Jack, my cousin, was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's Disease or ALS two and a half months ago. He is living in an Assisted Living Facility in order to get the twenty-four hour care he so needs.
My husband and I visited Jack two days ago after not seeing him for a few weeks. He went through a week or two where he requested no visits. It was so hard not to be able to visit him. Last week, he again was ready for visitors. I was stressed on the ninety minute drive there as I did not know how he would be. He was declining daily and becoming weaker all of the time. I wanted to say the right things, but did not know what that would be.
The moment I walked into his room and saw him, relief suddenly surrounded me. He is still Jack one hundred percent and will always be. He was lying in his recliner. I pulled a chair over next to him and held his hand.
He spoke about his dying through tears. We both spoke about life, love and death. Each of us communicated with our hearts. We were so connected which did not surprise me. The two of us have been close our entire lives. After we left, I felt so blessed knowing how much we love each other; and were able to express it to each other during these forty-five special minutes.
I did not know that it would be our last time together. But now looking back, the conversation expressed love, life, death and goodbyes in an amazing way.
Jack died last night at 11pm. I was surprised, but also feel relief as he is no longer suffering. I shared with him how his legacy to me was how the two of us would frequently laugh so hard together.
God bless you dear Jack. You were so much more than my cousin. You were my brother, my best friend. I know we will be together again. Peace.
AND SO DO I
I was so stressed on the way there.
What would I see; how would he be?
Relief embraced me as I walked in
as he was, as always, so beautifully him.
I sat down next to him holding his hand.
We held our hands tight the entire time.
He needed to talk; to share his truth;
and so did I.
He is declining daily.
Weakness is the one in charge.
He can no longer walk or even hold a glass.
Dependency fills his days.
He spoke about the End-of-Life Act.
That is an option he may have.
"If it is that or this disease,
I am still dying. Nothing will change."
Tears flowed as we spoke about love
and the importance of those around.
He is not yet ready to leave this earth;
and neither am I.
His journey has been rough.
Likely there is more to come.
He wants to find his peace; his happiness.
For him; so do I.
Monday, April 29, 2019
Saturday, April 27, 2019
HIS NEEDS
"Don", eighty-three, suffered a major stroke one week ago. He is now wheelchair bound and needing assistance with all of his activities of daily living. Fortunately, he lives in an Assisted Living Facility where there is full time care. Don is widowed and has one son, "Vince", who lives locally. Vince visits his father frequently and is very supportive and involved.
While we were completing the hospice paperwork, Vince shared his father's life story. It was fascinating. When I told Vince how courageous it was for his father to emigrate to America, Vince stated, "If not, he would have been killed."
It always astounds me of how frequently I hear these amazing stories. We all have stories, but because it is us just living our life, we often don't see them as amazing. I so love hearing them. It is such a reminder of how so many of us living on the same planet have legendary lives.
HIS NEEDS
He was born and raised in Vietnam.
His life was full of achievement.
He had a lovely family; a beautiful home.
All that he would ever need.
He was a Senator; he was an Ambassador.
He had input in how things should be.
He was well known and respected
for his persuasive influence in doing the right thing.
Forty-five years ago, he had to suddenly leave.
The Communists were invading; running amok.
He lost his home and all of his possessions.
There was nothing left to save.
His life was in danger; he had to move fast
to protect himself and all of his family.
He drove his Toyota into the river; tossing his keys.
He didn’t want them to get everything.
He made it to America.
He began a new life.
His family safely again by his side.
It was then he fully realized that
he still had
all that he would ever need.
While we were completing the hospice paperwork, Vince shared his father's life story. It was fascinating. When I told Vince how courageous it was for his father to emigrate to America, Vince stated, "If not, he would have been killed."
It always astounds me of how frequently I hear these amazing stories. We all have stories, but because it is us just living our life, we often don't see them as amazing. I so love hearing them. It is such a reminder of how so many of us living on the same planet have legendary lives.
HIS NEEDS
He was born and raised in Vietnam.
His life was full of achievement.
He had a lovely family; a beautiful home.
All that he would ever need.
He was a Senator; he was an Ambassador.
He had input in how things should be.
He was well known and respected
for his persuasive influence in doing the right thing.
Forty-five years ago, he had to suddenly leave.
The Communists were invading; running amok.
He lost his home and all of his possessions.
There was nothing left to save.
His life was in danger; he had to move fast
to protect himself and all of his family.
He drove his Toyota into the river; tossing his keys.
He didn’t want them to get everything.
He made it to America.
He began a new life.
His family safely again by his side.
It was then he fully realized that
he still had
all that he would ever need.
Saturday, April 20, 2019
HELLO
My cousin, Jack, was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s Disease two months ago. His first symptom was five months ago when his left leg became very weak. He has the most accepting attitude since diagnosis. Whereby two months ago, he was living alone; he now is residing in a Board and Care home in order for his needs to be met. He is declining on a daily basis, becoming weaker all of the time.
He no longer can talk on the phone as his voice has no projection. In addition, he can no longer text messages or send e-mails. His sister, Judy, visits Jack daily as she lives nearby. Jack has asked that all of our communication go through her. I so respect his decision to handle things his way, but it is so hard as I so want to be there by his side.
I have come to terms that following his wishes is helping him. I have, and will continue to communicate to Jack through Judy. Jack knows how much I love him and will, at any moment he needs, be there for him.
It is so hard to say goodbye when one wants to just say "Hello". It has made me feel so blessed that I have so many people in my life that I still am able to tell them, “Hello” whenever I want. Life is such a blessing for all of us. I know afterlife will be profound and wonderful as well. It comforts me to know that we all will be together again.
HELLO
You were only recently diagnosed,
but your decline has been swift.
No longer able to talk on the phone;
no more texting or communicating at all.
You requested no more visits;
wanting to do this part alone.
I so want to be there by your side
to once again just say, "Hello".
My heart is breaking as I am slowly,
every day, starting to say, "Goodbye."
No longer able to talk with you;
no more playing our online games.
We saw each other all of the time.
Having dinner and playing cards;
laughing so hard, tears would flow,
or just talking on the phone.
I know we all will meet up again one day.
And it will be at the most perfect time,
for both of us to happily, again,
tell each other a heartfelt and wonderful,
“Hello”.
He no longer can talk on the phone as his voice has no projection. In addition, he can no longer text messages or send e-mails. His sister, Judy, visits Jack daily as she lives nearby. Jack has asked that all of our communication go through her. I so respect his decision to handle things his way, but it is so hard as I so want to be there by his side.
I have come to terms that following his wishes is helping him. I have, and will continue to communicate to Jack through Judy. Jack knows how much I love him and will, at any moment he needs, be there for him.
It is so hard to say goodbye when one wants to just say "Hello". It has made me feel so blessed that I have so many people in my life that I still am able to tell them, “Hello” whenever I want. Life is such a blessing for all of us. I know afterlife will be profound and wonderful as well. It comforts me to know that we all will be together again.
HELLO
You were only recently diagnosed,
but your decline has been swift.
No longer able to talk on the phone;
no more texting or communicating at all.
You requested no more visits;
wanting to do this part alone.
I so want to be there by your side
to once again just say, "Hello".
My heart is breaking as I am slowly,
every day, starting to say, "Goodbye."
No longer able to talk with you;
no more playing our online games.
We saw each other all of the time.
Having dinner and playing cards;
laughing so hard, tears would flow,
or just talking on the phone.
I know we all will meet up again one day.
And it will be at the most perfect time,
for both of us to happily, again,
tell each other a heartfelt and wonderful,
“Hello”.
Saturday, April 13, 2019
ASK WHY
“George”, eighty-two, was referred to hospice because of heart disease. George has been in a recent decline in the past few months. He is becoming weaker and more confused. He needs help with all of his activities of daily living.
The hospice nurse and I met George and his daughter, “Jennie”, in George’s apartment at the Assisted Living Facility where he has lived for nine years. When we walked into George’s apartment, he immediately started to talk to us. He rambled on and on about family stories of the past, intermixing his memories of his career as a chemist.
He would show us old photos and explain them to us, but his words were so sporadic and very difficult to follow. The nurse and I both knew that we would need to speak with Jennie alone about hospice support and her father’s needs.
The beautiful part of it all was his daughter, Jennie. She was so gentle and kind to her father. She visits him weekly and with such patience, gives him pure love.
Meeting George made me so sad. It always brings up the question, “Why?” to me. With his brilliant mind, what amazing things could he have achieved. It not only is a huge loss for George, but also for all of us.
ASK WHY
He was a brilliant man.
Science came so easy to him.
He graduated from Stanford University;
working as a Chemist; following his dream.
The next few years worked so well for him.
He was doing what he so loved to do.
Then came some bizarre behavior.
Schizophrenia was to blame.
He fumbled a bit, but continued to work.
As the years flowed by, it became harder to do.
He would then work for less than six months;
subsequently to be told, it was time to go.
He now is in his eighties; living in a care home.
He wants to talk; to share stories about his life,
but his speech is frenzied; so hard to follow;
making no sense at all.
Why did his life throw so many challenges?
Why didn’t he get a fair break?
I can only imagine what he could have accomplished,
but he never got the chance.
It makes no sense to me.
Life can be so unfair.
I know that there are no logical answers,
but I will always continue to just ask
“Why?”
The hospice nurse and I met George and his daughter, “Jennie”, in George’s apartment at the Assisted Living Facility where he has lived for nine years. When we walked into George’s apartment, he immediately started to talk to us. He rambled on and on about family stories of the past, intermixing his memories of his career as a chemist.
He would show us old photos and explain them to us, but his words were so sporadic and very difficult to follow. The nurse and I both knew that we would need to speak with Jennie alone about hospice support and her father’s needs.
The beautiful part of it all was his daughter, Jennie. She was so gentle and kind to her father. She visits him weekly and with such patience, gives him pure love.
Meeting George made me so sad. It always brings up the question, “Why?” to me. With his brilliant mind, what amazing things could he have achieved. It not only is a huge loss for George, but also for all of us.
ASK WHY
He was a brilliant man.
Science came so easy to him.
He graduated from Stanford University;
working as a Chemist; following his dream.
The next few years worked so well for him.
He was doing what he so loved to do.
Then came some bizarre behavior.
Schizophrenia was to blame.
He fumbled a bit, but continued to work.
As the years flowed by, it became harder to do.
He would then work for less than six months;
subsequently to be told, it was time to go.
He now is in his eighties; living in a care home.
He wants to talk; to share stories about his life,
but his speech is frenzied; so hard to follow;
making no sense at all.
Why did his life throw so many challenges?
Why didn’t he get a fair break?
I can only imagine what he could have accomplished,
but he never got the chance.
It makes no sense to me.
Life can be so unfair.
I know that there are no logical answers,
but I will always continue to just ask
“Why?”
Sunday, April 7, 2019
WASHER
The hospice nurse and I went out to admit, "Betty", eighty-four, to our hospice program. Betty had suffered from lung disease for years. She was in a recent, rapid decline. We went out to meet Betty and her daughter, "Patricia". Patricia, the nurse and I sat in the living room of Betty's home to admit her to our hospice program.
During the Admission Visit, we educate patients and families about our program and the twenty-four hour support. During the course of our visit, Patricia started to share life stories about both of her parents. It was then when she shared the story about the washer. It gave Patricia peace; knowing and believing that her father placed the washer there.
I frequently hear stories from families on how a deceased loved one comes back after their death to let the family know that they are still around. Maybe not physically, but their spirit and devotion are forever with those whom they loved while on Earth. It validates to me that death may not be an ending, but a beginning. Room for thought I am sure.
WASHER
He was an Engineer by trade.
He knew all about washers, bolts and screws.
He was totally devoted to his profession,
but his family always came first.
His focus was on his wife and children.
Their needs so important to him.
He was regularly there to fix what was broken
or to bandage up a child's skinned knee.
She was telling me about her father.
How he died five years ago from cancer.
He was buried in the local cemetery.
She revisited his gravesite the very next day.
There was just a rectangle square of smooth soil
as his tombstone was not yet placed.
Right in the middle, in the perfect center of it all
was a small, silver coated washer.
How did it land so perfectly centered?
Did her father place it there?
She then drove over to visit her mother.
She found her trying to stop a faucet leak.
She didn't know how to fix it.
She couldn't make it stop.
Her daughter then told her about the gravesite.
She immediately knew what to do.
While she replaced the worn out washer,
she felt his love; his tenderness; his devotion.
He was still caring for his family.
She then knew he would always be around.
During the Admission Visit, we educate patients and families about our program and the twenty-four hour support. During the course of our visit, Patricia started to share life stories about both of her parents. It was then when she shared the story about the washer. It gave Patricia peace; knowing and believing that her father placed the washer there.
I frequently hear stories from families on how a deceased loved one comes back after their death to let the family know that they are still around. Maybe not physically, but their spirit and devotion are forever with those whom they loved while on Earth. It validates to me that death may not be an ending, but a beginning. Room for thought I am sure.
WASHER
He was an Engineer by trade.
He knew all about washers, bolts and screws.
He was totally devoted to his profession,
but his family always came first.
His focus was on his wife and children.
Their needs so important to him.
He was regularly there to fix what was broken
or to bandage up a child's skinned knee.
She was telling me about her father.
How he died five years ago from cancer.
He was buried in the local cemetery.
She revisited his gravesite the very next day.
There was just a rectangle square of smooth soil
as his tombstone was not yet placed.
Right in the middle, in the perfect center of it all
was a small, silver coated washer.
How did it land so perfectly centered?
Did her father place it there?
She then drove over to visit her mother.
She found her trying to stop a faucet leak.
She didn't know how to fix it.
She couldn't make it stop.
Her daughter then told her about the gravesite.
She immediately knew what to do.
While she replaced the worn out washer,
she felt his love; his tenderness; his devotion.
He was still caring for his family.
She then knew he would always be around.
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