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? 

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. 

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. 

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.