is all around.
He likely has only a few days at most.
They just want him home.
I met with his family and three nurses today
in a private space near his room.
We spoke of his terminal prognosis
and options on how to safely get him home.
They spoke with their hearts about their brother,
while loving him completely with their souls.
The truly know what his wishes would be;
"We just want him home."
Hearing their story left me feeling so terribly sad.
Wanting to do what I could do to support this family.
But on the other hand, their love was truly amazing
embracing me with pure beauty.
He will be discharged to home tomorrow morning.
We will be there when he arrives
offering all of them comfort and support.
But most important, we'll be able to say,
"Welcome home."
There was concern that Richard may not be strong enough to survive an ambulance ride home. The hospital staff heard what the family was saying and totally supported them in doing what needed to be done for Richard to be able to go home.
I was asked by hospice to meet with the family to discuss the positives and negatives that could occur with this plan. Meeting with the three siblings at the hospital touched my heart so deeply. Their total focus was on their brother and his wishes. It was so beautiful. I spoke of the many options that may occur; one being Richard may die prior to discharge or on the journey home. The family were aware and understood, but having their brother home was their foremost objective. They were so focused on fulfilling their brother's final wish.
I was saddened to hear their story, but my heart was also touched so deeply by their love for their brother. I was so determined to do what I could do to help get their brother home. I encouraged the siblings to inform Richard to hang in there as he will be home tomorrow. The hospice nurse and I will be at Richards home tomorrow morning waiting for his arrival. I know he will let go when it is right for him. I so hope he does make it home.
ADDENDUM: Richard was safely discharged to home. He died peacefully the following morning with his family at the bedside.
WANT HIM HOME
A recent cancer diagnosis
has left him hospitalized for weeks.
No treatment was effective.
He's just been getting worse.
He is now minimally responsive,
but knows his family is all around.
He likely has only a few days at most.
They just want him home.
I met with his family and three nurses today
in a private space near his room.
We spoke of his terminal prognosis
and options on how to safely get him home.
They spoke with their hearts about their brother,
while loving him completely with their souls.
The truly know what his wishes would be;
"We just want him home."
Hearing their story left me feeling so terribly sad.
Wanting to do what I could do to support this family.
But on the other hand, their love was truly amazing
embracing me with pure beauty.
He will be discharged to home tomorrow morning.
We will be there when he arrives
offering all of them comfort and support.
But most important, we'll be able to say,
"Welcome home."
Saturday, September 15, 2018
HER BASIC NEED
We received a referral from a local hospital to meet with one of their patients and talk with her about comfort care measures and hospice support. Our hospice often does "Informational Visits" to educate patients and families about our program. I love doing these types of visits as it gives family knowledge about our program and answers a lot of questions for them. It helps patients and families know if and when they are ready for hospice.
"Jeanine, sixty-four, had a long history of lung disease. She was admitted into the hospital due to a respiratory emergency. She was in the ICU as needed a lot of medical attention. I spoke with the staff who informed me that Jeanine was declining on a daily basis. She was becoming weaker by the day.
Jeanine had family living several hours north of us. She knew she needed Skilled Nursing Placement and was hoping the staff could locate a facility in that area near her family. Due to Jeanine's medical needs, it will be a huge challenge in just finding a facility. After talking with Jeanine, I sensed she knew she likely would never leave the hospital.
It was a bit difficult talking with her as she spoke so softly and slowly. I held her hand while we spoke hoping to give her comfort. It just broke my heart seeing what she was going through. She had so much taken away from her due to her illness that her only want was her basic need of not being short of breath.
I hope Jeanine finds her comfort and her peace. I am praying and rooting for her.
HER BASIC NEED
They said to talk about hospice;
about comfort care and her grief.
Her daughter died four years ago.
"She'll mention her when you talk."
She was just lying quietly there
as I walked into the hospital room.
Almost too weak to talk.
Long pauses between each word.
She spoke about being short of breath,
but then quietly told me about her daughter.
Truly believing she's in a better place,
while her face just shined motherly love.
She immediately changed the subject back
to how hard it was to breathe.
She wanted to be strongly sedated
so the struggle would go away.
I spoke about hospice support.
How comfort care is what they do best.
Physical, spiritual, emotional.
They are so successful in what they do.
She was declining rapidly.
Getting weaker by each day.
I sensed she knew she wasn't getting better.
Also aware she'll never make it home.
She appeared content after we spoke.
I hope I gave reassurance about her basic need.
There is treatment so that never again
will she ever have to be
short of breath.
"Jeanine, sixty-four, had a long history of lung disease. She was admitted into the hospital due to a respiratory emergency. She was in the ICU as needed a lot of medical attention. I spoke with the staff who informed me that Jeanine was declining on a daily basis. She was becoming weaker by the day.
Jeanine had family living several hours north of us. She knew she needed Skilled Nursing Placement and was hoping the staff could locate a facility in that area near her family. Due to Jeanine's medical needs, it will be a huge challenge in just finding a facility. After talking with Jeanine, I sensed she knew she likely would never leave the hospital.
It was a bit difficult talking with her as she spoke so softly and slowly. I held her hand while we spoke hoping to give her comfort. It just broke my heart seeing what she was going through. She had so much taken away from her due to her illness that her only want was her basic need of not being short of breath.
I hope Jeanine finds her comfort and her peace. I am praying and rooting for her.
HER BASIC NEED
They said to talk about hospice;
about comfort care and her grief.
Her daughter died four years ago.
"She'll mention her when you talk."
She was just lying quietly there
as I walked into the hospital room.
Almost too weak to talk.
Long pauses between each word.
She spoke about being short of breath,
but then quietly told me about her daughter.
Truly believing she's in a better place,
while her face just shined motherly love.
She immediately changed the subject back
to how hard it was to breathe.
She wanted to be strongly sedated
so the struggle would go away.
I spoke about hospice support.
How comfort care is what they do best.
Physical, spiritual, emotional.
They are so successful in what they do.
She was declining rapidly.
Getting weaker by each day.
I sensed she knew she wasn't getting better.
Also aware she'll never make it home.
She appeared content after we spoke.
I hope I gave reassurance about her basic need.
There is treatment so that never again
will she ever have to be
short of breath.
Sunday, September 9, 2018
MOM'S WISHES
We admitted, "Linda", ninety-two, to our hospice program today. Linda has five daughters. Two of her daughters live nearby; while the other three reside out of state. Linda has been in a recent decline due to heart disease. She was hospitalized last week and discharged back home today.
All five of her daughters were at her side. Mom's biggest complaint is weakness and having trouble swallowing. Her diet has to be pureed in order for her to get any nutrition. Two weeks ago, Linda was able to walk independently. Now she struggles to get up out of her chair needing a lot of assistance.
Linda easily verbalizes her wishes. She is ready for this all to be over. She has strong spiritual beliefs and has no fears about dying. Today, she expressed to her family that she will stop eating and drinking, hoping it will hurry her death along. All of her daughters, lovingly claim they want to follow Mom's wishes, but each of them have a different interpretation of what she wants.
The patient's words are so direct and clear. The hospice nurse and I totally understand that she is ready to die and wants to do what she can to hurry things along. We spoke with the daughters about hospice's goal is to follow the patient's wishes. On the other hand, we also understand that it is not an easy thing for any of us to allow someone we love to go.
The patient has no quality of life and strongly does not want to live this way. Hopefully with hospice's support and guidance, we can help the patient and her family to cope with what lies ahead for all of them.
MOM'S WISHES
She's been so independent
for all of her 90 plus years.
She has always done life her way;
being determined, focused and strong.
That's what her daughters love about her.
She always speaks her truth.
A wonderful, loving mother to them,
but now she is taking care of herself.
Her recent decline has been swift.
She's become dependent and needs a lot of help.
She doesn't want to live this way,
"I am so ready for all of this to be over."
She has chosen to stop eating or drinking
hoping it will hurry things along.
"I didn't think dying would be this hard.
When will I be done?"
Her five daughters want to follow Mom's wishes,
but none can agree with the others.
They ask her and listen to what she says,
but each clearly defends what they hear in her words.
They will bicker; they will fight
trying to strongly defend their side.
All knowing she is ready to die,
with none able to let her go.
There is no right or wrong way to die.
It is such an individual want.
We will continue to follow her wishes;
while helping her daughters
to follow and respect them too.
All five of her daughters were at her side. Mom's biggest complaint is weakness and having trouble swallowing. Her diet has to be pureed in order for her to get any nutrition. Two weeks ago, Linda was able to walk independently. Now she struggles to get up out of her chair needing a lot of assistance.
Linda easily verbalizes her wishes. She is ready for this all to be over. She has strong spiritual beliefs and has no fears about dying. Today, she expressed to her family that she will stop eating and drinking, hoping it will hurry her death along. All of her daughters, lovingly claim they want to follow Mom's wishes, but each of them have a different interpretation of what she wants.
The patient's words are so direct and clear. The hospice nurse and I totally understand that she is ready to die and wants to do what she can to hurry things along. We spoke with the daughters about hospice's goal is to follow the patient's wishes. On the other hand, we also understand that it is not an easy thing for any of us to allow someone we love to go.
The patient has no quality of life and strongly does not want to live this way. Hopefully with hospice's support and guidance, we can help the patient and her family to cope with what lies ahead for all of them.
MOM'S WISHES
She's been so independent
for all of her 90 plus years.
She has always done life her way;
being determined, focused and strong.
That's what her daughters love about her.
She always speaks her truth.
A wonderful, loving mother to them,
but now she is taking care of herself.
Her recent decline has been swift.
She's become dependent and needs a lot of help.
She doesn't want to live this way,
"I am so ready for all of this to be over."
She has chosen to stop eating or drinking
hoping it will hurry things along.
"I didn't think dying would be this hard.
When will I be done?"
Her five daughters want to follow Mom's wishes,
but none can agree with the others.
They ask her and listen to what she says,
but each clearly defends what they hear in her words.
They will bicker; they will fight
trying to strongly defend their side.
All knowing she is ready to die,
with none able to let her go.
There is no right or wrong way to die.
It is such an individual want.
We will continue to follow her wishes;
while helping her daughters
to follow and respect them too.
Saturday, September 1, 2018
SHE CRIED
We received an urgent referral to admit, "Kathy", sixty-two years of age, to our hospice program. Kathy was diagnosed with brain cancer one year ago. Even though Kathy had been through continuous treatment., her cancer continued to grow. Kathy and her husband, “Ken”, were just informed two days ago that there is no more treatment available to help her.
Reading Kathy’s chart, prior to going out to do the visit, made me so sad. As it spoke about her symptoms, it added anxiety, depression and how often she cries. Reading that in her chart, my thought was, “I don’t blame her. I would likely feel the same way."
Kathy earned her PhD in Psychology and did so much amazing work with children. She was renowned for creating multiple children’s programs. She was published and taught classes at the local State University.
Kathy’s suffered from right sided paralysis and needed a wheelchair to maneuver around. She needed help with navigating her wheelchair. Kathy also suffered from expressive aphasia which meant she totally understood what was being said to her, but could not verbalize or speak any proper words to reflect what she wanted to say.
The hospice nurse and I sat around the kitchen table with Kathy and Ken. Throughout the visit, Kathy quite often would cry. She would try to verbalize a thought and could only speak one word or two. You could see frustration in her face. She and her husband are still processing the news they received two days ago. In addition, I am sure by the nurse and I describing hospice supports, reality burst forth as well.
My goal, as with every hospice patient, is to give them support to deal with their illness in the way that works for them. With my words to Kathy, I was wanting to give her much needed support. After the visit, the sadness I felt remained. I hope and pray I was helpful and not hurtful. If not my words, I hope the softness in my voice gave comfort.
SHE CRIED
Reading her chart
before I met her,
I felt so sad.
Life can be so unfair.
A brain cancer diagnosis
only one year ago this month.
Chemo, radiation, medication.
Her cancer continued to grow.
She has right sided paralysis.
Needing a wheelchair to get around.
Depression, anxiety, memory loss.
Frequent charting of how she cried.
She totally understands what you are saying,
but cannot express any words.
Her brilliant mind is trapped inside her body.
Throughout the visit, she so easily cried.
I shared that her family and friends so love her.
Not because she's published a book, or set up programs,
but because of who she is; her heart and her soul.
of which she will always and forever be.
I don't know if she was comforted or saddened
as I expressed my words of support.
It broke my heart to see her pain
as it was again that her emotions did show
as she suddenly
and so tearfully cried.
Reading Kathy’s chart, prior to going out to do the visit, made me so sad. As it spoke about her symptoms, it added anxiety, depression and how often she cries. Reading that in her chart, my thought was, “I don’t blame her. I would likely feel the same way."
Kathy earned her PhD in Psychology and did so much amazing work with children. She was renowned for creating multiple children’s programs. She was published and taught classes at the local State University.
Kathy’s suffered from right sided paralysis and needed a wheelchair to maneuver around. She needed help with navigating her wheelchair. Kathy also suffered from expressive aphasia which meant she totally understood what was being said to her, but could not verbalize or speak any proper words to reflect what she wanted to say.
The hospice nurse and I sat around the kitchen table with Kathy and Ken. Throughout the visit, Kathy quite often would cry. She would try to verbalize a thought and could only speak one word or two. You could see frustration in her face. She and her husband are still processing the news they received two days ago. In addition, I am sure by the nurse and I describing hospice supports, reality burst forth as well.
My goal, as with every hospice patient, is to give them support to deal with their illness in the way that works for them. With my words to Kathy, I was wanting to give her much needed support. After the visit, the sadness I felt remained. I hope and pray I was helpful and not hurtful. If not my words, I hope the softness in my voice gave comfort.
SHE CRIED
Reading her chart
before I met her,
I felt so sad.
Life can be so unfair.
A brain cancer diagnosis
only one year ago this month.
Chemo, radiation, medication.
Her cancer continued to grow.
She has right sided paralysis.
Needing a wheelchair to get around.
Depression, anxiety, memory loss.
Frequent charting of how she cried.
She totally understands what you are saying,
but cannot express any words.
Her brilliant mind is trapped inside her body.
Throughout the visit, she so easily cried.
I shared that her family and friends so love her.
Not because she's published a book, or set up programs,
but because of who she is; her heart and her soul.
of which she will always and forever be.
I don't know if she was comforted or saddened
as I expressed my words of support.
It broke my heart to see her pain
as it was again that her emotions did show
as she suddenly
and so tearfully cried.
Sunday, August 26, 2018
WHY?
The hospice nurse and I went out to admit, "John", to our hospice program. John was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's Disease five months ago. John was a very determined individual. He honestly spoke what was on his mind. He did not want to live this way. Moments after we entered his home, he brought up the End-of-Life Option Act.
John had this strong belief that it was his time to go as did not want to be dependent. He had a strong love for his wife of thirty-four years. He wanted to make sure she would be okay after he was gone. John recently paid off their home loan to make sure she would not have any financial burdens. His love for her was so clear.
A strong sense of sadness overwhelmed me during the visit. I did not understand why. The nurse and I spoke after the visit. Both of us felt strong sadness for this patient and his wife.
A few hours later, I started to see how similar he was to my friend Amye, who died two weeks ago today. Such similar personalities and stories. The beauty of deep love between this couple; along with sadness regarding his terminal prognosis.
Grief is so unpredictable. It comes and goes so randomly. Throughout my career, grief counseling has been such a strong component of what I do. But, when it is on a personal level, I did not recognize my own emotions. Grief, no matter what form it presents, is so normal for us all.
WHY?
It was a routine admission.
We went out to meet both he and his wife.
He told us about his needs; his wishes.
He definitely told us his truth.
I quickly felt a heaviness deep inside;
along with a strong emotion of sadness.
I really didn't understand why.
Although, a while later, it all made sense.
He immediately spoke about his end of life;
not wanting to live this way.
It was the same determination she had.
Matter of fact with strong needs.
His diagnosis was recent; as was hers.
Both terminal from the start.
Treatment options available
with a slow decline.
He cared so much about his family;
as she did about hers.
Never to be a burden to anyone.
Ready for it all to be over.
I truly understood.
I've so recently been there before.
No longer needing to ask,
Why?
John had this strong belief that it was his time to go as did not want to be dependent. He had a strong love for his wife of thirty-four years. He wanted to make sure she would be okay after he was gone. John recently paid off their home loan to make sure she would not have any financial burdens. His love for her was so clear.
A strong sense of sadness overwhelmed me during the visit. I did not understand why. The nurse and I spoke after the visit. Both of us felt strong sadness for this patient and his wife.
A few hours later, I started to see how similar he was to my friend Amye, who died two weeks ago today. Such similar personalities and stories. The beauty of deep love between this couple; along with sadness regarding his terminal prognosis.
Grief is so unpredictable. It comes and goes so randomly. Throughout my career, grief counseling has been such a strong component of what I do. But, when it is on a personal level, I did not recognize my own emotions. Grief, no matter what form it presents, is so normal for us all.
WHY?
It was a routine admission.
We went out to meet both he and his wife.
He told us about his needs; his wishes.
He definitely told us his truth.
I quickly felt a heaviness deep inside;
along with a strong emotion of sadness.
I really didn't understand why.
Although, a while later, it all made sense.
He immediately spoke about his end of life;
not wanting to live this way.
It was the same determination she had.
Matter of fact with strong needs.
His diagnosis was recent; as was hers.
Both terminal from the start.
Treatment options available
with a slow decline.
He cared so much about his family;
as she did about hers.
Never to be a burden to anyone.
Ready for it all to be over.
I truly understood.
I've so recently been there before.
No longer needing to ask,
Why?
Saturday, August 18, 2018
LET ME KNOW
"Aunt Sylvia", eighty-three, suffered a major stroke ten days ago. After a short hospital stay she was transferred to a skilled nursing facility for rehab to help her get stronger. Aunt Sylvia's disease continued to progress to where the physical therapy did not help at all. It was, at that time, that the medical staff and family all knew that her time was near.
The family moved her to a small Board and Care Home in order to allow her disease to run its natural course in comfort. I went out to do a visit today to give the family support. I found Aunt Sylvia unresponsive with erratic breathing. She had long pauses between breaths. The patient's niece, "Kim", was sitting at the bedside.
Kim immediately started to share stories about her aunt's life. Kim so respected her aunt and told me beautiful stories about the wonderful events her aunt experienced throughout her life. The life review validated her aunt's impact on all of the family. Her aunt looked so beautiful lying there. It was such a gift that Kim gave me by sharing these lovely stories. We both benefited from them. I was at the bedside a little less than an hour, but felt I truly knew Aunt Sylvia by the time I left. Thank you Kim.
ADDENDUM: Hours later, in the middle of the night, Aunt Sylvia died peacefully. Kim was seated at the bedside saying her goodbyes. A beautiful gift to all.
LET ME KNOW
Her illness came on suddenly
with an unexpected, rapid decline.
Independent one day; dependent the next.
Now only hours to maybe a few days.
She is now unresponsive and bedridden,
with long pauses between breaths.
Her niece, sitting by her side; holding her hand;
telling life stories about her precious aunt.
She had to let me know how special her aunt was.
She was an environmentalist; a naturalist.
Shooting hundreds of beautiful photographs
from travels all over the world.
She was a first grade teacher.
Loving, gentle and kind to all.
Teaching her nieces all about life
through her actions, her beliefs, her heart.
Sharing her aunt's life stories
validated all the good she had done.
Wanting no one to ever forget her.
So strongly just wanting to;
just needing to;
let me know.
The family moved her to a small Board and Care Home in order to allow her disease to run its natural course in comfort. I went out to do a visit today to give the family support. I found Aunt Sylvia unresponsive with erratic breathing. She had long pauses between breaths. The patient's niece, "Kim", was sitting at the bedside.
Kim immediately started to share stories about her aunt's life. Kim so respected her aunt and told me beautiful stories about the wonderful events her aunt experienced throughout her life. The life review validated her aunt's impact on all of the family. Her aunt looked so beautiful lying there. It was such a gift that Kim gave me by sharing these lovely stories. We both benefited from them. I was at the bedside a little less than an hour, but felt I truly knew Aunt Sylvia by the time I left. Thank you Kim.
ADDENDUM: Hours later, in the middle of the night, Aunt Sylvia died peacefully. Kim was seated at the bedside saying her goodbyes. A beautiful gift to all.
LET ME KNOW
Her illness came on suddenly
with an unexpected, rapid decline.
Independent one day; dependent the next.
Now only hours to maybe a few days.
She is now unresponsive and bedridden,
with long pauses between breaths.
Her niece, sitting by her side; holding her hand;
telling life stories about her precious aunt.
She had to let me know how special her aunt was.
She was an environmentalist; a naturalist.
Shooting hundreds of beautiful photographs
from travels all over the world.
She was a first grade teacher.
Loving, gentle and kind to all.
Teaching her nieces all about life
through her actions, her beliefs, her heart.
Sharing her aunt's life stories
validated all the good she had done.
Wanting no one to ever forget her.
So strongly just wanting to;
just needing to;
let me know.
Saturday, August 11, 2018
I SO BELIEVE
I was asked to deliver some supplies to a patient’s home. When I arrived at the home, family was holding vigil. The patient was in a deep sleep and appeared comfortable. The patient’s niece, “Monica”, said that her aunt had not eaten or taken in any fluids for several days. The patient appeared imminent.
Monica didn’t know what to say to her aunt when she was asked, “What can I do?” That was when I gave her some advice about several things to share with her aunt. Monica and I spent about thirty minutes talking about end-of-life, coping and grieving. This is a very large family. They were all supportive to the patient and to each other. It was a beautiful thing to see.
I so believe that Monica did speak with her aunt right after I left as I found out later that the patient died thirty minutes after my departure. This is something I hear about quite frequently. I cannot prove it to be true at all, but I so believe it is. That is the beauty of the heart and the soul.
I SO BELIEVE
I went out to only deliver supplies.
I found family holding vigil.
She's no longer eating or drinking.
They all know her time is near.
She said her aunt has no fears
but wonders why it is taking so long.
Her Native American beliefs give her comfort.
"She is so ready to go."
She asked her niece, "What can I do?"
Her niece didn't know what to say.
I offered, "Tell her to just let go.
She'll know when her time is right."
Surrounded by her family,
thirty minutes later, she was gone.
She clearly heard her niece's words.
She knew they would be okay.
This is a frequent occurrence.
Expressions of love at the bedside.
Patients are unconscious, or so it seems,
but then their spirit; their soul clearly hears.
They are reassured by their loved ones words.
They know it is their time to go.
The depths of love and comfort surround them.
I can’t prove it while another may deny it,
but all of this
I so believe.
Monica didn’t know what to say to her aunt when she was asked, “What can I do?” That was when I gave her some advice about several things to share with her aunt. Monica and I spent about thirty minutes talking about end-of-life, coping and grieving. This is a very large family. They were all supportive to the patient and to each other. It was a beautiful thing to see.
I so believe that Monica did speak with her aunt right after I left as I found out later that the patient died thirty minutes after my departure. This is something I hear about quite frequently. I cannot prove it to be true at all, but I so believe it is. That is the beauty of the heart and the soul.
I SO BELIEVE
I went out to only deliver supplies.
I found family holding vigil.
She's no longer eating or drinking.
They all know her time is near.
She said her aunt has no fears
but wonders why it is taking so long.
Her Native American beliefs give her comfort.
"She is so ready to go."
She asked her niece, "What can I do?"
Her niece didn't know what to say.
I offered, "Tell her to just let go.
She'll know when her time is right."
Surrounded by her family,
thirty minutes later, she was gone.
She clearly heard her niece's words.
She knew they would be okay.
This is a frequent occurrence.
Expressions of love at the bedside.
Patients are unconscious, or so it seems,
but then their spirit; their soul clearly hears.
They are reassured by their loved ones words.
They know it is their time to go.
The depths of love and comfort surround them.
I can’t prove it while another may deny it,
but all of this
I so believe.
Saturday, August 4, 2018
FOUR O'CLOCK
2/18/69-7/26/18
My dear friend Amye died one week ago today. California has the End-of-life Option Act where terminally ill patients can choose to take medication to end their lives. There is a sequence of events that precede this last step; multiple visits to physicians, a psychiatrist and a pharmacist. Amye chose this option as she was so ready to go. From the initial cancer diagnosis eight months ago, Amye knew there was no cure. One thing I loved about Ayme was her ability to tell her truth. She was a straight shooter and had strong beliefs.
There are about 90 capsules that need to be opened and poured into a glass. Then you add water to dissolve the mixture. At four o’clock, without hesitation, Ayme drank the medication. Within five minutes she was in a deep sleep. For the next seven and a half hours, the only movement was Ayme’s breathing. She looked so peaceful and calm the entire time.
At her death, her face was so beautiful. She had a slight smile which let us all know she made it to the other side. I felt a sense of relief knowing that Ayme did things her way and was at total peace. For her, it doesn’t get any better than that. God Bless you dear Ayme. You will always be remembered in all of our hearts.
FOUR O'CLOCK
I was driving back to the office
when I noticed the clock said four.
It is exactly one week ago today,
at that exact time, when you willingly
swallowed those pills.
Within five minutes you were in a deep sleep.
For the next seven hours you did not move at all.
The only action involved was your breathing.
Your face was so calm; you were in peace.
You always wanted to remain in control;
never wanting to be dependent.
We all were honored and truly blessed
to witness your final farewell.
I hope you felt the love surrounding you
as we quietly said our goodbyes.
Yes, we all were so sad and grieving,
but knew you were flying high.
I will miss your sarcastic humor.
You and I laughed all of the time.
Thank you for sharing your life with me;
your greatest gift of all.
At four o'clock all of our lives did change.
It is something I will always remember.
But never forget, dear Amye,
your legacy will always
and forever
continue on.
My dear friend Amye died one week ago today. California has the End-of-life Option Act where terminally ill patients can choose to take medication to end their lives. There is a sequence of events that precede this last step; multiple visits to physicians, a psychiatrist and a pharmacist. Amye chose this option as she was so ready to go. From the initial cancer diagnosis eight months ago, Amye knew there was no cure. One thing I loved about Ayme was her ability to tell her truth. She was a straight shooter and had strong beliefs.
There are about 90 capsules that need to be opened and poured into a glass. Then you add water to dissolve the mixture. At four o’clock, without hesitation, Ayme drank the medication. Within five minutes she was in a deep sleep. For the next seven and a half hours, the only movement was Ayme’s breathing. She looked so peaceful and calm the entire time.
At her death, her face was so beautiful. She had a slight smile which let us all know she made it to the other side. I felt a sense of relief knowing that Ayme did things her way and was at total peace. For her, it doesn’t get any better than that. God Bless you dear Ayme. You will always be remembered in all of our hearts.
FOUR O'CLOCK
I was driving back to the office
when I noticed the clock said four.
It is exactly one week ago today,
at that exact time, when you willingly
swallowed those pills.
Within five minutes you were in a deep sleep.
For the next seven hours you did not move at all.
The only action involved was your breathing.
Your face was so calm; you were in peace.
You always wanted to remain in control;
never wanting to be dependent.
We all were honored and truly blessed
to witness your final farewell.
I hope you felt the love surrounding you
as we quietly said our goodbyes.
Yes, we all were so sad and grieving,
but knew you were flying high.
I will miss your sarcastic humor.
You and I laughed all of the time.
Thank you for sharing your life with me;
your greatest gift of all.
At four o'clock all of our lives did change.
It is something I will always remember.
But never forget, dear Amye,
your legacy will always
and forever
continue on.
Saturday, July 21, 2018
ON THE OTHER SIDE
I have done hospice work for over fifteen years. I am educated and trained on counseling and supporting patients and families. I love being on this side of the desk. It is so amazingly rewarding.
Sadly my friend Amye was diagnosed with cancer eight months ago. She has been through treatment and surgery, even though from the initial diagnosis, the doctor told her there is no cure, only treatment. She is amazing as is teaching me so much about life and death by sharing her heart and soul with me.
I am now on the other side of the desk; on the other side of the fence. It is a profoundly challenging experience. Amye lives about forty-five minutes away from me. I visit her twice a week. Before each visit, I struggle as I want to say and do the right things. I want to fix it and make her cancer go away. I want to do all that I know cannot be done.
The beautiful part about all of this, is Amye's trust in me by her words. It is so humbling to me. In addition, I have an amazing support network of family, friends and co-workers. Small gestures are profound to me. I am surrounded by so much love, I am truly blessed.
Thank you Amye for your gifts to me. Thank you co-workers and friends for allowing me to be where I am; and thank you dear family for just loving me. In all this sadness, beauty abounds.
ON THE OTHER SIDE
I have worked hospice for years.
I have counseled, supported,
validated and normalized
strong emotions with compelling fears.
I am now on the other side.
My dear friend was admitted to hospice.
Her recent decline is sudden.
It may be just weeks.
I visit her every three days or so.
I don't know what to say.
I truly don't know what to do.
I want to fix it; to make it go away.
I sit with her and we talk.
She is baring her soul to me.
It is humbling, but beautiful.
It helps both of us to understand.
In her dying process,
she is showing me spirituality.
Life is all about love,
but so is death.
Through her struggle, blessings thrive.
The support I am receiving is profound.
It melts my heart while bringing tears.
It helps me to easily embrace her more.
Throughout her struggle and decline,
there is an abundance of beauty; of love.
Throughout it all though, I can honestly say,
"I don't believe it will ever be effortless
for anyone when
On the other side."
Sadly my friend Amye was diagnosed with cancer eight months ago. She has been through treatment and surgery, even though from the initial diagnosis, the doctor told her there is no cure, only treatment. She is amazing as is teaching me so much about life and death by sharing her heart and soul with me.
I am now on the other side of the desk; on the other side of the fence. It is a profoundly challenging experience. Amye lives about forty-five minutes away from me. I visit her twice a week. Before each visit, I struggle as I want to say and do the right things. I want to fix it and make her cancer go away. I want to do all that I know cannot be done.
The beautiful part about all of this, is Amye's trust in me by her words. It is so humbling to me. In addition, I have an amazing support network of family, friends and co-workers. Small gestures are profound to me. I am surrounded by so much love, I am truly blessed.
Thank you Amye for your gifts to me. Thank you co-workers and friends for allowing me to be where I am; and thank you dear family for just loving me. In all this sadness, beauty abounds.
ON THE OTHER SIDE
I have worked hospice for years.
I have counseled, supported,
validated and normalized
strong emotions with compelling fears.
I am now on the other side.
My dear friend was admitted to hospice.
Her recent decline is sudden.
It may be just weeks.
I visit her every three days or so.
I don't know what to say.
I truly don't know what to do.
I want to fix it; to make it go away.
I sit with her and we talk.
She is baring her soul to me.
It is humbling, but beautiful.
It helps both of us to understand.
In her dying process,
she is showing me spirituality.
Life is all about love,
but so is death.
Through her struggle, blessings thrive.
The support I am receiving is profound.
It melts my heart while bringing tears.
It helps me to easily embrace her more.
Throughout her struggle and decline,
there is an abundance of beauty; of love.
Throughout it all though, I can honestly say,
"I don't believe it will ever be effortless
for anyone when
On the other side."
Saturday, July 14, 2018
TEACHER
"Donald," fifty-five, was diagnosed with Muscular Dystrophy over twenty years ago. He had only been married one year when the doctor told him the news. His wife, "Shelly" has been a loving and devoted wife. Just seeing the two of them together, one sees the true love and devotion between them.
Donald was very soft spoken due to weakness. The disease is now attacking his organs making it hard to breathe for him. He is hardly eating much at all as also has difficulty swallowing. Shelly says that Donald has always had a positive, uplifting personality. Even through all of his health challenges, Donald continues to have his upbeat attitude, along with some sarcastic humor.
I instantly felt a strong connection to him. He was so full of peace, grace and love. It appeared he had all of the answers to life and accepted what each day brought as a gift. I would love to be able to meet up with Donald on a daily basis in order to journal his words and beliefs. He is, and will always be, an amazing teacher. Go in peace, Donald.
TEACHER
The moment we walked in,
he instantly smiled and softly said, "Hi."
He was sitting in his electric wheelchair
with his hands helplessly by his side.
He was diagnosed twenty years ago,
never letting it get him down.
He lives his life the only way he knows;
loving his family with a positive attitude.
He has no fears about dying saying,
"Every day is a new day."
His biggest regard is his family though,
"Knowing they are living their lives".
He was so at peace.
His heart just glowed.
Gentleness, kindness, beauty.
He so gracefully had it all.
He was a fifth grade teacher,
and continues to teach today.
He taught me to cherish this moment
as that is all that we truly have.
His life is about love; about appreciation;
but the best gift of all will be his legacy.
He truly has a natural ability
to be an amazing
Teacher.
Donald was very soft spoken due to weakness. The disease is now attacking his organs making it hard to breathe for him. He is hardly eating much at all as also has difficulty swallowing. Shelly says that Donald has always had a positive, uplifting personality. Even through all of his health challenges, Donald continues to have his upbeat attitude, along with some sarcastic humor.
I instantly felt a strong connection to him. He was so full of peace, grace and love. It appeared he had all of the answers to life and accepted what each day brought as a gift. I would love to be able to meet up with Donald on a daily basis in order to journal his words and beliefs. He is, and will always be, an amazing teacher. Go in peace, Donald.
TEACHER
The moment we walked in,
he instantly smiled and softly said, "Hi."
He was sitting in his electric wheelchair
with his hands helplessly by his side.
He was diagnosed twenty years ago,
never letting it get him down.
He lives his life the only way he knows;
loving his family with a positive attitude.
He has no fears about dying saying,
"Every day is a new day."
His biggest regard is his family though,
"Knowing they are living their lives".
He was so at peace.
His heart just glowed.
Gentleness, kindness, beauty.
He so gracefully had it all.
He was a fifth grade teacher,
and continues to teach today.
He taught me to cherish this moment
as that is all that we truly have.
His life is about love; about appreciation;
but the best gift of all will be his legacy.
He truly has a natural ability
to be an amazing
Teacher.
Sunday, July 8, 2018
TOMATO FARMER
The hospice nurse and I admitted, "Will", ninety-seven to our hospice program today. Will had been hospitalized from a fall last month. He was now in a skilled nursing home as no longer able to return home. Will never married and has no family or children. Will has a very large extended group of true friends who love him as much as he loves them.
Will's closest friend, "Brenda", is very involved in his care and daily needs. The hospice nurse and I went out to meet with Will and Brenda. Will asked that we speak with Brenda without him as he was so weak. The three of us went to a meeting room at the facility to educate Brenda about hospice support and philosophy.
Brenda was about thirty years younger than Will, but lovingly shared that he always called her "Sweetheart". Brenda lived on the farm next to Will's Tomato Farm. After we were done with all of the paperwork, we went back to Will's room. I wanted to ask if he had any questions, fears or concerns. It was then when he shared how appreciative he has been of his life, "I've had a good life." I asked him about tomato farming. His face totally lit up and he eagerly shared his life as a tomato farmer.
Will's upbeat attitude helped him throughout his life in such a positive, loving way. "You are an inspiration, Will. I am so blessed to have met you!"
TOMATO FARMER
He's never been married.
He has no kids.
No family to call his own.
He has lived ninety-seven
autonomous years.
He is very friendly.
He loves to socialize.
He' s been a lifelong tomato farmer.
Living his passion; his dream.
He took a fall one month ago.
He was down and alone for half a day.
Not able to receive any help
until a friend stopped by just to say hi.
I asked him about farming tomatoes.
His eyes lit up while sharing his stories.
His passion and love was running his farm.
He was excited to disclose it all.
He's always been in charge of his life.
Now, that control is gone.
He is ready for it to be over,
although so thankful for the life he has had.
"I've had a good life.
I have no regrets.
It is now my time to go.
I am not afraid.
I am done."
Will's closest friend, "Brenda", is very involved in his care and daily needs. The hospice nurse and I went out to meet with Will and Brenda. Will asked that we speak with Brenda without him as he was so weak. The three of us went to a meeting room at the facility to educate Brenda about hospice support and philosophy.
Brenda was about thirty years younger than Will, but lovingly shared that he always called her "Sweetheart". Brenda lived on the farm next to Will's Tomato Farm. After we were done with all of the paperwork, we went back to Will's room. I wanted to ask if he had any questions, fears or concerns. It was then when he shared how appreciative he has been of his life, "I've had a good life." I asked him about tomato farming. His face totally lit up and he eagerly shared his life as a tomato farmer.
Will's upbeat attitude helped him throughout his life in such a positive, loving way. "You are an inspiration, Will. I am so blessed to have met you!"
TOMATO FARMER
He's never been married.
He has no kids.
No family to call his own.
He has lived ninety-seven
autonomous years.
He is very friendly.
He loves to socialize.
He' s been a lifelong tomato farmer.
Living his passion; his dream.
He took a fall one month ago.
He was down and alone for half a day.
Not able to receive any help
until a friend stopped by just to say hi.
I asked him about farming tomatoes.
His eyes lit up while sharing his stories.
His passion and love was running his farm.
He was excited to disclose it all.
He's always been in charge of his life.
Now, that control is gone.
He is ready for it to be over,
although so thankful for the life he has had.
"I've had a good life.
I have no regrets.
It is now my time to go.
I am not afraid.
I am done."
Saturday, June 30, 2018
BE A MAN
The hospice nurse and I went out to admit, "Charlie", eighty-eight years old, to our hospice program today. Charlie lives with his wife, "Glenda", with whom he has been married fifty-eight years. Charlie was his wife's caretaker as her health is poor.
One week ago, Charlie was doing fine and managing okay, when suddenly he was rushed to the hospital due to chest pain and having difficulty breathing. Charlie suffered a heart attack. It was then discovered that he had severe lung disease. Charlie refused any treatment and wanted to return home.
He was discharged home this morning. When the hospice nurse and I walked into Charlie's home, we met his wife and daughter, "Diana". Diana lives nearby and is very involved and supportive to her parents. Charlie was determined to continue to do his life like he has always done before, but with his weakness, he had a difficult time walking around.
Charlie shared that he did not want to live this way. He wants to be involved in his life and daily activities. He wants to take care of his wife. Charlie was very honest and straightforward. He saw life in a simple way. His primary focus was his definition of what it takes to be a man. Anything less than that was not an option for him.
He's had a history of a suicide attempt and hinted at that being an option for him today. His daughter has removed all the weapons from the home and has hired attendant care to help both of her parents. Family will closely monitor his medication in order to protect Charlie from attempting anything rash.
I respected Charlie for his honesty. He defined life pretty simply. His goal in life was to always, "Be a man".
BE A MAN
He was taught and raised,
with incredibly strong beliefs,
about what it takes
to be a man.
He must always have the strength
to conceal any weakness,
while taking care of his family
no matter what life may bring.
He has beautifully taken care of her
for over the fifty years of their marriage.
Her health has declined; she needs his help.
He has always been there right by her side.
Now he, suddenly, needs some help.
His heart and lungs are wearing out.
His decline has been rapid and severe.
"I just don't want to live this way."
He was straightforward and honest,
while sharing his thoughts of suicide ideation.
He's had one unsuccessful suicide attempt years ago.
He feels that still is an option today.
I asked him about a verbal contract with me.
"Will you call our hospice if those thoughts again arise?"
He looked at me with a quiet smile,
"I can't make that contract with you?"
We hope to give him comfort and support.
It is a tough battle to fight as we are up against
someone knowing he will likely lose
in his overwhelming struggle to simply
"Be a man."
One week ago, Charlie was doing fine and managing okay, when suddenly he was rushed to the hospital due to chest pain and having difficulty breathing. Charlie suffered a heart attack. It was then discovered that he had severe lung disease. Charlie refused any treatment and wanted to return home.
He was discharged home this morning. When the hospice nurse and I walked into Charlie's home, we met his wife and daughter, "Diana". Diana lives nearby and is very involved and supportive to her parents. Charlie was determined to continue to do his life like he has always done before, but with his weakness, he had a difficult time walking around.
Charlie shared that he did not want to live this way. He wants to be involved in his life and daily activities. He wants to take care of his wife. Charlie was very honest and straightforward. He saw life in a simple way. His primary focus was his definition of what it takes to be a man. Anything less than that was not an option for him.
He's had a history of a suicide attempt and hinted at that being an option for him today. His daughter has removed all the weapons from the home and has hired attendant care to help both of her parents. Family will closely monitor his medication in order to protect Charlie from attempting anything rash.
I respected Charlie for his honesty. He defined life pretty simply. His goal in life was to always, "Be a man".
BE A MAN
He was taught and raised,
with incredibly strong beliefs,
about what it takes
to be a man.
He must always have the strength
to conceal any weakness,
while taking care of his family
no matter what life may bring.
He has beautifully taken care of her
for over the fifty years of their marriage.
Her health has declined; she needs his help.
He has always been there right by her side.
Now he, suddenly, needs some help.
His heart and lungs are wearing out.
His decline has been rapid and severe.
"I just don't want to live this way."
He was straightforward and honest,
while sharing his thoughts of suicide ideation.
He's had one unsuccessful suicide attempt years ago.
He feels that still is an option today.
I asked him about a verbal contract with me.
"Will you call our hospice if those thoughts again arise?"
He looked at me with a quiet smile,
"I can't make that contract with you?"
We hope to give him comfort and support.
It is a tough battle to fight as we are up against
someone knowing he will likely lose
in his overwhelming struggle to simply
"Be a man."
Sunday, June 17, 2018
GO HOME
In addition to doing hospice admissions, we also will do "Informational Visits", whereby we inform patients and families about our services. I like doing these type of visits as it gives folks information about our services. So often, people perceive hospice to be all about death and dying. Yes, a patient has to be terminal, but I truly believe hospice is more about loving and living.
"John", seventy-one, had been admitted to the hospital after a fall in his home. John lives alone with his four dogs and tripped over one of the dogs. We were informed by the hospital staff that he was down twelve hours, but John stated to us that it was over twenty-four hours. I am sure it felt like an eternity to him while he was down.
John had been gruff and angry to the staff as he just wanted to be able to return home. John was now bedridden and weak. When he told me that he wanted to go home, I asked him, " How will you be able to manage that?" He had no answer.
My voice became soft while I spoke with John. He, too, had this soft, gentle voice. So much had happened to him during his life. He coped the best way he knew how. John was exposed to Agent Orange during the Vietnam War. John never wanted to have children as he did not want them to become exposed. That information, to me, truly showed his heart.
I held his hand while I thanked him for serving in the Marines. I validated his military experience. That meant a lot to him I know because as I left I added, "I hope our paths will cross again some day." He answered softly, "Me too".
I believe the best thing I did for him was to acknowledge his service to our country. He truly is a perfect example of, "All gave some. Some gave all". God Bless you John.
GO HOME
He's lived alone for years.
Just he and his four dogs.
Marines; Vietnam; Agent Orange; PTSD.
Life has not been easy for him.
He was just told his cancer has returned.
He knows that it's probably not long.
There is no one around to help care for him.
He is aware, but still wants to stay at home.
He fell and was down twelve hours.
He says it felt like it was days.
His friend finally came and found him.
He can't walk; no longer able to return home.
He's resigned himself to go to a nursing home
wishing to regain his strength.
Although knowing likely it may not happen,
he still has hope to be able to get back home.
His life is flowing a route he would never have chosen.
So much is going wrong.
He remains soft spoken and gentle while sharing,
"I just want to be able to
Go Home."
"John", seventy-one, had been admitted to the hospital after a fall in his home. John lives alone with his four dogs and tripped over one of the dogs. We were informed by the hospital staff that he was down twelve hours, but John stated to us that it was over twenty-four hours. I am sure it felt like an eternity to him while he was down.
John had been gruff and angry to the staff as he just wanted to be able to return home. John was now bedridden and weak. When he told me that he wanted to go home, I asked him, " How will you be able to manage that?" He had no answer.
My voice became soft while I spoke with John. He, too, had this soft, gentle voice. So much had happened to him during his life. He coped the best way he knew how. John was exposed to Agent Orange during the Vietnam War. John never wanted to have children as he did not want them to become exposed. That information, to me, truly showed his heart.
I held his hand while I thanked him for serving in the Marines. I validated his military experience. That meant a lot to him I know because as I left I added, "I hope our paths will cross again some day." He answered softly, "Me too".
I believe the best thing I did for him was to acknowledge his service to our country. He truly is a perfect example of, "All gave some. Some gave all". God Bless you John.
GO HOME
He's lived alone for years.
Just he and his four dogs.
Marines; Vietnam; Agent Orange; PTSD.
Life has not been easy for him.
He was just told his cancer has returned.
He knows that it's probably not long.
There is no one around to help care for him.
He is aware, but still wants to stay at home.
He fell and was down twelve hours.
He says it felt like it was days.
His friend finally came and found him.
He can't walk; no longer able to return home.
He's resigned himself to go to a nursing home
wishing to regain his strength.
Although knowing likely it may not happen,
he still has hope to be able to get back home.
His life is flowing a route he would never have chosen.
So much is going wrong.
He remains soft spoken and gentle while sharing,
"I just want to be able to
Go Home."
Saturday, June 9, 2018
"HE IS NOT DYING!"
“Allen”, eighty years old, has been suffering from lung disease for many years. He has had poor health for years secondary to a traumatic accident years ago. His decline has been slow over the years. Allen lives with his wife, “Sandra,” in their home with their two little puppies.
As the nurse and I were approaching Allen and Sandra’s front porch, Sandra came out onto the porch and snapped at us, “Are you Hospice?” She was angry that we were there and did not want to sit down with her husband to hear about our hospice program. This visit was scheduled as an informational visit only. I love doing informational visits about hospice as it educates folks about the beautiful support that comes with our program. So many mistakenly feel that when hospice shows up, their loved one dies quickly.
As we all sat down in their living room, Sandra spoke sharply about Allen’s recent hospitalization. Sandra appeared to be so unhappy and angry. I started out by normalizing her anger while validating her fears. Over the course of our one hour visit, Sandra started to mellow as she trusted us to understand her emotions in a non-judgmental manner.
Before long she was sharing stories of her years working on a Fish Processing Boat in the Baltic Sea. Her stories were fascinating and so interesting. She shared a lot of emotion while speaking of those days past.
It was then that Sandra’s big, beautiful heart did show as we were responding in such a positive way to her. I truly believe that intellectually Sandra knows the truth, but just cannot believe that her husband might be terminal. She is dramatically displaying her strong love for him. Beautiful!
“HE IS NOT DYING!"
"Are you Hospice?
Why are you here?
He is not dying!
I won't listen to you, but he can!"
We walked into their home.
Two puppies ran to our feet.
Our full attention on her dogs
softened her tone a wee bit.
His frailty shows he's been ill for years.
Spending his days sitting in his room.
Slowly walking with a cane.
Content to just be.
We validated her fears.
We normalized her emotions.
Giving her permission to be angry.
Allowing her to be where she needed to be.
We gained her trust.
She began to feel safe with us.
She started to share life stories.
Her loving heart began to glow.
Intellectually she knows his prognosis is poor.
We are a strong reminder of that reality.
But emotionally she is fighting so hard
as she needs to truly believe,
"He is not dying!"
As the nurse and I were approaching Allen and Sandra’s front porch, Sandra came out onto the porch and snapped at us, “Are you Hospice?” She was angry that we were there and did not want to sit down with her husband to hear about our hospice program. This visit was scheduled as an informational visit only. I love doing informational visits about hospice as it educates folks about the beautiful support that comes with our program. So many mistakenly feel that when hospice shows up, their loved one dies quickly.
As we all sat down in their living room, Sandra spoke sharply about Allen’s recent hospitalization. Sandra appeared to be so unhappy and angry. I started out by normalizing her anger while validating her fears. Over the course of our one hour visit, Sandra started to mellow as she trusted us to understand her emotions in a non-judgmental manner.
Before long she was sharing stories of her years working on a Fish Processing Boat in the Baltic Sea. Her stories were fascinating and so interesting. She shared a lot of emotion while speaking of those days past.
It was then that Sandra’s big, beautiful heart did show as we were responding in such a positive way to her. I truly believe that intellectually Sandra knows the truth, but just cannot believe that her husband might be terminal. She is dramatically displaying her strong love for him. Beautiful!
“HE IS NOT DYING!"
"Are you Hospice?
Why are you here?
He is not dying!
I won't listen to you, but he can!"
We walked into their home.
Two puppies ran to our feet.
Our full attention on her dogs
softened her tone a wee bit.
His frailty shows he's been ill for years.
Spending his days sitting in his room.
Slowly walking with a cane.
Content to just be.
We validated her fears.
We normalized her emotions.
Giving her permission to be angry.
Allowing her to be where she needed to be.
We gained her trust.
She began to feel safe with us.
She started to share life stories.
Her loving heart began to glow.
Intellectually she knows his prognosis is poor.
We are a strong reminder of that reality.
But emotionally she is fighting so hard
as she needs to truly believe,
"He is not dying!"
Sunday, May 20, 2018
A THOUSAND FOLD
The hospice nurse and I admitted, "Christine", to our hospice program today. Christine was diagnosed with cancer a year ago. She underwent chemotherapy, but the side affects were disabling. She chose to stop all treatment as wanted quality of life, not quantity.
Christine lives with her son, "Matthew", who is her primary caregiver. She has a daughter living nearby who is also an active part in her mother's life. This is a very loving and caring family.
Christine has a strong Christian faith, but has some appropriate fears about dying. She knows she is going to a better place, but is not yet ready to go. We spoke about end-of-life support and the importance of having an Advanced Directive for Health Care and a POLST, (Physician's Order for Life Sustaining Treatment). I gently spoke of the importance of both of these legal documents. Christine allowed me to help her with the POLST. She stated she did not want any extraordinary treatment. Christine wasn't yet ready to talk about her Advanced Directive or funeral plans. I know with our hospice staff slowly guiding her and giving her the needed support, she likely will complete both tasks, when she is ready to do so.
When I returned to the office after this admission, I was asked to deliver some supplies to another patient, "Carol", whom I initially met three days ago.. When I walked into the home, everything flowed so beautifully. I strongly felt I was meant to be there. Carol's daughter felt it too as when she walked me to the front door as I was leaving she stated, "You were meant to be here today." I so strongly felt it too. Hospice work is so spiritual to me. It is what guides me and gives me such warmth.
Hospice work is my life's passion. It is the spiritual guidance from above that fills my heart a thousand fold.
A THOUSAND FOLD
We sat down in her bedroom.
We told her about hospice support.
"There is no right or wrong way to do things.
We want to help you; your way."
She just learned her cancer is growing.
No further treatment to be had.
She has fears, "God may heal me."
But then; "Heaven is there for us all."
I validated her fears; I normalized her emotions.
Wanting to give her the much needed support.
She totally surprised me when she said;
"You are so wise. This is your gift.
Keep doing what you are doing."
I first met her three days ago.
Her cancer has spread to her brain.
She understands clearly, but it's garbled at times.
She tries so hard to figure things out.
She couldn't admit any weakness.
She felt she had to be strong.
"I am fine. I can handle this.
Everything is going to be okay."
I spoke about grief's roller coaster ride.
Emotions are up and then down; right and then left.
I said it is wonderful how you are feeling,
but it is not a weakness if emotions crash down.
Her daughter said I was meant to be there today.
I spiritually felt the same way.
Guided by sacred beings.
Blessings received;
A Thousand Fold.
Christine lives with her son, "Matthew", who is her primary caregiver. She has a daughter living nearby who is also an active part in her mother's life. This is a very loving and caring family.
Christine has a strong Christian faith, but has some appropriate fears about dying. She knows she is going to a better place, but is not yet ready to go. We spoke about end-of-life support and the importance of having an Advanced Directive for Health Care and a POLST, (Physician's Order for Life Sustaining Treatment). I gently spoke of the importance of both of these legal documents. Christine allowed me to help her with the POLST. She stated she did not want any extraordinary treatment. Christine wasn't yet ready to talk about her Advanced Directive or funeral plans. I know with our hospice staff slowly guiding her and giving her the needed support, she likely will complete both tasks, when she is ready to do so.
When I returned to the office after this admission, I was asked to deliver some supplies to another patient, "Carol", whom I initially met three days ago.. When I walked into the home, everything flowed so beautifully. I strongly felt I was meant to be there. Carol's daughter felt it too as when she walked me to the front door as I was leaving she stated, "You were meant to be here today." I so strongly felt it too. Hospice work is so spiritual to me. It is what guides me and gives me such warmth.
Hospice work is my life's passion. It is the spiritual guidance from above that fills my heart a thousand fold.
A THOUSAND FOLD
We sat down in her bedroom.
We told her about hospice support.
"There is no right or wrong way to do things.
We want to help you; your way."
She just learned her cancer is growing.
No further treatment to be had.
She has fears, "God may heal me."
But then; "Heaven is there for us all."
I validated her fears; I normalized her emotions.
Wanting to give her the much needed support.
She totally surprised me when she said;
"You are so wise. This is your gift.
Keep doing what you are doing."
I first met her three days ago.
Her cancer has spread to her brain.
She understands clearly, but it's garbled at times.
She tries so hard to figure things out.
She couldn't admit any weakness.
She felt she had to be strong.
"I am fine. I can handle this.
Everything is going to be okay."
I spoke about grief's roller coaster ride.
Emotions are up and then down; right and then left.
I said it is wonderful how you are feeling,
but it is not a weakness if emotions crash down.
Her daughter said I was meant to be there today.
I spiritually felt the same way.
Guided by sacred beings.
Blessings received;
A Thousand Fold.
Saturday, May 5, 2018
ROUTINE
Yesterday, the hospice nurse and I admitted, “Betty”, to our hospice program. We met Betty and her two daughters, “Jeannine” and “Beverly” in the dining room of Betty’s home. Betty had been living alone until the past several months when her daughters moved in with her to share caring for her.
Jeannine shared that her mother is confused most of the time. Betty wasn’t quite sure why we were there. Betty’s husband died eight years ago. Sadly, in addition, her son passed away five years ago. Unfortunately, Betty became tearful when speaking about her husband and son. Her grief was strong, as due to her confusion, she thought both died only a few months ago.
The daughters shared that mom had moments of anger about her grief. Additionally, she also had strong frustrations over her limitations. During our visit, Betty had some moments of clarity. During one of those moments, she apologized to her daughters for being angry. Betty shared how she felt it was wrong.
Similarly, we admitted, “Joe”, a few days prior. Joe was only in his fifties and had liver cancer. Due to retention of fluids, it so limited him in his mobility to maneuver around his home. Joe was determined to remain as independent as able, and did move around, although slowly.
Joe, too had tremendous challenges, but his primary focus was on his wife and how she would be after he was gone. We told him about hospice’s bereavement follow up for thirteen months afterwards. Joe felt comfort in knowing that.
Both of these cases demonstrated what we, as hospice workers, see so frequently. Respect and admiration flows from our hearts when witnessing such devotion. It is so humbling and such an honor to observe such love.
ROUTINE
Meeting so many people,
one would think we'd see routine.
Normal emotions, common reactions;
typical behaviors while coping.
I am continually awestruck
on the love we see around.
Looking out for their loved ones,
even though their struggle is intense.
He was diagnosed several years ago,
but his decline has been swift.
He struggles to walk around,
but is determined to keep moving.
His primary focus is about his wife.
He worries about her after he is gone.
He has no fears or concerns about himself.
It is naturally all about her.
I would understand if he were angry.
I would also understand if he were afraid,
but my emotions are of admiration and respect.
He is demonstrating pure, unconditional love.
His actions are what we typically experience.
While he is concerned and caring for her,
she is just as much worried about him.
The more one gives, the more one receives.
I am so honored to witness such love.
It is what keeps me coming back every day.
Maybe it is routine,
after all.
Jeannine shared that her mother is confused most of the time. Betty wasn’t quite sure why we were there. Betty’s husband died eight years ago. Sadly, in addition, her son passed away five years ago. Unfortunately, Betty became tearful when speaking about her husband and son. Her grief was strong, as due to her confusion, she thought both died only a few months ago.
The daughters shared that mom had moments of anger about her grief. Additionally, she also had strong frustrations over her limitations. During our visit, Betty had some moments of clarity. During one of those moments, she apologized to her daughters for being angry. Betty shared how she felt it was wrong.
Similarly, we admitted, “Joe”, a few days prior. Joe was only in his fifties and had liver cancer. Due to retention of fluids, it so limited him in his mobility to maneuver around his home. Joe was determined to remain as independent as able, and did move around, although slowly.
Joe, too had tremendous challenges, but his primary focus was on his wife and how she would be after he was gone. We told him about hospice’s bereavement follow up for thirteen months afterwards. Joe felt comfort in knowing that.
Both of these cases demonstrated what we, as hospice workers, see so frequently. Respect and admiration flows from our hearts when witnessing such devotion. It is so humbling and such an honor to observe such love.
ROUTINE
Meeting so many people,
one would think we'd see routine.
Normal emotions, common reactions;
typical behaviors while coping.
I am continually awestruck
on the love we see around.
Looking out for their loved ones,
even though their struggle is intense.
He was diagnosed several years ago,
but his decline has been swift.
He struggles to walk around,
but is determined to keep moving.
His primary focus is about his wife.
He worries about her after he is gone.
He has no fears or concerns about himself.
It is naturally all about her.
I would understand if he were angry.
I would also understand if he were afraid,
but my emotions are of admiration and respect.
He is demonstrating pure, unconditional love.
His actions are what we typically experience.
While he is concerned and caring for her,
she is just as much worried about him.
The more one gives, the more one receives.
I am so honored to witness such love.
It is what keeps me coming back every day.
Maybe it is routine,
after all.
Sunday, April 29, 2018
THEIR FINAL GOODBYE
"Elizabeth", ninety-one, suffered from Alzheimer's Disease for years. She was widowed and resided in an Assisted Living Complex. Elizabeth needed help with all of her activities of daily living.
I met Elizabeth several months ago when we admitted her to our hospice program. The facility had the policy of leaving the resident's room doors open. A black cat lived in the facility and spent many hours in Elizabeth's room. Throughout the Admission Visit, the cat slept on Elizabeth's lap. Elizabeth found pure joy having that cat nearby.
Elizabeth was so adorable as she would try to keep up with the conversation around her. She struggled due to her forgetfulness; but even then, she had an easy smile.
Elizabeth died peacefully three days ago. I called Elizabeth's daughter, "Cynthia" to offer condolences. The words Cynthia used to describe her mother's final moments were beautiful. That special moment spoke loudly about how wonderful a person Elizabeth was and how well she raised her three children. It was a beautiful reflection upon all of them.
THEIR FINAL GOODBYE
She was a good mom.
She raised the three of them so well
That's why they were there by her side
to say their final goodbye.
She had been ill for quite a while,
although her decline had been slow.
Confusion and forgetfulness came first;
little by little slowing her down.
She was always in a good mood.
Not much made her sad.
No matter how dependent she became,
she always had a quick smile for all.
Her daughter was holding her hand.
All three were "clustered around".
"It was a real touching moment
when she took her final breath."
They found peace; they found comfort.
"It was the best experience you could have.
A real touching moment.
All the love was there".
Her disease process took years.
A very slow decline.
In the end, "It happened pretty quickly".
Finding beauty in the sadness of
Their Final Goodbye.
I met Elizabeth several months ago when we admitted her to our hospice program. The facility had the policy of leaving the resident's room doors open. A black cat lived in the facility and spent many hours in Elizabeth's room. Throughout the Admission Visit, the cat slept on Elizabeth's lap. Elizabeth found pure joy having that cat nearby.
Elizabeth was so adorable as she would try to keep up with the conversation around her. She struggled due to her forgetfulness; but even then, she had an easy smile.
Elizabeth died peacefully three days ago. I called Elizabeth's daughter, "Cynthia" to offer condolences. The words Cynthia used to describe her mother's final moments were beautiful. That special moment spoke loudly about how wonderful a person Elizabeth was and how well she raised her three children. It was a beautiful reflection upon all of them.
THEIR FINAL GOODBYE
She was a good mom.
She raised the three of them so well
That's why they were there by her side
to say their final goodbye.
She had been ill for quite a while,
although her decline had been slow.
Confusion and forgetfulness came first;
little by little slowing her down.
She was always in a good mood.
Not much made her sad.
No matter how dependent she became,
she always had a quick smile for all.
Her daughter was holding her hand.
All three were "clustered around".
"It was a real touching moment
when she took her final breath."
They found peace; they found comfort.
"It was the best experience you could have.
A real touching moment.
All the love was there".
Her disease process took years.
A very slow decline.
In the end, "It happened pretty quickly".
Finding beauty in the sadness of
Their Final Goodbye.
Sunday, April 22, 2018
ALWAYS
The hospice nurse and I admitted "Theresa", ninety-one, to our hospice program three days ago. Theresa lives in an Assisted Living Environment as she needs help with all of her daily needs. Theresa was eating lunch in the dining room when we arrived. We were meeting with Theresa's two children; her daughter, "Terri", and son, "Paul", who were sitting with mom. Theresa produced this beautiful smile when we walked up. She was so welcoming to the two of us, although did not understand who we were.
After a few moments, we all excused ourselves and went into a meeting room nearby to discuss hospice supports and criteria. Terri and Paul had such diverse personalities. As high energy and anxious Terri was, Paul was so calm and relaxed. Terri visits mom daily and stated that she has given up a lot of her life to be there for her mother. Paul lives out of state and visits for several weeks every two months or so.
Both of the children wanted what was best for mom, but totally disagreed on how to achieve that goal. We sat with them for over two hours explaining hospice support. Terri kept interrupting her brother and he, attempting to stay calm, would let her talk. By the end of our visit, the two of them were quarreling with each other. Paul said that the two of them never got along. But the one wonderful thing was, they both did agree on what was best for their mom.
Paul shared that his mother asked him if he would continue to visit after she is gone. He was surprised by her question, but answered it by what he thought she would want to hear. I shared with the both of them that their mom will let go when her work is done. She wants to make sure her two children will be okay.
Today, three days later, Paul called to share how impressed he was by what I told him about "Mom will always be a mom." It gave him some peace.
ALWAYS
She's been demented for years,
although recently in a decline.
She remembers years past,
but can't recall eating lunch.
Both her children are devoted to her.
They want to do what's best.
She lives nearby and sees mom daily.
He routinely visits from out of state.
He and his sister travel two different paths.
She is a worrier, anxious and concerned.
He, on the other hand, is calm, relaxed.
He's taught meditation for years.
Mom has some awareness of her decline.
She's talked about her dying, asking him,
"Will you still come visit
after I am gone?"
He was surprised by her question.
He didn't know what to say,
but told her what she wanted to hear,
"Yes, of course, I will still come out."
I said that even though she is confused.
Even though she doesn't understand.
In the end, she'll continue to perpetually
worry about the two of you.
As after all, she will always,
and forevermore continue
to be your mom.
After a few moments, we all excused ourselves and went into a meeting room nearby to discuss hospice supports and criteria. Terri and Paul had such diverse personalities. As high energy and anxious Terri was, Paul was so calm and relaxed. Terri visits mom daily and stated that she has given up a lot of her life to be there for her mother. Paul lives out of state and visits for several weeks every two months or so.
Both of the children wanted what was best for mom, but totally disagreed on how to achieve that goal. We sat with them for over two hours explaining hospice support. Terri kept interrupting her brother and he, attempting to stay calm, would let her talk. By the end of our visit, the two of them were quarreling with each other. Paul said that the two of them never got along. But the one wonderful thing was, they both did agree on what was best for their mom.
Paul shared that his mother asked him if he would continue to visit after she is gone. He was surprised by her question, but answered it by what he thought she would want to hear. I shared with the both of them that their mom will let go when her work is done. She wants to make sure her two children will be okay.
Today, three days later, Paul called to share how impressed he was by what I told him about "Mom will always be a mom." It gave him some peace.
ALWAYS
She's been demented for years,
although recently in a decline.
She remembers years past,
but can't recall eating lunch.
Both her children are devoted to her.
They want to do what's best.
She lives nearby and sees mom daily.
He routinely visits from out of state.
He and his sister travel two different paths.
She is a worrier, anxious and concerned.
He, on the other hand, is calm, relaxed.
He's taught meditation for years.
Mom has some awareness of her decline.
She's talked about her dying, asking him,
"Will you still come visit
after I am gone?"
He was surprised by her question.
He didn't know what to say,
but told her what she wanted to hear,
"Yes, of course, I will still come out."
I said that even though she is confused.
Even though she doesn't understand.
In the end, she'll continue to perpetually
worry about the two of you.
As after all, she will always,
and forevermore continue
to be your mom.
Saturday, April 14, 2018
I AM SO SAD
A co-worker was diagnosed with cancer two months ago. After weeks of tests, she will be having chemotherapy this week. Yesterday I drove her to the clinic to have a port placed for those treatments. Driving to pick her up, I felt so thankful that she knew I would be there for her. It was humbling, but also a wonderful feeling. Along with those feelings, I also feel very sad for what she has to go through these next months.
She and my friendship is so based on sarcasm and humor. The two of us laugh a lot when we are together. I am seeing a new side of her. She is sharing her heart and her soul with lots of tears. It has connected us on a deeper level. We work for an amazing agency as every single one of us under that roof are there for each other. It is our family for sure. She is adamantly embracing that love and support.
Today, I am feeling so sad about it all. Thoughts of my friend, Kate, who died twenty years ago of cancer, are flooding emotionally to me like it was yesterday. I am surprised as I have not felt that grief so strongly for many years.
I was part of a group of friends/caregivers for Kate. I did drive Kate to treatment a lot. I think driving my co-worker to treatment triggered the same emotions. This will be another learning chapter in my co-worker's and my life. Embrace the love and the knowledge. I feel so many emotions; many wonderful, but overall, I feel such sadness. I am so appreciative, though, that my friend is traveling her journey surrounded by love. We all wish her well.
I AM SO SAD
My thoughts were of appreciation.
So thankful I could help her.
Honored that she had asked,
but still saddened by it all.
I drove her to the clinic.
I waited nearby while thoughts
of my friend Kate's death
whispered softly by my side.
I am surprised by my emotions.
It has been over twenty years,
but the grief has rapidly returned.
Reruns of time past.
I know her journey will be challenging,
wherever her road may go.
It also will be nourishment for all of us
to flourish our souls.
For that I am grateful,
I am truly blessed.
But then again,
I am so sad.
She and my friendship is so based on sarcasm and humor. The two of us laugh a lot when we are together. I am seeing a new side of her. She is sharing her heart and her soul with lots of tears. It has connected us on a deeper level. We work for an amazing agency as every single one of us under that roof are there for each other. It is our family for sure. She is adamantly embracing that love and support.
Today, I am feeling so sad about it all. Thoughts of my friend, Kate, who died twenty years ago of cancer, are flooding emotionally to me like it was yesterday. I am surprised as I have not felt that grief so strongly for many years.
I was part of a group of friends/caregivers for Kate. I did drive Kate to treatment a lot. I think driving my co-worker to treatment triggered the same emotions. This will be another learning chapter in my co-worker's and my life. Embrace the love and the knowledge. I feel so many emotions; many wonderful, but overall, I feel such sadness. I am so appreciative, though, that my friend is traveling her journey surrounded by love. We all wish her well.
I AM SO SAD
My thoughts were of appreciation.
So thankful I could help her.
Honored that she had asked,
but still saddened by it all.
I drove her to the clinic.
I waited nearby while thoughts
of my friend Kate's death
whispered softly by my side.
I am surprised by my emotions.
It has been over twenty years,
but the grief has rapidly returned.
Reruns of time past.
I know her journey will be challenging,
wherever her road may go.
It also will be nourishment for all of us
to flourish our souls.
For that I am grateful,
I am truly blessed.
But then again,
I am so sad.
Saturday, April 7, 2018
TWENTY MINUTES
We opened an elderly patient to hospice yesterday. Today, our hospice nurse was with him all day trying to control his pain. The patient was moaning and crying out with any movement. I was asked to go over to give the nurse and the patient's daughter some support.
When I arrived, the nurse told me that they had called the paramedics. She strongly felt that the patient needed to go to the ER where, hopefully, his pain would be better controlled. The patient's daughter, "Emily", was her father's agent on his Advanced Directive. The patient was confused which automatically made Emily his spokesperson.
Once the paramedics arrived, they started to ask Emily so many questions. Emily knew her father's wishes of comfort care and no extraordinary measures. Emily turned to me as was upset because she thought they implied that she was wrong. I encouraged her to continue to be the strong advocate for her father. He chose her because he trusted her to express and follow his wishes.
Emily turned and hugged me so tightly thanking me for my words of encouragement. I was so amazed and honored that I was able to help and support her in only a few moments. It is humbling to have been able to find the right words for her and to be able to be with her at just the right moment. Spirituality at its best in only twenty minutes.
TWENTY MINUTES
The nurse was with him all day.
His pain was out of control.
She and the doctors struggled
with finding what medication to use.
Arriving only a few moments before the paramedics,
I went over to give support to his daughter.
Immediately they started to ask her questions.
Their reactions upset her greatly.
She felt they thought she was wrong.
I shared, "Medical staff often want curative steps.
Many do not understand hospice philosophy,
patient's wishes or comfort care."
I spoke about being her father's advocate.
"He trusts you to follow his wishes.
You are rightly handling things.
Keep doing what you are doing,"
She hugged me so long and so tight.
Thanking me for my validation and support.
It was only a twenty minute visit,
solid proof that confirmation and support
doesn't have to take very long.
When I arrived, the nurse told me that they had called the paramedics. She strongly felt that the patient needed to go to the ER where, hopefully, his pain would be better controlled. The patient's daughter, "Emily", was her father's agent on his Advanced Directive. The patient was confused which automatically made Emily his spokesperson.
Once the paramedics arrived, they started to ask Emily so many questions. Emily knew her father's wishes of comfort care and no extraordinary measures. Emily turned to me as was upset because she thought they implied that she was wrong. I encouraged her to continue to be the strong advocate for her father. He chose her because he trusted her to express and follow his wishes.
Emily turned and hugged me so tightly thanking me for my words of encouragement. I was so amazed and honored that I was able to help and support her in only a few moments. It is humbling to have been able to find the right words for her and to be able to be with her at just the right moment. Spirituality at its best in only twenty minutes.
TWENTY MINUTES
The nurse was with him all day.
His pain was out of control.
She and the doctors struggled
with finding what medication to use.
Arriving only a few moments before the paramedics,
I went over to give support to his daughter.
Immediately they started to ask her questions.
Their reactions upset her greatly.
She felt they thought she was wrong.
I shared, "Medical staff often want curative steps.
Many do not understand hospice philosophy,
patient's wishes or comfort care."
I spoke about being her father's advocate.
"He trusts you to follow his wishes.
You are rightly handling things.
Keep doing what you are doing,"
She hugged me so long and so tight.
Thanking me for my validation and support.
It was only a twenty minute visit,
solid proof that confirmation and support
doesn't have to take very long.
Saturday, March 31, 2018
HER WAY
Peggie, my friend of eleven years, died peacefully this morning. She was diagnosed ten years ago of cervical cancer. She fought hard and long throughout each step of the way. Peggie never complained. She always had such a positive attitude. She would always ask about how others were doing. The focus was never on how hard things were for her.
Peggie's husband, Ellis, was totally devoted to her. It was a beautiful relationship, full of love and playful teasing. Peggie was hospitalized two weeks ago. My husband and I went over to visit her in the hospital. I was shocked when I stepped into her room and saw her. She was so weak and appeared to be in such pain. Her voice was so soft and low, I had trouble hearing what she was saying. It just broke my heart.
Seeing Peggie in so much distress, left my heart so heavy. The vision of her suffering implanted so solidly in my thoughts. I wanted to fix it and make her pain go away. Throughout her hospitalization, and subsequent transfer to a nursing home three days ago, my husband and I kept in close contact with Ellis, wanting to support him as well.
My husband and I saw Peggie last night at the nursing home. She was in a deep sleep and looked so relaxed, pain free and beautiful. The moment I saw her so restful, I felt instant peace myself. I strongly felt she was ready to let go. Her oncologist told me a week ago that Peggie was at peace about it all. After hearing from Ellis that Peggie died this morning, it did leave me sad, but also happy for her as she was in a better place now and flying high.
Peggie and Ellis reside in a mobile home park near the hospice where I work. One of our hospice nurses admitted a patient today. She came back to the office and asked if anyone had time to deliver some supplies to the family. I volunteered and noticed that they lived in the same mobile home park of Peggie and Ellis. I drove by Ellis's place, but his car was not in the parking unit telling me that he wasn't home, or I would have made a visit.
Thirty minutes later, I was back in the office and helping a supervisor with a project. She asked me to grab three patient charts. One of the charts was, again, in Peggie and Ellis's mobile home park.
I truly believe Peggie was making sure that I knew how important it will be for my husband and I to make sure Ellis is okay. Again she is caring about others. It wouldn't surprise me that Peggie made sure I saw her at peace in the nursing home the day before she died. Her gift to me was also peace. That is who Peggie was. She, continuing to do things her way forevermore.
HER WAY
She was diagnosed ten years ago.
She fought her disease long and hard.
Chemo; illness; then more chemo.
She was a fighter; she never gave up.
Her end came swiftly.
It caught us all off guard.
Seeing her so weak; suffering in pain.
Heaviness; sadness engulfing my heart.
Transferred to a nursing home.
Comfort care treatment was all that was left.
Seeing her so peaceful; so beautiful.
Calmness and relief now embracing my soul.
She let go early this morning.
I know it was her time to go.
She spoke to me two times this afternoon.
Guiding me to keep supporting him.
She was tough; she was so strong.
Always, while diligently caring for others.
Even after she is gone;
she still is doing things;
Her Way.
Peggie's husband, Ellis, was totally devoted to her. It was a beautiful relationship, full of love and playful teasing. Peggie was hospitalized two weeks ago. My husband and I went over to visit her in the hospital. I was shocked when I stepped into her room and saw her. She was so weak and appeared to be in such pain. Her voice was so soft and low, I had trouble hearing what she was saying. It just broke my heart.
Seeing Peggie in so much distress, left my heart so heavy. The vision of her suffering implanted so solidly in my thoughts. I wanted to fix it and make her pain go away. Throughout her hospitalization, and subsequent transfer to a nursing home three days ago, my husband and I kept in close contact with Ellis, wanting to support him as well.
My husband and I saw Peggie last night at the nursing home. She was in a deep sleep and looked so relaxed, pain free and beautiful. The moment I saw her so restful, I felt instant peace myself. I strongly felt she was ready to let go. Her oncologist told me a week ago that Peggie was at peace about it all. After hearing from Ellis that Peggie died this morning, it did leave me sad, but also happy for her as she was in a better place now and flying high.
Peggie and Ellis reside in a mobile home park near the hospice where I work. One of our hospice nurses admitted a patient today. She came back to the office and asked if anyone had time to deliver some supplies to the family. I volunteered and noticed that they lived in the same mobile home park of Peggie and Ellis. I drove by Ellis's place, but his car was not in the parking unit telling me that he wasn't home, or I would have made a visit.
Thirty minutes later, I was back in the office and helping a supervisor with a project. She asked me to grab three patient charts. One of the charts was, again, in Peggie and Ellis's mobile home park.
I truly believe Peggie was making sure that I knew how important it will be for my husband and I to make sure Ellis is okay. Again she is caring about others. It wouldn't surprise me that Peggie made sure I saw her at peace in the nursing home the day before she died. Her gift to me was also peace. That is who Peggie was. She, continuing to do things her way forevermore.
HER WAY
She was diagnosed ten years ago.
She fought her disease long and hard.
Chemo; illness; then more chemo.
She was a fighter; she never gave up.
Her end came swiftly.
It caught us all off guard.
Seeing her so weak; suffering in pain.
Heaviness; sadness engulfing my heart.
Transferred to a nursing home.
Comfort care treatment was all that was left.
Seeing her so peaceful; so beautiful.
Calmness and relief now embracing my soul.
She let go early this morning.
I know it was her time to go.
She spoke to me two times this afternoon.
Guiding me to keep supporting him.
She was tough; she was so strong.
Always, while diligently caring for others.
Even after she is gone;
she still is doing things;
Her Way.
Saturday, March 17, 2018
RIGHT NOW
"Betty", eighty years old, suffered from cardiac disease. She was only diagnosed two months ago. She has had several Emergency Room visits due to pain and shortness of breath. Betty had always known what she wanted in life. She was very involved in her community helping others doing charity work.
Betty was from such a small, but very loving family. Betty told her family yesterday that she was ready to go "Right now". Her children shared many stories about the strength of their mother. How she always knew what she wanted and how easily she achieved those goals.
Patients typically are aware of their status and poor prognosis. Patients frequently will get to the point of letting go. Betty's decline was so rapid. Her family was processing their emotions during our two hour visit. They all were torn as did not want her to die, but did want her to have peace.
Betty knew more than anyone that her time was near when yesterday she said she was ready to go. She gave her family one day to come to terms with the reality of her no longer being physically around. The family strongly believed that Betty will forever be around in their hearts.
RIGHT NOW
We rushed out to her home
for an urgent admission.
She was declining oh so fast.
No food nor water.
It won't be long.
She was talking this morning.
Now in a deep sleep.
Yesterday, she said "I am done.
I am ready to go right now".
Family rallying, although not quite ready.
They don't want her to suffer.
They wish her only peace, but,
"This is happening way too fast!"
She was actively dying while we were there.
We prepared the family as best we could.
They asked direct questions, wanting the truth.
"It could be hours to only a few days."
She had been such a strong woman.
Admired by all; her family; her community.
Five minutes after I left, she got her wish.
She was allowed to let go.
Right then; right now.
Betty was from such a small, but very loving family. Betty told her family yesterday that she was ready to go "Right now". Her children shared many stories about the strength of their mother. How she always knew what she wanted and how easily she achieved those goals.
Patients typically are aware of their status and poor prognosis. Patients frequently will get to the point of letting go. Betty's decline was so rapid. Her family was processing their emotions during our two hour visit. They all were torn as did not want her to die, but did want her to have peace.
Betty knew more than anyone that her time was near when yesterday she said she was ready to go. She gave her family one day to come to terms with the reality of her no longer being physically around. The family strongly believed that Betty will forever be around in their hearts.
RIGHT NOW
We rushed out to her home
for an urgent admission.
She was declining oh so fast.
No food nor water.
It won't be long.
She was talking this morning.
Now in a deep sleep.
Yesterday, she said "I am done.
I am ready to go right now".
Family rallying, although not quite ready.
They don't want her to suffer.
They wish her only peace, but,
"This is happening way too fast!"
She was actively dying while we were there.
We prepared the family as best we could.
They asked direct questions, wanting the truth.
"It could be hours to only a few days."
She had been such a strong woman.
Admired by all; her family; her community.
Five minutes after I left, she got her wish.
She was allowed to let go.
Right then; right now.
Sunday, March 11, 2018
HIS LEGACY
I met "Marco" and his family today. Marco had been gifted with good health his entire life. Being ninety-eight years old, he had been living independently and alone until three weeks ago. It was then that the symptoms of his cancer started to flare up leaving him weak with no appetite. It looks as if Marco may have just a few days to live.
Marco has been widowed for ten years. He has six children who all, fortunately, live nearby. The moment I walked into the home, I felt their tremendous love. Multiple family members were present. All wanting to share their father's/grandfather's stories.
By his words and loving behavior, Marco gave his family unconditional love. It was so amazing. Marco's grandson, " James", who was in his early forties, started telling me all about his grandfather. While sharing these beautiful stories, he started to tear up. The tears started flowing so heavily that he turned and fell into my arms and just sobbed. I was so impressed that he was able to express his sadness. I also felt so honored that he felt safe with me to do so.
The family will continue to teach and share love with each other as Marco taught them all so well. They are all such a prime example of giving and receiving the amazing gift of pure, unconditional love.
HIS LEGACY
He's been the patriarch of the family.
Five generations in all.
Managing all of his needs alone
for close to ninety-nine years.
All of that has recently changed.
His disease has taken a toll.
Bedridden, no longer eating.
Not much time left at all.
His family is gathering around.
Sharing his stories so we will know
how he showered them with love.
Teaching them all about the goodness in life.
Many appropriate tears did flow
while telling us those tales.
They all embraced each other with love.
He impeccably taught them well.
His legacy will continue long after he is gone.
This family has learned, by his words and behavior,
to continue to teach the next generation
all about genuine,
unconditional,
Pure Love.
Marco has been widowed for ten years. He has six children who all, fortunately, live nearby. The moment I walked into the home, I felt their tremendous love. Multiple family members were present. All wanting to share their father's/grandfather's stories.
By his words and loving behavior, Marco gave his family unconditional love. It was so amazing. Marco's grandson, " James", who was in his early forties, started telling me all about his grandfather. While sharing these beautiful stories, he started to tear up. The tears started flowing so heavily that he turned and fell into my arms and just sobbed. I was so impressed that he was able to express his sadness. I also felt so honored that he felt safe with me to do so.
The family will continue to teach and share love with each other as Marco taught them all so well. They are all such a prime example of giving and receiving the amazing gift of pure, unconditional love.
HIS LEGACY
He's been the patriarch of the family.
Five generations in all.
Managing all of his needs alone
for close to ninety-nine years.
All of that has recently changed.
His disease has taken a toll.
Bedridden, no longer eating.
Not much time left at all.
His family is gathering around.
Sharing his stories so we will know
how he showered them with love.
Teaching them all about the goodness in life.
Many appropriate tears did flow
while telling us those tales.
They all embraced each other with love.
He impeccably taught them well.
His legacy will continue long after he is gone.
This family has learned, by his words and behavior,
to continue to teach the next generation
all about genuine,
unconditional,
Pure Love.
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