HERO

Hospice received a referral today for “Liam”, an eighty-one-year-old Vietnamese gentleman, who lives in a downtown Residential Care Facility.   He has no family in America, but has two children living in Vietnam.  When the nurse and I walked into his room at the facility, he so gently smiled at us and softly said, “Hello”.  He spoke gently due to weakness, but one felt the strong kindness from his heart. 

He shared his amazing story about his life during and after the Vietnam conflict.  He stayed very low key about it all.  I was so fascinated by what he shared.  He has only returned to American a year ago and does not know many people with whom he could share.  I honestly expressed to him the impact of his stories on my heart and on my soul.  I said, “You are a true hero,” which brought him tears.   I feel so honored to have met him.  He is someone I will never forget. 

HERO

 

He resides in a facility downtown.

He has only been there three months.

He has a private room, just for himself

and the staff just totally adore him.

 

Walking into his room, he looked so thin; so pale.

He stays in bed most of the day due to weakness.

He’s been in a recent two-month decline, but

he had me with his hearty smile and kind, “Hello”.

 

He was born in Vietnam but speaks English very well.

He came to America during the Vietnam conflict;

to become a translator for the CIA.

The only Vietnamese ever, before or later, to do so.

 

His own country sees him as a traitor;

a criminal supporting the enemy abroad.

They captured him on one visit home.

He spent 13 years in a Vietnamese prison.

 

He was rescued by Americans last year.

He has since repatriated to the United States.

He knows he will never see his family again;

a thought that appropriately brings him tears.

 

I cannot even imagine his deep emotions; his grief,

but what stands out to me was all the good he has done.

“I feel so honored to have met you today

                     to have heard your incredible story.”

 

“Stand up tall and be proud

as you have made such an amazing difference.

You have sacrificed so much to do good;

helping so many along the way.”

 

There is no hesitation in me at all,

that he is definitely, without a doubt,                                    

                    A hero.                                                                              

 

OUT OF ORDER

All of us experience losses as we travel along our way.   When I see a referral for any patient ninety years of age or older, the first thing that comes to mind is how likely they have had suffered many losses along the way.  “Helen”, ninety years of age lives with her adult granddaughter, “Hillery”.  Helen suffers from Alzheimer’s Disease and needs help with her daily activities.

Hillary spoke about their family history while telling stories about her grandmother’s life.   Hillary shared that there is longevity in their family.    One of Helen’s brothers just recently died at 102 years of age.   Hillary shared beautiful stories about the family, but my heart was touched so deeply when Hillary spoke about Helen’s three sons and the losses that she and Hillary shared surround her sons.  I wish them both the best.

OUT OF ORDER 

 

She was sitting quietly in her wheelchair

when we walked into her home.

She didn’t say much at all,

but gave us such a beautiful smile.

 

Her adult granddaughter cares for her

as she needs a lot of help with her daily needs.

She has had Alzheimer’s Disease for quite a while;

now eating and drinking so very little.

 

She has had a lot of losses in her life,

but love still fully surrounds her

as it was so exquisitely and beautifully clear

how much her granddaughter loved her.

 

Her family is small, but she did have three sons.

Her eldest son died fifteen years ago from an accident.

Her middle son has been estranged for years.

Her youngest son suffers from Autism.

 

Many folks who reach ninety years of age like her,

so easily, may experience multiple loss along the way,

but losing a child has to be the hardest loss of all.

                   It is definitely so

                                         out of order.

 

A CAREGIVER

I met Judy over thirty years ago in Graduate School.   She moved to San Diego shortly after our graduation, but we have always stayed connected with weekly phone calls and visits to each other’s home along the way.  She has done Medical Social Work as have I, but truly what brings us together is our spirituality.  

She knew about needing her surgery many months ago.  My plan was to be with her during that time.  Her daughter, Beth, was visiting her as well.  Beth had been there a few days prior to surgery and flew home four days afterwards.  I was then with Judy the next seven days alone.  

I so focused on doing what I needed physically to do to help; while not even thinking about the emotional drain it may take.  As the days progressed, she was slowly recovering and getting stronger.  That was the wonderful part of it all.  But then, I was emotionally and physically slowly getting drained, which was also so likely normal.  It just surprised me even though intellectually I was so aware, but then, my emotions knew nothing at all. 

In the end, it isn’t really that complicated at all.  I just know she appreciated me being there and knew I would do anything she needed to help.  I also know, she has done; and will again if needed, the same for me. 

A CAREGIVER

 

I have worked with caregivers

my entire thirty plus year career.

Counseling; supporting; educating;

normalizing wherever they needed to be.

 

Now it was I, who was a caregiver;

as I have just returned home yesterday;

being away ten days to care for a friend

who was recovering from major surgery.

 

I wanted to help her in any way that was needed.

I wanted to support her physically and emotionally,

without even thinking of my own inner thoughts

                    or physical needs that might arise.

 

My focus was so on “What can I do? What does she need?”

I made no moment to relax as my mind was so on her.

I wanted to help her recover, while wanting to fix things.

Unreachable goals for anyone, as it truly is all about;

                    “Just being there”.

 

I was there as much for myself as for her.

A perfect example of unconditional love; deep friendship.

There were no exact tasks to do; no precise steps.

She knowing that all she had to do was ask; was the perfection.

 

I know caregiving is an emotional and physical undertaking,

but somehow, I did not even think about how it would impact me.

Intellectually knowing the truth gets smothered and drowned

by convincing emotions that overpower it all.

 

I hoped my caregiving support helped her these past ten days.

I also hoped she felt my support emotionally as well.

In the end, I may have been a “Just okay” caregiver,

but I hope she truly knows and believes that

                    I have and will; always be her friend.

 

DO I KNOW HER?

The hospice nurse and I received a hospice referral for early this afternoon.  On one hand, her name sounded familiar, but then, on the other hand, it was not an uncommon surname.  When we walked into the family room where “Ellen” was sitting on the couch;  we both knew instantly that we had worked together in hospice many years ago.  She remembered that I hired on about one year before she left.  She was a nurse case manager.  She left our hospice to return to school to become a Nurse Practitioner. 

I then concentrated on focusing on her and her husband’s needs.  But then, I had moments when I just wanted to hug her.  I would then say to myself, “I have the opportunity to give her the gift of caring; of supporting; of being by her side with hospice’s gift of comfort care.” 

I was able to let go after the visit when I returned to my car. Grief is very strong and no one is immune from its strong presence.  I was so reminded of that powerful emotion today.

DO I KNOW HER? 

 

We received a referral this morning

for an early afternoon hospice admission.

The name sounded familiar, but then,

it wasn’t an uncommon surname.

 

She was sitting next to her husband on the couch.

Her first words to me were, “I know you.”

I, so surprisingly, answered the same,

                    “I think I know you too”.

 

We worked together at hospice many years ago.

She was a nurse case manager; while I did admissions.

Hospice was a natural calling for her.

She has the most beautiful, loving heart.

 

Now she has a rare neurological disease.

It is impacting her entire body.

She is declining on a weekly basis.

Only three Americans have this diagnosis.

 

She has such an uplifting personality.

When I asked her, “How are you coping with this,”

she straightforwardly answered,

“I am in a relief knowing what it is”.

 

While in the home, I focused on supporting them,

but as I returned to my car, grief hit me hard.

I was suddenly so sad; with a few tears emerging.

Life seems so unfair; so cruel to them.

 

She was so loving; so gracious in our presence.

She welcomed our knowledge; our support.

She gave back to us one thousand-fold,

but then, the hardest part for me was,

                    Yes, I do know her.