HI CHRIS

Chris, sixty-nine years old, came onto hospice six weeks ago.   The moment the hospice nurse and I walked into their home, one could feel the love and comfort embracing their home.  Chris spoke so lovingly about his wife and daughter.  Kindness and care just flowed around Chris.  He became serious when talking with the nurse about his illness, but with a very dry sense of humor, he would immediately switch and catch us all off guard.  He was so funny.  

I so strongly feel that Chris and I were meant to meet.  There were many coincidences in our two lives.  Chris’s mother’s name is Mary Lou, as is mine.  Chris and his family lived in San Jose for many years; as did I.  His daughter Hannah was born at 28 weeks; as was I.   I was amazed by those facts. 

Chris was on hospice about five weeks before he peacefully died.  His memorial was today.  I had to be there as much for myself and for Chris and his family.  I, along with everyone who was present today, all felt so gifted in having him in their lives.  I feel gifted just meeting him once.  He was a very special soul.  I feel so gracious knowing his legacy is forever here.

HI CHRIS

 

I just want to say, “Hi Chris”.

We met only once about six weeks ago,

when the hospice nurse and I admitted you;

and you are someone I will never forget.

 

The moment we walked into your home,

I so strongly felt your appreciation for life, your strong faith,

but especially your love for your wife, Betsy

and your sixteen-year-old daughter, Hannah.

 

You totally accepted your terminal diagnosis

while embracing us for just being there.

But, in addition, one of your best attributes was

                         your dry sense of humor.

 

I attended your celebration of life today.

So many sharing stories about your caring heart.

You always made everyone feel so significant,

but it was you who was the most special of us all.

 

I spoke with Betsy and Hannah today

sharing my own personal need to be there.

“I am as much here today for me and for Chris.

He is someone I will always remember”. 

 

Betsy then shared with me,

“Not long before Chris died, he said,

“I want to see Marilou”; while then tenderly adding;

                         “And you are here today”.

 

It was totally to celebrate you today, Chris

as no one was even close to saying goodbye.

Your legacy is forever around all of us;

and yes, one day soon, I will again, lovingly say,

                         “Hi Chris.”

 

 

 

              

GO SLOW

I was diagnosed with Orthostatic Hypotension three weeks ago.  I had been struggling with shortness of breath and lightheadedness for several weeks prior.  Once I received the diagnosis, my doctor gave me instructions regarding the benefit of moving slowly which can prevent those symptoms.

I am, bit by bit, getting stronger, but it is happening very slowly.  I did not know what my future would be or if I could live my life my way again.  Yes, this has definitely changed how I am doing activities, but talking with my doctor today, she most definitely gave me hope.  My emotions are in a much better place.  I have reached out to my support network and updated them, which also gives me peace.  Thank you to my doctor, my family and friends; as I am never alone.

GO SLOW

I have been slowly getting stronger

since being diagnosed one month ago;

resulting in low blood pressure symptoms

from any hardy exertion.

Listening to my doctor and reading research,

the key word to it all is “slow down!”

Slow isn’t a natural movement for me,

so, I continue to say inside, “Go slow”.

I’ve been on blood pressure medication for years,

but due to this condition, I no longer need them.

I take my blood pressure each morning

with the results always being normal.

I have been grieving my future

as truly did not know what it would be;

but talking with my doctor today,

she so actively gave me hope.

“You are a very healthy person

and I see you slowly improving

to live a long and active life.

Just always remember to;

                         Go slow”.

RETIREMENT

 About five weeks ago, I would suddenly become lightheaded, short of breath and weak.  After multiple tests being normal, I was diagnosed with Orthostatic Hypotension.  My blood pressure would suddenly drop after any strong exertion.  My husband and I have done a lot of research, along with guidance from my physician, and I am learning slow and gentle behaviors.  I am slowly getting stronger and able to do a lot more.  

Due to those limitations, I strongly know that I cannot do hospice social work any longer.  I am grieving that loss but know that is my reality.  My focus is on getting stronger and being aware of my new “normal”.  I will then let go and flow to where my journey takes me.  

The staff had a celebration for me today in the office.  Being there today was wonderful.  I was with my co-workers/family.  I felt that before long, I likely may be back in another role.  That is what keeps me going.  

My Blog may not have weekly stories, but I will likely continue to write poetry.   I would love for you to check in now and then.  Thank you for all of your support these past 17 years I have been posting.  It means a lot.

 RETIREMENT

Today was my last day at hospice.

I am now officially retired. 
I thought I would work for many years more,

but the arrow flew directly into my heart.

I was diagnosed with something I never heard of,

but it is a common occurrence among us all.

With any quick exertion, my blood pressure drops

resulting in light headiness and shortness of breath.

There is no cure or treatment but knowing how to go slow.

It’s best to walk slowly, rise from a chair gradually and be gentle.

I am getting stronger daily following these guidelines.

Once I know my new baseline, I will let go and allow my journey to flow.

Hospice had a celebration party for me today

which totally melted my heart.

Hearing how I was a mentor, a hugger, and a teacher.

All said with sadness as not wanting me to go.

I know I made a difference at hospice;

to the patients, to the families, and staff alike.

I know that I will never be ready

to ever completely give any of that up.

I may have officially retired, but I am not, quite yet, done.

So strongly, I believe, from deep within my heart,

I may volunteer or help hospice in some other way as

                         I know that, before long, 

                                                  I will be back.