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 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.            

 

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.

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.

　

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.