I am reminded over and over why I love working in hospice. The absolute best part are the many people I meet from all walks of life. Today, I share a couple of stories of some of the patients and families I meet.
An elderly man came in last week as he was experiencing pain. He was also very confused and frustrated that he did not know where he was or how he got there. We talked for awhile and then he said, "I just don't know how I am going to earn my keep here. I used to be an electrician - do you think there is any electrical work that needs to be done?" I assured him that he could just rest while he was there but he was disappointed that he couldn't help out. He died just a day later.
A "young" woman, in her 60's, has been mostly unresponsive and has been declining. Her family was gathering, flying from all around the US to get there and yesterday, they were all there. "Mom" opened her eyes and talked with them for 20 minutes about how she was ready to let go and she was glad to see them all. She returned to her nonresponsive state of health and later died. But what a gift for the family as they all gathered to honor her.
Life is somewhat simple here in FL. I don't have meetings, or work I take home, or actually very many responsibilities. Work doesn't feel like work, I live in 990 sf apartment, I spend time encouraging the people I work with...as a chaplain, I get to accept people wherever they are, in whatever they believe, and just be with them as they review their life and get ready to say goodbye.
So life is good, but I truly miss friends and family. My 8 yr old nephew, Trent, won a basketball shootout yesterday - I wish I could have seen him in his winning.
I miss face-to-face conversations and some of my favorite watering holes and shopping experiences. But what's there not to like about the beautiful weather and magnificent sunsets in FL in November? love to all.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Thursday, November 4, 2010
It has been awhile since my last post. I talk all day so by the time I get home, I do not have so many words. But certainly, much happens. A few hospice stories, recently I had a patient that was with us for a couple of weeks. She was such fun to talk with as she had a great sense of humor. Each time I would visit, she would want me to pray with her and so I would. One morning I went to her room and she had really declined so I just thought I would say a prayer. As I began, her eyes opened and she said, "Did I die?" She did die the next day but what a gift she was.
Another patient kept shaking hands with the dead. She was very imminent but was still really verbal. She told me that she could see the light and that she needed sunglasses. And she mentioned that the people on her right, she knew, and the people on her left - well, she did not know any of them! Her niece was there watching this with me and fortunately, the niece was very comfortable with what she called, her explanation of the afterlife. Of course, I do not know how that works any more than anyone else, but it is amazing to see these kinds of things over and over. You really cannot work in hospice without believing that there is something sacred at the end of our earthly life.
I got a couple of letters recently from a friend that I adore. He is trying to bring back the art of letter writing - I thought that was a good idea. The ease of the internet makes notes and blogs and facebook seem like the best way to communicate, but I think letter writing is a great old tradition. Perhaps I'll start writing letters. Well, perhaps I'll start to think that it would be a fun idea.
We do Thoughts for the Day each day at the hospice house for the staff. They cover a broad range of thoughts but today's was from my favorite Disney character, Winnie the Pooh.
Another patient kept shaking hands with the dead. She was very imminent but was still really verbal. She told me that she could see the light and that she needed sunglasses. And she mentioned that the people on her right, she knew, and the people on her left - well, she did not know any of them! Her niece was there watching this with me and fortunately, the niece was very comfortable with what she called, her explanation of the afterlife. Of course, I do not know how that works any more than anyone else, but it is amazing to see these kinds of things over and over. You really cannot work in hospice without believing that there is something sacred at the end of our earthly life.
I got a couple of letters recently from a friend that I adore. He is trying to bring back the art of letter writing - I thought that was a good idea. The ease of the internet makes notes and blogs and facebook seem like the best way to communicate, but I think letter writing is a great old tradition. Perhaps I'll start writing letters. Well, perhaps I'll start to think that it would be a fun idea.
We do Thoughts for the Day each day at the hospice house for the staff. They cover a broad range of thoughts but today's was from my favorite Disney character, Winnie the Pooh.
"If the person you are talking to doesn’t appear to be listening, be patient. It may simply be that he has a small piece of fluff in his ear.”A more scholarly version of that message might be from an Ancient Greek Philosopher,
"be kind, for everyone is fighting a difficult battle."Either way, it is a message to remember.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
October 12
A couple of stories for you...
I was called to an imminent death recently of a 97 year old. His brother is 94 and is also in hospice care. Their wives died 5 years ago, 2 months apart. I had met this man just a week before and he told me some wonderful stories of living like a hobo when he was a teenager. He and others would jump on trains and ride around the country, sleep in barns, work a day here and there. He was a business owner most of his life and shortly before he died, he had tried his hand at flower arranging. And he was a day trader! He lived his life abundantly. His family knew when he died that he had given life all that he could. That made letting him go a little easier for them.
I met with a patient that was mostly Buddhist, but loves much about other eastern religions. I read her Rumi poetry and imagined with her what it will be like when she dies. I remember as a kid, sitting out on the street curb, under a light pole with a friend and talking about what heaven might be like. It seemed so distant then. I don't remember exactly but I am sure we imagined lots of beauty - flowers and colors and people that looked just like us. I would imagine that I have always thought heaven would have books and ice cream. My mom would have thought that it could only be heaven if it included sewing machines and lots and lots of fabric. I still don't know what heaven will look like but I can only imagine that it will be filled with children of God. And many, that do not look like me, act like me, believe like me, but love others like me.
I heard a great fable today - short version...a kid loved to draw and kept drawing people in the horizontal position, then people with broken body parts, and people that were bleeding. The parents were worried and took the young boy to a counselor. During therapy, the counselor had the boy draw more pictures and he drew the same kind of pictures. The counselor asked him what was he thinking about when he drew these pictures. The boy said, about what I am going to do when I grow up. Be a doctor and how I can help people. Sometimes, what we see is not part of the story.
And by the way, I am missing the autumn in Indiana. My favorite season! October in Florida is not quite the same but the humidity is low and the temperatures are dropping a little. So life is good!
I was called to an imminent death recently of a 97 year old. His brother is 94 and is also in hospice care. Their wives died 5 years ago, 2 months apart. I had met this man just a week before and he told me some wonderful stories of living like a hobo when he was a teenager. He and others would jump on trains and ride around the country, sleep in barns, work a day here and there. He was a business owner most of his life and shortly before he died, he had tried his hand at flower arranging. And he was a day trader! He lived his life abundantly. His family knew when he died that he had given life all that he could. That made letting him go a little easier for them.
I met with a patient that was mostly Buddhist, but loves much about other eastern religions. I read her Rumi poetry and imagined with her what it will be like when she dies. I remember as a kid, sitting out on the street curb, under a light pole with a friend and talking about what heaven might be like. It seemed so distant then. I don't remember exactly but I am sure we imagined lots of beauty - flowers and colors and people that looked just like us. I would imagine that I have always thought heaven would have books and ice cream. My mom would have thought that it could only be heaven if it included sewing machines and lots and lots of fabric. I still don't know what heaven will look like but I can only imagine that it will be filled with children of God. And many, that do not look like me, act like me, believe like me, but love others like me.
I heard a great fable today - short version...a kid loved to draw and kept drawing people in the horizontal position, then people with broken body parts, and people that were bleeding. The parents were worried and took the young boy to a counselor. During therapy, the counselor had the boy draw more pictures and he drew the same kind of pictures. The counselor asked him what was he thinking about when he drew these pictures. The boy said, about what I am going to do when I grow up. Be a doctor and how I can help people. Sometimes, what we see is not part of the story.
And by the way, I am missing the autumn in Indiana. My favorite season! October in Florida is not quite the same but the humidity is low and the temperatures are dropping a little. So life is good!
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Chemotherapy
I recently wrote a paper about chemotherapy and what it can teach us about caregiving. I cut and pasted some so it may sound a bit choppy but if you know someone that is going through Chemo, this may give you a new insight.
There are odds usually associated with success rates of chemotherapy, but they are only odds. They are not sure outcomes. No matter what the odds, someone that has cancer probably does not feel that lucky.
Throughout chemotherapy, one lives in conflict. On the one hand, there must be some kind of medial hope or the procedures and drugs would not be an option. On the other hand, the loved ones and the medical staff that rely simply on the numbers forget about the reality for the patient. Those that are healthy understand hope in a different way. It is easier to hope for something that is like a cherry on top. I hope I get a promotion; I hope this cold goes away by the weekend; I hope my kids have fun at the beach. For a patient going through chemo, hope is not just a nice thing to have. Hope is what you hang on to when you are so sick that life does not matter much.
Patients should know the truth of their illness and be able to feel all the emotions that legitimately come with vomit, losing hair, suppositories, pain and exhaustion. When a patient can see the truth and path before them, they can know that they will be afraid and it is okay; and the journey ahead will be difficult. As pastoral caregivers, we need to be able to sit with patients in the fear and anger and sadness without trying to move them beyond that point. Perhaps the patient and the pastoral caregiver need to remember Psalm 46. “Be still, and know that I am God.” In the fear, God is there. In the anger, God is there, and in the sadness, God is there. Let us just sit with that.
There is always fear that sickness will disrupt chemotherapy schedules. Wow. There is conflict in that statement. Chemotherapy makes a patient sick, but the sickness of it lets the patient hang on to a little bit of hope. Being sick in a way that you cannot continue the treatments would make one afraid that the hope is leaving. It seems like on the other end of the spectrum, when the chemotherapy is over, a patient would find fear waiting for him or her.
Hospitals separate physical treatment from emotional care. That is the space that pastoral caregivers need to fill. Feelings and loved ones can be treated as outsiders. The patient and everyone else receive the message that it is all about the illness. The patient is diminished to cancer. Relationships with loved ones keep each of us going. We build our lives around our love for others. When a loved one suffers, we all suffer. Healthcare personnel should acknowledge this, but as pastoral caregivers, this connection is essential. We are not dealing with an illness. We are dealing with lives that are changing because someone is ill.
When the patient was healthy, it was easy to see them filled with gifts. When the illness comes, gifts do not go away. As chaplains, we should shine a light on their gifts and the value of their life. Stories we tell ourselves about what is happening to us are dangerous because they are powerful. So, as a chaplain, what story can I help someone create for themselves?
I am reminded of a boxer who goes into the ring to fight for a title or to be a champion. At that moment, the only thing that is important is the fight. Patients do not want to let illness be about one thing. If someone has cancer, they cannot neatly tie it with a bow and put it on the shelf when they are tired or angry or sad. Cancer is a part of their life and needs to be incorporated into life. Cancer may be disruptive but it does not define someone. They can only take what happens to them and continue to look for possibilities of how to live. There is a stigma of cancer, but it is often summed up well when it seems that the patient never stops thinking that cancer says something about their worth.
I want to always look for the light of God, and when I see it, let me announce it with joy and with a mirror in my hand, so all can see. It’s important for all people to tell their stories. As we actively listen to stories, we are recognizing the importance of the storyteller. Let us help people hear what gives their life meaning and to claim it and find ways to live it.
Although I don’t know the author, I love a quote I’ve heard before, “What do we live for if not to make the world less difficult for each other?” Sometimes the only thing that makes life easier is to know that we are not alone.
There are odds usually associated with success rates of chemotherapy, but they are only odds. They are not sure outcomes. No matter what the odds, someone that has cancer probably does not feel that lucky.
Throughout chemotherapy, one lives in conflict. On the one hand, there must be some kind of medial hope or the procedures and drugs would not be an option. On the other hand, the loved ones and the medical staff that rely simply on the numbers forget about the reality for the patient. Those that are healthy understand hope in a different way. It is easier to hope for something that is like a cherry on top. I hope I get a promotion; I hope this cold goes away by the weekend; I hope my kids have fun at the beach. For a patient going through chemo, hope is not just a nice thing to have. Hope is what you hang on to when you are so sick that life does not matter much.
Patients should know the truth of their illness and be able to feel all the emotions that legitimately come with vomit, losing hair, suppositories, pain and exhaustion. When a patient can see the truth and path before them, they can know that they will be afraid and it is okay; and the journey ahead will be difficult. As pastoral caregivers, we need to be able to sit with patients in the fear and anger and sadness without trying to move them beyond that point. Perhaps the patient and the pastoral caregiver need to remember Psalm 46. “Be still, and know that I am God.” In the fear, God is there. In the anger, God is there, and in the sadness, God is there. Let us just sit with that.
There is always fear that sickness will disrupt chemotherapy schedules. Wow. There is conflict in that statement. Chemotherapy makes a patient sick, but the sickness of it lets the patient hang on to a little bit of hope. Being sick in a way that you cannot continue the treatments would make one afraid that the hope is leaving. It seems like on the other end of the spectrum, when the chemotherapy is over, a patient would find fear waiting for him or her.
Hospitals separate physical treatment from emotional care. That is the space that pastoral caregivers need to fill. Feelings and loved ones can be treated as outsiders. The patient and everyone else receive the message that it is all about the illness. The patient is diminished to cancer. Relationships with loved ones keep each of us going. We build our lives around our love for others. When a loved one suffers, we all suffer. Healthcare personnel should acknowledge this, but as pastoral caregivers, this connection is essential. We are not dealing with an illness. We are dealing with lives that are changing because someone is ill.
When the patient was healthy, it was easy to see them filled with gifts. When the illness comes, gifts do not go away. As chaplains, we should shine a light on their gifts and the value of their life. Stories we tell ourselves about what is happening to us are dangerous because they are powerful. So, as a chaplain, what story can I help someone create for themselves?
I am reminded of a boxer who goes into the ring to fight for a title or to be a champion. At that moment, the only thing that is important is the fight. Patients do not want to let illness be about one thing. If someone has cancer, they cannot neatly tie it with a bow and put it on the shelf when they are tired or angry or sad. Cancer is a part of their life and needs to be incorporated into life. Cancer may be disruptive but it does not define someone. They can only take what happens to them and continue to look for possibilities of how to live. There is a stigma of cancer, but it is often summed up well when it seems that the patient never stops thinking that cancer says something about their worth.
I want to always look for the light of God, and when I see it, let me announce it with joy and with a mirror in my hand, so all can see. It’s important for all people to tell their stories. As we actively listen to stories, we are recognizing the importance of the storyteller. Let us help people hear what gives their life meaning and to claim it and find ways to live it.
Although I don’t know the author, I love a quote I’ve heard before, “What do we live for if not to make the world less difficult for each other?” Sometimes the only thing that makes life easier is to know that we are not alone.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Pictures and such
Still no picture of Preston the greyhound...but here are some pictures of the grounds and rooms around the hospice house. Everyday, fresh baked cookies!
Saturday, September 11, 2010
September 11
Today, we are all remembering where we were 9 years ago. I was in Salt Lake City, soon to be stuck in Salt Lake City. We were scheduled to hear the Mormon Tabernacle Choir that day and the show went on with a tribute to the United States. It was amazing. So I remember today what changed that day.
I'm been trying to figure out how to get a certain photograph here and I need help! So for now, I'll write the description. I wanted to introduce you to Preston, a retired greyhound racer who is now a volunteer at the hospice house. He is beautiful and patients and families love when he is in the house! I love when he is in the house! How can you not smile when you see the eyes of a loving dog?
We have lots of pet volunteers that come each week to say hello to families and patients. Actually, we have 160 volunteers that come for a lot of reasons. The volunteers offer reike treatments, massage, music, reading to the patients, video taping of patients telling stories, writing letters from dictation for patients, baking cookies, painting with kids, you name it....someone can do it.
This week I met with a family that had come from all around the country to be with mom. Mom is delightful but is very ill. The family members are all leaving on Sunday as they need to get back to their own homes and their own jobs. So we talked about how to say goodbye. Through lots of tears, they have decided that tonight they will all gather together, sing a couple of songs, one of the sons will sing a favorite hymn, each person will tell mom what she has meant to them and how she will be remembered. They wanted it to be like Thanksgiving when they would say something they were thankful for but this time, it is to honor and be grateful for mom. I am sure by now, the tears are coming again but what a special time for them.
I still say, we should have celebration of life ceremonies while people live. Why do we leave the best things we say about someone for when they die.
I watched some football today with Notre Dame and Michigan. Awww, football in the midwest! Of course, I fell asleep during the game - naps are universal I guess. I am making a mental note of the things I want to do when I go back to IN. "See friends" is top on the list. I miss our friends and time together. I miss the tincaps games, the beginning of fall, knowing how to get from point a to point b without a GPS and oh, so many things. But we are also enjoying the things of Florida - the views, the sunshine, our work, and we are getting used to our dinky apartment. You can't beat that.
I'm been trying to figure out how to get a certain photograph here and I need help! So for now, I'll write the description. I wanted to introduce you to Preston, a retired greyhound racer who is now a volunteer at the hospice house. He is beautiful and patients and families love when he is in the house! I love when he is in the house! How can you not smile when you see the eyes of a loving dog?
We have lots of pet volunteers that come each week to say hello to families and patients. Actually, we have 160 volunteers that come for a lot of reasons. The volunteers offer reike treatments, massage, music, reading to the patients, video taping of patients telling stories, writing letters from dictation for patients, baking cookies, painting with kids, you name it....someone can do it.
This week I met with a family that had come from all around the country to be with mom. Mom is delightful but is very ill. The family members are all leaving on Sunday as they need to get back to their own homes and their own jobs. So we talked about how to say goodbye. Through lots of tears, they have decided that tonight they will all gather together, sing a couple of songs, one of the sons will sing a favorite hymn, each person will tell mom what she has meant to them and how she will be remembered. They wanted it to be like Thanksgiving when they would say something they were thankful for but this time, it is to honor and be grateful for mom. I am sure by now, the tears are coming again but what a special time for them.
I still say, we should have celebration of life ceremonies while people live. Why do we leave the best things we say about someone for when they die.
I watched some football today with Notre Dame and Michigan. Awww, football in the midwest! Of course, I fell asleep during the game - naps are universal I guess. I am making a mental note of the things I want to do when I go back to IN. "See friends" is top on the list. I miss our friends and time together. I miss the tincaps games, the beginning of fall, knowing how to get from point a to point b without a GPS and oh, so many things. But we are also enjoying the things of Florida - the views, the sunshine, our work, and we are getting used to our dinky apartment. You can't beat that.
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