I SO BELIEVE

I was asked to deliver some supplies to a patient’s home. When I arrived at the home, family was holding vigil. The patient was in a deep sleep and appeared comfortable. The patient’s niece, “Monica”, said that her aunt had not eaten or taken in any fluids for several days. The patient appeared imminent.

Monica didn’t know what to say to her aunt when she was asked, “What can I do?” That was when I gave her some advice about several things to share with her aunt. Monica and I spent about thirty minutes talking about end-of-life, coping and grieving. This is a very large family. They were all supportive to the patient and to each other. It was a beautiful thing to see.

I so believe that Monica did speak with her aunt right after I left as I found out later that the patient died thirty minutes after my departure. This is something I hear about quite frequently. I cannot prove it to be true at all, but I so believe it is. That is the beauty of the heart and the soul.


I SO BELIEVE 　

I went out to only deliver supplies.
I found family holding vigil.
She's no longer eating or drinking.
They all know her time is near.

She said her aunt has no fears
but wonders why it is taking so long.
Her Native American beliefs give her comfort.
          "She is so ready to go."

She asked her niece, "What can I do?"
Her niece didn't know what to say.
I offered, "Tell her to just let go.
She'll know when her time is right."

Surrounded by her family,
thirty minutes later, she was gone.
She clearly heard her niece's words.
She knew they would be okay.

This is a frequent occurrence.
Expressions of love at the bedside.
Patients are unconscious, or so it seems,
but then their spirit; their soul clearly hears.

They are reassured by their loved ones words.
They know it is their time to go.
The depths of love and comfort surround them.
I can’t prove it while another may deny it,
          but all of this
                   I so believe. 

FOUR O'CLOCK

2/18/69-7/26/18

My dear friend Amye died one week ago today. California has the End-of-life Option Act where terminally ill patients can choose to take medication to end their lives. There is a sequence of events that precede this last step; multiple visits to physicians, a psychiatrist and a pharmacist. Amye chose this option as she was so ready to go. From the initial cancer diagnosis eight months ago, Amye knew there was no cure. One thing I loved about Ayme was her ability to tell her truth. She was a straight shooter and had strong beliefs.

There are about 90 capsules that need to be opened and poured into a glass. Then you add water to dissolve the mixture. At four o’clock, without hesitation, Ayme drank the medication. Within five minutes she was in a deep sleep. For the next seven and a half hours, the only movement was Ayme’s breathing. She looked so peaceful and calm the entire time.

At her death, her face was so beautiful. She had a slight smile which let us all know she made it to the other side. I felt a sense of relief knowing that Ayme did things her way and was at total peace. For her, it doesn’t get any better than that. God Bless you dear Ayme. You will always be remembered in all of our hearts.


FOUR O'CLOCK

I was driving back to the office
when I noticed the clock said four.
It is exactly one week ago today,
at that exact time, when you willingly
          swallowed those pills.

Within five minutes you were in a deep sleep.
For the next seven hours you did not move at all.
The only action involved was your breathing.
Your face was so calm; you were in peace.

You always wanted to remain in control;
never wanting to be dependent.
We all were honored and truly blessed
to witness your final farewell.

I hope you felt the love surrounding you
as we quietly said our goodbyes.
Yes, we all were so sad and grieving,
but knew you were flying high.

I will miss your sarcastic humor.
You and I laughed all of the time.
Thank you for sharing your life with me;
          your greatest gift of all.

At four o'clock all of our lives did change.
It is something I will always remember.
But never forget, dear Amye,
your legacy will always
          and forever
                   continue on. 

ON THE OTHER SIDE

I have done hospice work for over fifteen years. I am educated and trained on counseling and supporting patients and families. I love being on this side of the desk. It is so amazingly rewarding.

Sadly my friend Amye was diagnosed with cancer eight months ago. She has been through treatment and surgery, even though from the initial diagnosis, the doctor told her there is no cure, only treatment. She is amazing as is teaching me so much about life and death by sharing her heart and soul with me.

I am now on the other side of the desk; on the other side of the fence. It is a profoundly challenging experience. Amye lives about forty-five minutes away from me. I visit her twice a week. Before each visit, I struggle as I want to say and do the right things. I want to fix it and make her cancer go away. I want to do all that I know cannot be done.

The beautiful part about all of this, is Amye's trust in me by her words. It is so humbling to me. In addition, I have an amazing support network of family, friends and co-workers. Small gestures are profound to me. I am surrounded by so much love, I am truly blessed.

Thank you Amye for your gifts to me. Thank you co-workers and friends for allowing me to be where I am; and thank you dear family for just loving me. In all this sadness, beauty abounds.


ON THE OTHER SIDE 　

I have worked hospice for years.
I have counseled, supported,
validated and normalized
strong emotions with compelling fears.

I am now on the other side.
My dear friend was admitted to hospice.
Her recent decline is sudden.
It may be just weeks.

I visit her every three days or so.
I don't know what to say.
I truly don't know what to do.
I want to fix it; to make it go away.

I sit with her and we talk.
She is baring her soul to me.
It is humbling, but beautiful.
It helps both of us to understand.

In her dying process,
she is showing me spirituality.
Life is all about love,
                but so is death.

Through her struggle, blessings thrive.
The support I am receiving is profound.
It melts my heart while bringing tears.
It helps me to easily embrace her more.

Throughout her struggle and decline,
there is an abundance of beauty; of love.
Throughout it all though, I can honestly say,
"I don't believe it will ever be effortless
        for anyone when
                  On the other side."

TEACHER

"Donald," fifty-five, was diagnosed with Muscular Dystrophy over twenty years ago. He had only been married one year when the doctor told him the news. His wife, "Shelly" has been a loving and devoted wife. Just seeing the two of them together, one sees the true love and devotion between them.

Donald was very soft spoken due to weakness. The disease is now attacking his organs making it hard to breathe for him. He is hardly eating much at all as also has difficulty swallowing. Shelly says that Donald has always had a positive, uplifting personality. Even through all of his health challenges, Donald continues to have his upbeat attitude, along with some sarcastic humor.

I instantly felt a strong connection to him. He was so full of peace, grace and love. It appeared he had all of the answers to life and accepted what each day brought as a gift. I would love to be able to meet up with Donald on a daily basis in order to journal his words and beliefs. He is, and will always be, an amazing teacher. Go in peace, Donald.


TEACHER　

The moment we walked in,
he instantly smiled and softly said, "Hi."
He was sitting in his electric wheelchair
with his hands helplessly by his side.

He was diagnosed twenty years ago,
never letting it get him down.
He lives his life the only way he knows;
loving his family with a positive attitude.

He has no fears about dying saying,
"Every day is a new day."
His biggest regard is his family though,
"Knowing they are living their lives".

He was so at peace.
His heart just glowed.
Gentleness, kindness, beauty.
He so gracefully had it all.

He was a fifth grade teacher,
and continues to teach today.
He taught me to cherish this moment
as that is all that we truly have.

His life is about love; about appreciation;
but the best gift of all will be his legacy.
He truly has a natural ability
          to be an amazing
                           Teacher. 

TOMATO FARMER

The hospice nurse and I admitted, "Will", ninety-seven to our hospice program today. Will had been hospitalized from a fall last month. He was now in a skilled nursing home as no longer able to return home. Will never married and has no family or children. Will has a very large extended group of true friends who love him as much as he loves them.

Will's closest friend, "Brenda", is very involved in his care and daily needs. The hospice nurse and I went out to meet with Will and Brenda. Will asked that we speak with Brenda without him as he was so weak. The three of us went to a meeting room at the facility to educate Brenda about hospice support and philosophy.

Brenda was about thirty years younger than Will, but lovingly shared that he always called her "Sweetheart". Brenda lived on the farm next to Will's Tomato Farm. After we were done with all of the paperwork, we went back to Will's room. I wanted to ask if he had any questions, fears or concerns. It was then when he shared how appreciative he has been of his life, "I've had a good life." I asked him about tomato farming. His face totally lit up and he eagerly shared his life as a tomato farmer.

Will's upbeat attitude helped him throughout his life in such a positive, loving way. "You are an inspiration, Will. I am so blessed to have met you!"


TOMATO FARMER　

He's never been married.
He has no kids.
No family to call his own.
He has lived ninety-seven
         autonomous years.

He is very friendly.
He loves to socialize.
He' s been a lifelong tomato farmer.
Living his passion; his dream.

He took a fall one month ago.
He was down and alone for half a day.
Not able to receive any help
until a friend stopped by just to say hi.

I asked him about farming tomatoes.
His eyes lit up while sharing his stories.
His passion and love was running his farm.
He was excited to disclose it all.

He's always been in charge of his life.
Now, that control is gone.
He is ready for it to be over,
although so thankful for the life he has had.

"I've had a good life.
I have no regrets.
It is now my time to go.
          I am not afraid.
                   I am done." 

BE A MAN

The hospice nurse and I went out to admit, "Charlie", eighty-eight years old, to our hospice program today. Charlie lives with his wife, "Glenda", with whom he has been married fifty-eight years. Charlie was his wife's caretaker as her health is poor.

One week ago, Charlie was doing fine and managing okay, when suddenly he was rushed to the hospital due to chest pain and having difficulty breathing. Charlie suffered a heart attack. It was then discovered that he had severe lung disease. Charlie refused any treatment and wanted to return home.

He was discharged home this morning. When the hospice nurse and I walked into Charlie's home, we met his wife and daughter, "Diana". Diana lives nearby and is very involved and supportive to her parents. Charlie was determined to continue to do his life like he has always done before, but with his weakness, he had a difficult time walking around.

Charlie shared that he did not want to live this way. He wants to be involved in his life and daily activities. He wants to take care of his wife. Charlie was very honest and straightforward. He saw life in a simple way. His primary focus was his definition of what it takes to be a man. Anything less than that was not an option for him.

He's had a history of a suicide attempt and hinted at that being an option for him today. His daughter has removed all the weapons from the home and has hired attendant care to help both of her parents. Family will closely monitor his medication in order to protect Charlie from attempting anything rash.

I respected Charlie for his honesty. He defined life pretty simply. His goal in life was to always, "Be a man".


BE A MAN

He was taught and raised,
with incredibly strong beliefs,
about what it takes
          to be a man.

He must always have the strength
to conceal any weakness,
while taking care of his family
no matter what life may bring.

He has beautifully taken care of her
for over the fifty years of their marriage.
Her health has declined; she needs his help.
He has always been there right by her side.

Now he, suddenly, needs some help.
His heart and lungs are wearing out.
His decline has been rapid and severe.
"I just don't want to live this way."

He was straightforward and honest,
while sharing his thoughts of suicide ideation.
He's had one unsuccessful suicide attempt years ago.
He feels that still is an option today.

I asked him about a verbal contract with me.
"Will you call our hospice if those thoughts again arise?"
He looked at me with a quiet smile,
"I can't make that contract with you?"

We hope to give him comfort and support.
It is a tough battle to fight as we are up against
someone knowing he will likely lose
in his overwhelming struggle to simply
          "Be a man." 

GO HOME

In addition to doing hospice admissions, we also will do "Informational Visits", whereby we inform patients and families about our services. I like doing these type of visits as it gives folks information about our services. So often, people perceive hospice to be all about death and dying. Yes, a patient has to be terminal, but I truly believe hospice is more about loving and living.

"John", seventy-one, had been admitted to the hospital after a fall in his home. John lives alone with his four dogs and tripped over one of the dogs. We were informed by the hospital staff that he was down twelve hours, but John stated to us that it was over twenty-four hours. I am sure it felt like an eternity to him while he was down.

John had been gruff and angry to the staff as he just wanted to be able to return home. John was now bedridden and weak. When he told me that he wanted to go home, I asked him, " How will you be able to manage that?" He had no answer.

My voice became soft while I spoke with John. He, too, had this soft, gentle voice. So much had happened to him during his life. He coped the best way he knew how. John was exposed to Agent Orange during the Vietnam War. John never wanted to have children as he did not want them to become exposed. That information, to me, truly showed his heart.

I held his hand while I thanked him for serving in the Marines. I validated his military experience. That meant a lot to him I know because as I left I added, "I hope our paths will cross again some day." He answered softly, "Me too".

I believe the best thing I did for him was to acknowledge his service to our country. He truly is a perfect example of, "All gave some. Some gave all". God Bless you John.


GO HOME　

He's lived alone for years.
Just he and his four dogs.
Marines; Vietnam; Agent Orange; PTSD.
Life has not been easy for him.

He was just told his cancer has returned.
He knows that it's probably not long.
There is no one around to help care for him.
He is aware, but still wants to stay at home.

He fell and was down twelve hours.
He says it felt like it was days.
His friend finally came and found him.
He can't walk; no longer able to return home.

He's resigned himself to go to a nursing home
wishing to regain his strength.
Although knowing likely it may not happen,
he still has hope to be able to get back home.

His life is flowing a route he would never have chosen.
So much is going wrong.
He remains soft spoken and gentle while sharing,
          "I just want to be able to
                   Go Home."