I always felt like being a chameleon was the way to go when entering someone's sacred sanctuary which I called their home. A quiet observer, waiting for an invite. Sometimes desperate eyes would lock onto me, no words, sometimes fear, anxiety, grief or a strong need to connect when emotions overwhelmed the person, as a woman told me once when her mother was dying, "you are my anchor through this storm". I needed to understand that that is just who I was to her, no more, no less. She needed me right now, not forever, maybe not even tomorrow and certainly not yesterday. This was my place, in the moment, a moment that never returns. I learned this when I blew a few of these moments by being tired, not emotionally available and thinking to myself, "oh lord, I don't want to open this can of worms, this could be a few hours of conversation, I'll bring it up tomorow". Only to find that their loved one had died in the night and that moment died with the death.
They say if you don't take care of yourself, you can't take care of anyone else and yet I watched countless Hospice nurses, Spiritual counselors, Social Workers, and Caregivers work selflessly for others. A social worker friend of mine who died from a heart attack gave her all to the families she worked with. She wasn't supposed to die before me as I had it all figured she was going to be there for me when I died. She stayed in the moment, she ran to the moment, she didn't leave the moment. One might argue that she sacrificed herself, didn't mind her boundaries, didn't take care of herself. Well yes, she smoked, took too many pills, didn't mind the Doctors about her health and when I would nag her about this she would laugh like the ancient old soul she was and say, "Rozanna, I am doing what I love and yeah I know I should eat different, exercise, quit smoking but my patients come first". She was the exception, she was the warm blanket of protection alot of raw people needed. She appeared to have all the time in the world for her families; she stayed with them late in the night if need be; she cleaned up their loved one if they could not; she was truly there mind, heart and body.
She taught me to not be afraid of the person dying or the act of dying. She taught me you can't get close enough but not that smothering, hugging, in their face close, but more that "with" kind of close.
Alot of times, families would feel it was safe if they knew I was coming to visit to take off to do some errands and one day when I went to visit a lady who was in her bedroom, I noticed her breathing was very shallow so I called the nurse who was just in and had left. The nurse said she saw it too and knew I would be there soon so she had left to go see another patient. She warned that the woman might die and asked if was I ok. I said, "yes". I pulled a chair up so the woman could see me and all of sudden she got a tremendous look of fear on her face and her eyes pleaded with me to help her. Well, my instinct told me to just climb in the bed and I spooned her from behind, my arm around her, she relaxed, shuddered and died. I literally felt her soul leave or I swear I did. It felt like a "whoosh" kind of wind that I was connected to and I was flabbergasted and in awe and it all felt very reverent, I talked to our Hospice Chaplain and asked him about this feeling and he validated me with a smile and told me to consider myself blessed and lucky to have experienced this with this woman. He counselled me on how important it was that I held her and how it helped her to transition,
So you see how honored, honoring and special it is to be a worker in this field especially if you can let go and get in the flow of the rivers (so to speak) of the people you are chosen to meet.
More to come.
2010 Rozanna Landavazo
What a high calling you have. You have brought back the day my Father died. Brother John was there, step-mother and hospice worker. I know Dad waited for me to arrive...late as usual. He had not blinked his eyes for hours. Although I had never seen anyone die, i knew he was close. I grabbed his hand and told him I was there. He squeezed my hand ever so slightly, his only movement of the day. And he died, and with his last breath a single tear appeared in his left eye. Such dry eyes, yet a tear. Don't understand that. And we cried. And the hospice worker cried and embraced with us all as though a part of the family. What I high calling you have Rozanna, thank you.
ReplyDeleteOkay, Rozanna, I just got goosebumps reading that. And, my hand went instinctively to my heart. Whoa. The whole thing was wonderful, but the part where you got in bed with the dying lady... I just love you to pieces for doing that. As you know, my mom's long term boyfriend just died. His daughter Roberta, just a couple years older than I, was alone with him when he passed. She reported being very fearful to be alone with him as he died. I just cannot imagine doing this as a job, but as Michael said above, it is a high calling. And, I treasure people like you who are able to get in the moment and BE there for people you don't even know. This post is just wonderful. I've said it so often, but you are a good writer. Very good. Thank you for sharing this.
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed reading your description of you holding a dying woman. This past week I was with an old friend who was struggling in a hospital bed, after being diagnosed with cancer everywhere. I said I wished there was something I could do, and he said I was doing it. I found that comforting, and was surprised that I came to comfort, and went away the one that was comforted.
ReplyDeleteWhen I heard he had passed I said his name. He said, "Rejoice, Frank, it's VERY good." We all take something from any interaction it seems, and old friends never die, they just go on ahead. Surprises await.
I sat recently with friend as he walked his last steps in this world. I said I wished I could do something for him, and almost silently he responded that I was doing something for him.
ReplyDeleteAfter he passed, I said his name, and he said to me; "Rejoice, Frank, it's great!"
I now have another friend in this other place that surely we travel toward each day.
I was touched by your description of you holding the lady as she passed. You will always be with her, and she will speak to you in the silence, if you but listen.
I enjoyed your posting.
Thank you Frank. Yes, I have learned that it is our presence that is the support. Many a person I have been with has shared with me what comfort they have when folks are just "there". One lady I worked with liked for me to nap with her. hehe. I would read out loud to her and then of course drift out......it was our secret.
ReplyDelete