I SAW

Our admitting department got an urgent request, from a local hospital, to have a Social Worker come over to see one of their patients.  “Ryan”, fifty-two, was diagnosed with Liver Cancer just last month.   He was homeless and had a long history of drug abuse.  His only family was a cousin who lived in another state.  

Ryan has been in a recent, rapid decline; hence the hospitalization.  I met with the discharge planner at the hospital who said that he doesn’t want any extraordinary measures, but is appropriately struggling with totally letting go to admit to hospice and comfort care.  

I went to meet with Ryan in order to hear from him what his wishes are.   Immediately I saw his kindness and his heart.  He so deeply spoke his truth; and I to him.  I totally saw his loving and caring soul.  He touched me so deeply.   His life’s journey, like all of us, will be what it will be.

I SAW 

 

It really wasn’t clear to us

as to why the hospital asked us to come.

We knew his cancer diagnosis was recent

and that it had already spread to other organs.

 

He is homeless with no family around;

and, regrettably, a long history of drug abuse.

He is only fifty-two and understandably wants to live,

but unfortunately, there are no further treatment options.

 

He was lying quietly on his side when I walked in.

His voice was so faint, but he strongly told his truth.

“I am not sure if I want to go onto hospice,

but then, I know I can’t do this alone.”

 

He saw the truth; he saw the reality.

“We have all said and done things wrong in our life.

Those are opportunities to learn and grow.

You will hear, ‘Well done’ when you cross over.”

 

His eyes lit up; while listening to what I said.

I hope it gave him some peace; some comfort.

I saw what heaven will see when he crosses over.

I saw his heart; I saw his soul; I saw his beauty.

 

He will be guided when it is his time.

He will know when to gracefully let go.

He will be embraced with love; with comfort.

It will then be his time to deeply know and believe;

                    “I see”.

 

KINDRED SPIRITS

Hospice received a referral today for “Walter” and “Millie”.  Walter and Millie are both in their nineties and live together in a Memory Care unit.  They have been married for over sixty years and have three children.  Their daughter, “Theresa”, lives nearby and visits her parents every other day. 

Both Walter and Millie have been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease.  Hearing their story amazed the hospice nurse and I.  So many parallels.  Alzheimer’s is such a cruel disease as one can live with it for so many years.  One loses a loved one long before they die.  

Being in the Memory Care unit, I so admire and respect the workers there.  Caregivers so work from their hearts.  To me, I have no doubt that caregivers are, from deep inside, truly angels,

KINDRED SPIRITS 

 

When they walked down the aisle

on their wedding day 63 years ago,

did either of them ever think,

“We will forever be kindred spirits”.

 

He was an engineer by trade

while she stayed home to raise their kids.

When he retired, they purchased 30 acres,

to grow and eat the best apples around.

 

They have had long and fulfilling lives,

both living over ninety years.

The past ten years have been tough though,

as both have been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.

 

They now live together in a Memory Care unit.

He, with garbled speech, she; a poor historian.

They both are slowly becoming weaker.

She uses a walker, while he needs his wheelchair.

 

Both are sleeping more and eating less.

Not surprisingly; each are losing weight.

She now doesn’t like to get out of bed;

while he will sleep in until noon.

 

They don’t talk about their dependence;

they don’t express their hurt; their pain,

but how much do they understand?

How much do they really know?

 

Likely more than most of us realize;

as not too long ago, their daughter shared,

“They turned to each other and both said,

“I want it to be over.  I am so ready to die.”

                    Indisputably, kindred spirits.

 

ALWAYS LATE

A few days after a death, the Social Worker will call the family to offer condolences and support.  One of our Social Workers is on vacation this week so I made a few of the calls for her.  I spoke to “Abigail” a daughter of one of the patients who had died two days ago.  Abigail shared a lot of stories about her family.  She had an amazing sense of humor which had both of us laughing. 

 I loved the stories that she told about her mother as she let me know who her mother truly was.  Quite often the disease is so powerful and strong, it is what the family sees first, but her mother sound like so much fun.  This is an amazing family.  Abigail was so easily able to see who her mother was which was so not the disease.  Keep telling your stories Abigail. 

ALWAYS LATE 

 

I called her daughter to offer support

as Mom peacefully died just the other day.

When asked how she is coping, she said,

                     “I am doing pretty good.”

 

“I always called her the worm

as her illness was so up and down.

Now I am the worm, as my emotions too,

                    are now way up and down.”

 

She then shared stories about her family;

using lots of humor helping her to cope.

“She was never on time, but always so late

as would bake a cake when we had to leave”.

 

She loved to watch the local basketball team.

They were doing pretty good this year.

“We knew her time was getting near, so I told her,

“Dad will truly say, you are again very late”.

 

The other night, we were all watching basketball on the TV.

Her team was definitely going to win.

The moment the buzzer rang the closing bell,

she quietly took her final breath.

 

“For once in her life,

                    she was right on time.”

 

IT'S FIVE O'CLOCK SOMEWHERE

“Frances”, eighty-five years old, suffers from kidney disease.  She has been on dialysis three days a week for ten years.  France’s husband died at such a young age that she raised her three children alone.  Frances is very realistic and looks at life in a true way.  She accepts the good along with the bad.  Her granddaughter, “Cindy”, is her caregiver.  Cindy says that her grandmother’s humor is wonderful.  It allows her to handle what life brings in a positive light.  

Frances was in a deep sleep while we were there doing the hospice admission.  It was wonderful to hear Cindy share stories about her grandmother.  The family has suffered multiple recent losses.  Two of France’s children have died in the past four years; both from cancer.  Frances is very realistic regarding both of those losses. 

I strongly believe that terminal patients know when to let go.  Through my experience of doing hospice work, there are way too many coincidences that help support that theory.  I know Frances had some insight for when that would be for her.  I know now she continues to watch over her family; those here on earth and those on the other side.

IT’S FIVE O’CLOCK SOMEWHERE 

 

She has lived a full, long life;

staying healthy, lively and funny.

She had three children and a loving husband;

living a life the best way it could ever be.

 

Suddenly hard times reared its ugly head.

Her husband died unexpectedly at age thirty-three.

She then went to work at a law office;

not able to be a “stay-at-home” mother

                    that she so desired to be.

 

She had such a positive outlook about life;

finding the good in everything.

There were normal ups and downs;

but her optimist humor always eased the pain.

 

She went on dialysis ten years ago

because her kidneys needed some support.

She recently did hear, “Dialysis is no longer effective.”

She has accepted it and is ready to go.

 

Her decline is rapid as she is so weak and not eating.

She is sleeping most all of the time.

She is seeing those who have crossed before her.

She is so ready to say goodbye.

 

On the day of hospice’s admission, we were told,

“Today she keeps asking me what is the time?

She really wants to know as keeps repeating,

I predict I will die at 5PM today.”

 

She died early this morning an hour after midnight.

It wasn’t 5PM like she strongly forecasted,

but it was her fifth day on our hospice program.

Who is to say she was wrong as;

                    It is five o’clock somewhere.