“Alan”, ninety-four, has been active most of his life. Alan lives with “Dorothy”, his wife of seventy three years. They have three adult sons who all live nearby. Years ago, Alan inherited an eighty acre farm from his father. The business has grown over the years, to where Alan and his three sons now work hundreds of acres in the area.
Alan and Dorothy have a twenty-four hour attendant as Dorothy suffers from Dementia. Alan recently had a heart attack and was hospitalized for care. His heart is failing and he is on continuous oxygen. His body has taken a large hit. Alan is very weak and will need constant care himself now.
The hospice nurse and I went out to the hospital to meet with Alan and his three sons. Alan’s doctor had made the hospice referral earlier, and the family was ready to have our services. Alan didn’t talk much as is hard of hearing. His sons were very involved and signed all the paperwork required.
The family farm has been a successful business for years. Alan’s hard work has paid off in so many ways. He taught his sons well as they, too, are very hard workers. Alan has accepted what was happened to him without complaint. He will smile so easily. Where once his father handed the business over to him, Alan now had completely handed over the farm to his three sons.
Alan has lived his life to the fullest and is not yet ready to stop living. He was anxious to get home to be with his wife. He feels confident about his business as knows his sons will keep it going like he has had for so many years. Alan will brag about growing acres of tomatoes, almonds and sunflowers. His spunk and spirit were inspiring. Whatever the day brings, he will cherish the joy in it. What a teacher Alan is for all of us.
A LONG LIFE
He’s lived a long life.
He’s accomplished quite a bit.
Endless hours harvesting the earth;
raising three hard-working sons.
He inherited the farm from his father.
Raising tomatoes, sunflowers and almonds.
Knowing when to hand the business over
to his three grown sons.
After ninety-four years of hard living,
his body can take no more.
His heart and lungs are weakening.
It’s time for him to slow down.
He has an easy smile.
Not much will get him down.
He appreciates his life; his sons.
He’s happy just to know he’s going home.
I asked him about his longevity.
What is his secret to such a long life?
With a sheepish smile, he turned and said,
“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten there yet.”
Saturday, January 17, 2015
Saturday, January 10, 2015
INVISIBLE BARS
“Albert”, eighty-six, has suffered from Alzheimer’s Disease for over ten years. He is widowed and lives in a Residential Care Facility where someone is available twenty-four hours a day to attend to his needs. Albert is able to walk slowly with some assistance. He has cataracts and can barely see. He is very hard of hearing and one must speak into his one good ear in order to communicate with him. Albert understands simple instructions.
Albert has been in a recent decline to where he is weaker, sleeping more and eating less. He is getting more confused and has started to resist staff when they are trying to assist him. Albert has four daughters, although only his youngest, “Betsy” ever routinely visits.
The hospice nurse and I went out to meet with Albert and Betsy this morning to admit him to our hospice program. Albert was sitting about fifty feet away from us in a recliner chair. Every so often, he would start a conversation with no one there. Betsy said her dad talks to John F. Kennedy quite often. Albert would laugh, then sit back in his chair with a contented look on his face.
Betsy lives about thirty minutes away and visits weekly. She said her other sisters rarely visit. Betsy’s eldest sister lives two states away and suffers from Multiple Sclerosis which limits her activity level. She does fly down occasionally to visit her dad and help her sister as much as she can.
Betsy said another sister lives nearby but only visits every three to four months. Betsy said her sister is in strong denial and wants things done to keep her dad alive. Fortunately, Albert assigned Betsy as his agent on his Advanced Directive so only she, legally, can express his medical wishes.
Betsy’s third sister, who had been a big help to Betsy, was recently incarcerated. Betsy added that they don’t know how long she will be in prison. It is a huge loss for Betsy as she was the only sibling who helped out.
It made me think that bars can be visible and invisible. Prison bars are strong and impassable. In addition, one can feel just as trapped with limitations due to poor health. Also, the invisible bars we place ourselves, are just as powerful and impenetrable.
INVISIBLE BARS
He seems happy and pretty content,
although his memory is all but gone.
He talks when no one is about.
His vision and hearing have faded away.
He’s trapped inside his body
by invisible bars hidden from view.
There is no way out for him;
no magical key.
He has four grown daughters,
but only one ever comes around.
The eldest lives in another state.
Multiple Sclerosis keeps her away.
Another is in strong denial.
Her visits are many months between.
She cannot face her father’s prognosis.
Staying away makes everything okay.
A third daughter was recently arrested.
She will be incarcerated for a long time.
Her bars are real and holding her inside,
leaving her one sister to carry the burden alone.
Invisible or not, both bars are equally strong.
Even though few ever escape from a prison cell,
the invisible bars of poor health; of denial
are the most compelling bars of all.
Albert has been in a recent decline to where he is weaker, sleeping more and eating less. He is getting more confused and has started to resist staff when they are trying to assist him. Albert has four daughters, although only his youngest, “Betsy” ever routinely visits.
The hospice nurse and I went out to meet with Albert and Betsy this morning to admit him to our hospice program. Albert was sitting about fifty feet away from us in a recliner chair. Every so often, he would start a conversation with no one there. Betsy said her dad talks to John F. Kennedy quite often. Albert would laugh, then sit back in his chair with a contented look on his face.
Betsy lives about thirty minutes away and visits weekly. She said her other sisters rarely visit. Betsy’s eldest sister lives two states away and suffers from Multiple Sclerosis which limits her activity level. She does fly down occasionally to visit her dad and help her sister as much as she can.
Betsy said another sister lives nearby but only visits every three to four months. Betsy said her sister is in strong denial and wants things done to keep her dad alive. Fortunately, Albert assigned Betsy as his agent on his Advanced Directive so only she, legally, can express his medical wishes.
Betsy’s third sister, who had been a big help to Betsy, was recently incarcerated. Betsy added that they don’t know how long she will be in prison. It is a huge loss for Betsy as she was the only sibling who helped out.
It made me think that bars can be visible and invisible. Prison bars are strong and impassable. In addition, one can feel just as trapped with limitations due to poor health. Also, the invisible bars we place ourselves, are just as powerful and impenetrable.
INVISIBLE BARS
He seems happy and pretty content,
although his memory is all but gone.
He talks when no one is about.
His vision and hearing have faded away.
He’s trapped inside his body
by invisible bars hidden from view.
There is no way out for him;
no magical key.
He has four grown daughters,
but only one ever comes around.
The eldest lives in another state.
Multiple Sclerosis keeps her away.
Another is in strong denial.
Her visits are many months between.
She cannot face her father’s prognosis.
Staying away makes everything okay.
A third daughter was recently arrested.
She will be incarcerated for a long time.
Her bars are real and holding her inside,
leaving her one sister to carry the burden alone.
Invisible or not, both bars are equally strong.
Even though few ever escape from a prison cell,
the invisible bars of poor health; of denial
are the most compelling bars of all.
Sunday, January 4, 2015
HOVER
“Bonnie”, sixty-four, was diagnosed two years ago with leukemia. Bonnie lives with her husband, “Brad” and her two adult sons. She took a fall eleven days ago and was hospitalized for internal bleeding. She had numerous blood transfusions and platelets to no avail. The doctors told the family that there is nothing more to be done.
The hospice nurse and I went out to meet with Bonnie and her family shortly after she arrived home from the hospital. Bonnie is very weak which made communication difficult. It appears she likely has just days to live. Bonnie was sleeping nearby while the nurse and I sat at the kitchen table with Brad to talk about hospice support.
Bonnie’s two sons were standing by their mother asking her if she needed this or needed that. They were trying hard to help her, but not really knowing what to do. With any laugh or loud talk from his sons, Brad would jump up and rush over to Bonnie’s side. The whole family was so anxious and could not stop hovering over Bonnie.
Quite often men will grieve by doing tasks. Men are good at fixing things and that is what they want to do. They want to make Bonnie better. Many of us feel like we are accomplishing things by doing tasks, but just being there is huge for folks. If the boys and Brad just sat quietly next to Bonnie, they wouldn’t feel like they were doing anything, but Bonnie would know that, in a heartbeat, they would do anything to help her.
I heard a quote that I now have hanging in my workstation saying, “Don’t just do something, sit there.” Doing something often makes us feel better, but sitting there, is wonderful support for the patient.
Bonnie was the anchor in the family and will be sorely missed. I hope that Brad and his sons avail themselves to hospice’s bereavement support. I think it will help them through these tough times that lie ahead.
HOVER
All three are hovering around.
They don’t want to leave her side.
They’re helpless to what she needs,
but feel the urge to just do something.
The doctors said there is no treatment.
Her disease has run its course.
They were anxious to get her home.
Now they don’t quite know what to do.
Inside they want to fix things.
They want to make her well.
She was the strong one; the anchor
who held them all together.
“Are you cold; a blanket?
Are you thirsty; a small sip?
Let’s move the bed over here
so you can see the TV easier”.
They are doing tasks
for a need to do just something.
Their hearts are in the right place,
but all she needs is for them to just be.
It is obvious how much she is loved by them.
I know she feels it too.
So they will continue to hover nearby,
as that is all that they know how to do.
The hospice nurse and I went out to meet with Bonnie and her family shortly after she arrived home from the hospital. Bonnie is very weak which made communication difficult. It appears she likely has just days to live. Bonnie was sleeping nearby while the nurse and I sat at the kitchen table with Brad to talk about hospice support.
Bonnie’s two sons were standing by their mother asking her if she needed this or needed that. They were trying hard to help her, but not really knowing what to do. With any laugh or loud talk from his sons, Brad would jump up and rush over to Bonnie’s side. The whole family was so anxious and could not stop hovering over Bonnie.
Quite often men will grieve by doing tasks. Men are good at fixing things and that is what they want to do. They want to make Bonnie better. Many of us feel like we are accomplishing things by doing tasks, but just being there is huge for folks. If the boys and Brad just sat quietly next to Bonnie, they wouldn’t feel like they were doing anything, but Bonnie would know that, in a heartbeat, they would do anything to help her.
I heard a quote that I now have hanging in my workstation saying, “Don’t just do something, sit there.” Doing something often makes us feel better, but sitting there, is wonderful support for the patient.
Bonnie was the anchor in the family and will be sorely missed. I hope that Brad and his sons avail themselves to hospice’s bereavement support. I think it will help them through these tough times that lie ahead.
HOVER
All three are hovering around.
They don’t want to leave her side.
They’re helpless to what she needs,
but feel the urge to just do something.
The doctors said there is no treatment.
Her disease has run its course.
They were anxious to get her home.
Now they don’t quite know what to do.
Inside they want to fix things.
They want to make her well.
She was the strong one; the anchor
who held them all together.
“Are you cold; a blanket?
Are you thirsty; a small sip?
Let’s move the bed over here
so you can see the TV easier”.
They are doing tasks
for a need to do just something.
Their hearts are in the right place,
but all she needs is for them to just be.
It is obvious how much she is loved by them.
I know she feels it too.
So they will continue to hover nearby,
as that is all that they know how to do.
Saturday, December 27, 2014
THE HIKER
“Betty”, eighty-seven, suffers from dementia. She has been in a rapid decline for the past two weeks. She is getting weaker, more confused and unstable on her feet. She is eating very little and has recently lost over ten pounds.
Betty has lived in a Residential Care Facility for three years as she needs constant care and supervision. Betty has been married sixty-six years to “Greg”. Greg lives a mile away and visits Betty every other day. Betty and Greg have four adult children; of which three live nearby. The family is very devoted to Betty.
The hospice admission nurse and I went out to Betty’s facility to meet with Greg and their daughter, “Gloria”. Gloria and Greg just bragged about all of Betty’s accomplishments. She sounded like such an amazing woman. Nothing would ever stop her from reaching her goals. Greg proudly shared so many stories of their travels all over the world.
Betty loved to hike and Greg said he never could keep up with her. Greg is tall and robust while Betty is a little over five feet tall and petite. Greg would laugh while sharing stories about Betty. The family all have a great sense of humor and laugh easily. A few tears were shed, though, when talking about how Betty is today.
Betty doesn’t talk and often does not even recognize her family. She looks content and willingly goes along when staff slowly walk her to dining room for a meal. Likely it is a blessing for her not to remember all that she has lost. Her legacy will remain alive as long as Greg continues to brag and share Betty’s amazing life and stories.
THE HIKER
She loved to hike.
She’s trekked all over the world.
He bragged about her endurance.
How he never could keep up with her.
She hiked Mt. Kilimanjaro.
She hiked parts of Mt. Everest.
Nothing she did ever surprised him.
She was a trailblazer from the start.
He bragged about her intellect.
How she got a degree in Chemistry,
while other women her generation
were proud to be homemakers.
Seeing her now, one would be surprised.
Tiny, frail, confused, helpless.
Any resemblance of her adventurous spirit,
now buried way too deep inside.
He still sees an inspirational woman.
He sees her pioneering spirit.
He sees the woman he fell in love with
so many years ago.
The trailblazer;
the hiker.
Betty has lived in a Residential Care Facility for three years as she needs constant care and supervision. Betty has been married sixty-six years to “Greg”. Greg lives a mile away and visits Betty every other day. Betty and Greg have four adult children; of which three live nearby. The family is very devoted to Betty.
The hospice admission nurse and I went out to Betty’s facility to meet with Greg and their daughter, “Gloria”. Gloria and Greg just bragged about all of Betty’s accomplishments. She sounded like such an amazing woman. Nothing would ever stop her from reaching her goals. Greg proudly shared so many stories of their travels all over the world.
Betty loved to hike and Greg said he never could keep up with her. Greg is tall and robust while Betty is a little over five feet tall and petite. Greg would laugh while sharing stories about Betty. The family all have a great sense of humor and laugh easily. A few tears were shed, though, when talking about how Betty is today.
Betty doesn’t talk and often does not even recognize her family. She looks content and willingly goes along when staff slowly walk her to dining room for a meal. Likely it is a blessing for her not to remember all that she has lost. Her legacy will remain alive as long as Greg continues to brag and share Betty’s amazing life and stories.
THE HIKER
She loved to hike.
She’s trekked all over the world.
He bragged about her endurance.
How he never could keep up with her.
She hiked Mt. Kilimanjaro.
She hiked parts of Mt. Everest.
Nothing she did ever surprised him.
She was a trailblazer from the start.
He bragged about her intellect.
How she got a degree in Chemistry,
while other women her generation
were proud to be homemakers.
Seeing her now, one would be surprised.
Tiny, frail, confused, helpless.
Any resemblance of her adventurous spirit,
now buried way too deep inside.
He still sees an inspirational woman.
He sees her pioneering spirit.
He sees the woman he fell in love with
so many years ago.
The trailblazer;
the hiker.
Saturday, December 20, 2014
A MOTHER
“Diana” was diagnosed with uterine cancer three months ago on her forty-first birthday. Diana has been in the hospital for several days and initiated the hospice referral herself. Diana wants to be able to control everything. She has had so many losses due to her illness, that she, like any of us, wants to be able to keep control as much as she can.
The hospice nurse and I went out to the hospital to admit Diana to hospice. We met with Diana and her mother, “Shelly”. The nurse will make the arrangements for Diana to be discharged home this afternoon. The plan is for Shelly to move in and care for her daughter for the duration. Diana is single and has no children. Diana has two siblings and a three year old nephew. This is a small, but close family. Diana’s brother is also moving in to help out with his sister‘s care. Diana’s sister is eight months pregnant and is limited in what she is able to do.
Diana has a PhD in Sociology and handles her emotions intellectually. Shelly says that her daughter has always been very stoic and accepting of whatever comes her way. When I asked Diana how she is coping, she says she has such a good family and friend network that she is doing fine. She focuses on the tasks that are needed to be done.
Shelly, on the other hand, was appropriately tearful. While the nurse was attending to Diana, Shelly and I spoke at the foot of her daughter’s bed. Shelly was bragging on her daughter’s accomplishments which embarrassed her daughter. Diana does not like her mother talking about her as she said “Mom, take it outside in the hallway.”
Shelly then started to talk about how she would do anything to help her daughter, even die for her. Shelly and I talked about how this is somehow all out of order. No parent should ever have to attend a child’s funeral. Shelly was very open and honest with her emotions. She is angry at the doctors for not diagnosing her daughter sooner. She also feels so helpless as there is nothing she can do to save her daughter.
I listened to her and told her how normal all of her feelings were. So much of what she said, I could relate on one level, but then could not even imagine such pain. She then got tearful and I gave her a hug. She then crumbled into my arms and just sobbed. Shelly, too, needs a mother who can nurture her. No matter what age, any of us do need nurturing now and then.
Hopefully when Diana gets home tonight with her friends and family around, she, Shelly and all can get the support and care they all so need. I wish them well.
ADDENDUM: Diana died peacefully four days later with her family at the bedside.
A MOTHER
Her heart is breaking.
This is all too new; too fast.
A mother watching her child die.
I cannot even imagine.
She is my age; my generation.
Her daughter could as easily been mine.
Somehow it is all out of order.
“I would do anything for her.”
With so many obtrusive emotions,
it is hard to sort her feelings out.
Sorrow, anger, helplessness.
Nothing can take her pain away.
She needs to share her feelings,
but what words can she use?
Her daughter handles things so differently.
She is in a totally different space.
I listened to her anger.
I listened to her grief.
She cried while I held her.
Tenderness no words can replace.
She will be by her daughter’s side.
She will put her daughter’s needs first.
After all she is,
and forevermore
will always be
a perfect Mother.
The hospice nurse and I went out to the hospital to admit Diana to hospice. We met with Diana and her mother, “Shelly”. The nurse will make the arrangements for Diana to be discharged home this afternoon. The plan is for Shelly to move in and care for her daughter for the duration. Diana is single and has no children. Diana has two siblings and a three year old nephew. This is a small, but close family. Diana’s brother is also moving in to help out with his sister‘s care. Diana’s sister is eight months pregnant and is limited in what she is able to do.
Diana has a PhD in Sociology and handles her emotions intellectually. Shelly says that her daughter has always been very stoic and accepting of whatever comes her way. When I asked Diana how she is coping, she says she has such a good family and friend network that she is doing fine. She focuses on the tasks that are needed to be done.
Shelly, on the other hand, was appropriately tearful. While the nurse was attending to Diana, Shelly and I spoke at the foot of her daughter’s bed. Shelly was bragging on her daughter’s accomplishments which embarrassed her daughter. Diana does not like her mother talking about her as she said “Mom, take it outside in the hallway.”
Shelly then started to talk about how she would do anything to help her daughter, even die for her. Shelly and I talked about how this is somehow all out of order. No parent should ever have to attend a child’s funeral. Shelly was very open and honest with her emotions. She is angry at the doctors for not diagnosing her daughter sooner. She also feels so helpless as there is nothing she can do to save her daughter.
I listened to her and told her how normal all of her feelings were. So much of what she said, I could relate on one level, but then could not even imagine such pain. She then got tearful and I gave her a hug. She then crumbled into my arms and just sobbed. Shelly, too, needs a mother who can nurture her. No matter what age, any of us do need nurturing now and then.
Hopefully when Diana gets home tonight with her friends and family around, she, Shelly and all can get the support and care they all so need. I wish them well.
ADDENDUM: Diana died peacefully four days later with her family at the bedside.
A MOTHER
Her heart is breaking.
This is all too new; too fast.
A mother watching her child die.
I cannot even imagine.
She is my age; my generation.
Her daughter could as easily been mine.
Somehow it is all out of order.
“I would do anything for her.”
With so many obtrusive emotions,
it is hard to sort her feelings out.
Sorrow, anger, helplessness.
Nothing can take her pain away.
She needs to share her feelings,
but what words can she use?
Her daughter handles things so differently.
She is in a totally different space.
I listened to her anger.
I listened to her grief.
She cried while I held her.
Tenderness no words can replace.
She will be by her daughter’s side.
She will put her daughter’s needs first.
After all she is,
and forevermore
will always be
a perfect Mother.
Saturday, December 13, 2014
CAN'T AGREE
“Ingrid”, seventy-two, took a fall six days ago. She says she lost consciousness and fell flat on her face. The left side of her face is bruised from that fall. Ingrid has a history of lung, cardiac and kidney disease. Ingrid lives with “Edgar”, her husband of fifty-five years. The couple have five adult children; although only two live locally.
Due to Ingrid’s recent decline, the hospice nurse and I went out to admit Ingrid to hospice. Ingrid’s husband and two of her children, “Jim” and “Liz“, were at the bedside when we walked into her hospital room. The plan was to discharge Ingrid home today.
After we introduced ourselves, Edgar, Jim and Liz immediately started talking all at once, overpowering Ingrid. The three of them would interrupt each other and order each other around as to what to say or do.
One of the first questions I like to ask patients and families is about their understanding of why the doctor made a hospice referral. The doctor may have predicted a life span of six months or less, but often one can be selective to what they are ready to hear. There are times, when the doctor doesn’t even share why it is time for hospice to be involved. I don’t want to assume the family understands why.
I had directed that question to Ingrid. She was attempting to answer my question, but was struggling with the words. The family started to talk for her. Each one had a different answer as to why a referral was made. Finally Liz told her brother and father that I had asked Ingrid about what her thoughts were. Ingrid has been on oxygen since in the hospital, but hadn’t been prior. With her extensive lung disease, her fuzziness may be from lack of oxygen to her brain. The family did not have the patience to allow Ingrid to articulate in her own way.
Between the three of them, there was a lot of anxiety and impatience to get things done right now. One could feel the tension in the room, but also feel the love all three had for Ingrid. This frenzied behavior is normal for this family and somehow works for them. The one thing any of us miss most is our normal. Normal is what Ingrid needs. I just bet she can’t wait to get home to her “lively” normal.
CAN’T AGREE
The three of them were so vigilant.
Their concern directed only for her.
She’s been in the hospital for almost a week.
They just want to get her home.
The plan is to discharge her later today;
once the oxygen and bed get set up at home.
She’s been a bit fuzzy; not quite herself;
since she took that dramatic fall.
All three believe they know what’s best.
None of them think to simply ask her.
They interrupt each other constantly;
each determined in what she needs.
He gets anxious; his son says to calm down.
She starts to say something, but stops midway.
The three of them jump in all at once,
finishing up what she must mean.
They can’t agree on anything.
They all have their own ideas.
What she needs; what is best.
All three set in their own ways.
Between the bickering and the interruptions;
there is at least one thing
they can easily agree;
their love and devotion
to her.
Due to Ingrid’s recent decline, the hospice nurse and I went out to admit Ingrid to hospice. Ingrid’s husband and two of her children, “Jim” and “Liz“, were at the bedside when we walked into her hospital room. The plan was to discharge Ingrid home today.
After we introduced ourselves, Edgar, Jim and Liz immediately started talking all at once, overpowering Ingrid. The three of them would interrupt each other and order each other around as to what to say or do.
One of the first questions I like to ask patients and families is about their understanding of why the doctor made a hospice referral. The doctor may have predicted a life span of six months or less, but often one can be selective to what they are ready to hear. There are times, when the doctor doesn’t even share why it is time for hospice to be involved. I don’t want to assume the family understands why.
I had directed that question to Ingrid. She was attempting to answer my question, but was struggling with the words. The family started to talk for her. Each one had a different answer as to why a referral was made. Finally Liz told her brother and father that I had asked Ingrid about what her thoughts were. Ingrid has been on oxygen since in the hospital, but hadn’t been prior. With her extensive lung disease, her fuzziness may be from lack of oxygen to her brain. The family did not have the patience to allow Ingrid to articulate in her own way.
Between the three of them, there was a lot of anxiety and impatience to get things done right now. One could feel the tension in the room, but also feel the love all three had for Ingrid. This frenzied behavior is normal for this family and somehow works for them. The one thing any of us miss most is our normal. Normal is what Ingrid needs. I just bet she can’t wait to get home to her “lively” normal.
CAN’T AGREE
The three of them were so vigilant.
Their concern directed only for her.
She’s been in the hospital for almost a week.
They just want to get her home.
The plan is to discharge her later today;
once the oxygen and bed get set up at home.
She’s been a bit fuzzy; not quite herself;
since she took that dramatic fall.
All three believe they know what’s best.
None of them think to simply ask her.
They interrupt each other constantly;
each determined in what she needs.
He gets anxious; his son says to calm down.
She starts to say something, but stops midway.
The three of them jump in all at once,
finishing up what she must mean.
They can’t agree on anything.
They all have their own ideas.
What she needs; what is best.
All three set in their own ways.
Between the bickering and the interruptions;
there is at least one thing
they can easily agree;
their love and devotion
to her.
Saturday, December 6, 2014
MISERY
“Dylan”, fifty-six, suffers from tongue cancer. He had been doing well until two months ago when he started to decline. Dylan was admitted to a Skilled Nursing Facility shortly afterwards. He is now bedridden and requires assistance with all of his needs. He appears to understand, but his words are few.
Dylan is divorced and has two adult sons. Both of his boys live in North Africa and, fortunately, Dylan was able to visit them this past summer. Dylan has four siblings living locally, who are very devoted and supportive of him.
The hospice nurse and I went out to admit Dylan to our hospice program yesterday. Five weeks ago, Dylan was in the hospital when the doctors put in a trach for his breathing and a feeding tube for nutrition. Both procedures were urgent at the time. The family feels that Dylan likely just went along with the doctors. Looking back, the family feels that if Dylan had time to think about things, it likely is something he never would have opted for
Dylan is so thin, it is obvious that he is no longer processing the nutrition. The hospice nurse spoke with the family regarding the feeding tube and the family chose to stop all nutrition. The goal now is to keep Dylan comfortable for what little time he has left.
The family showed the nurse and I Dylan’s driver’s license photo. We saw a vital, robust man. Now Dylan is a shell of what he once was. The family said he had such a sense of humor and was always laughing. Now, he just lies there, not speaking, with his eyes tracking us.
I can’t get him off my mind. Why does someone have to suffer so? It would be a blessing for God to take him. There are things worse than death. In my opinion, this is one of them.
ADDENDUM: Dylan died four days later with his family at the bedside. They said it was peaceful. I pray the family has some comfort from that and that Dylan has finally found his eternal peace.
MISERY
I can’t stop thinking about him.
Lying there all alone.
So weak; so thin; not talking.
Why does he have to live this way?
His tongue is swollen from the cancer.
He can’t even close his own mouth.
It looks so uncomfortable and frustrating.
He lies there just existing.
He has a feeding tube and a trach.
Machines are extending his life.
He can’t tell us what he wants.
No one would choose to be this way.
The family has to make some tough choices.
Mixed emotions challenge them all.
They aren’t ready for him to die,
but will be relieved when his suffering is done.
If he could talk, what would he tell us?
I am sure most would say, “I’m done”.
I pray for God to take him soon.
Relieve him of this suffering; this misery.
Please God, take him home.
Dylan is divorced and has two adult sons. Both of his boys live in North Africa and, fortunately, Dylan was able to visit them this past summer. Dylan has four siblings living locally, who are very devoted and supportive of him.
The hospice nurse and I went out to admit Dylan to our hospice program yesterday. Five weeks ago, Dylan was in the hospital when the doctors put in a trach for his breathing and a feeding tube for nutrition. Both procedures were urgent at the time. The family feels that Dylan likely just went along with the doctors. Looking back, the family feels that if Dylan had time to think about things, it likely is something he never would have opted for
Dylan is so thin, it is obvious that he is no longer processing the nutrition. The hospice nurse spoke with the family regarding the feeding tube and the family chose to stop all nutrition. The goal now is to keep Dylan comfortable for what little time he has left.
The family showed the nurse and I Dylan’s driver’s license photo. We saw a vital, robust man. Now Dylan is a shell of what he once was. The family said he had such a sense of humor and was always laughing. Now, he just lies there, not speaking, with his eyes tracking us.
I can’t get him off my mind. Why does someone have to suffer so? It would be a blessing for God to take him. There are things worse than death. In my opinion, this is one of them.
ADDENDUM: Dylan died four days later with his family at the bedside. They said it was peaceful. I pray the family has some comfort from that and that Dylan has finally found his eternal peace.
MISERY
I can’t stop thinking about him.
Lying there all alone.
So weak; so thin; not talking.
Why does he have to live this way?
His tongue is swollen from the cancer.
He can’t even close his own mouth.
It looks so uncomfortable and frustrating.
He lies there just existing.
He has a feeding tube and a trach.
Machines are extending his life.
He can’t tell us what he wants.
No one would choose to be this way.
The family has to make some tough choices.
Mixed emotions challenge them all.
They aren’t ready for him to die,
but will be relieved when his suffering is done.
If he could talk, what would he tell us?
I am sure most would say, “I’m done”.
I pray for God to take him soon.
Relieve him of this suffering; this misery.
Please God, take him home.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)