Back when I was driving all over creation seeing patients in 4 counties, I found myself one day seeing a lovely lady in a small NE Oklahoma rural community. Her name was Mary Catherine and she was living in a storybook looking home! It had white clapboard siding with pinkish red shutters and a porch swing on the west side of the porch. There were flowers lining the stepping stone walkway to the antique front door. It had an oval beveled glass front and was painted just a shade lighter than the shutters. A late spring breeze carried the scent of peonies to my senses and made me smile all over. Visions of my Grandma's flowerbed jumped forefront to my thoughts. Then I heard her, "Come on in, door's unlatched."
Oh! The inside was as charming as the outside. There was flowered wallpaper from the '40's on the walls and there was a china cabinet with pink, cranberry, and green Depression era glass inside. There she sat in her overstuffed winged back rocking chair that also had a flowered print on it. She had just the prettiest white hair all pulled back and up, and she was wearing a flannel rose-colored gown with a ruffled apron with maroon rickrack on the top of it. She was holding her TV remote in the pocket on one side and the panic alert button for help, if she needed it, in the other pocket.
"Well, come on in, nurse. As you can see, I'm surrounded with all these dishes and antiques, and I'm sorting out what goes to which child and grandchild and niece or nephew. I've got a friend who is going to come over after a bit and put them in their designated boxes. You'd think that this would depress me terribly bad, but it has been a good morning. I'm enjoying looking over each piece and remembering when I got it and what was going on when me and Henry bought it. Bless him. He's been gone nearly twenty-five years now.
"I know you have come to check my vital signs and see how my ticker's doing. But, before you do anything else, I want you to sit on that embroidered footstool, not that leather one, it's wobbly, and let me inform you about how the cow eats the cabbage 'round here!
"I've been up there in that big city hospital for several days and about a month ago before that. You see my heart is wearing out. I've died twice and they shocked the snot out of me and brought me back both times! I've told them as plain as I could before I left that ICU room that they're not to do that anymore. I was already having the blessing of seeing Heaven and feeling the peace and love that we don't have here on this side, when BAM! I'm back in my old clay body and feeling all that pain and bother. Lordy!
I'm too old and feeble for a heart transplant. I don't want any surgery or another pacemaker or another valve replacement. I want to go on. It'll happen again and, when it does, if anyone does that Code Blue stuff on me and puts me on that dang breathing machine, I'll haunt them when I do get to die!"
I listened and wrote everything down. My supervisor had already told me that she didn't want any CPR but that she was home to die. But, this dear woman needed to spit that information out and make sure that everyone knew she meant business.
Her heart was very weak but her spirit was strong, and she worked hard on those belongings. A friend and a neighbor and a niece came to help her label all of it and box it up before I left while she was dozing quietly in her chair.
I was scheduled to visit again the next day and help her with some laundry and some skin care as well as the assessment of her overall status. I'd planned to go out and cut some of those flowers and put them in one of her antique Roseville pottery vases for her chair side table. But as I was making out my schedule for the day we received a call from her family. The neighbor found her that morning in her chair. She was gone.
I couldn't help but smile. She and Henry were together again.
How would you spend your last hours?
This is a chapter from my book, Transitions: A Nurse's Education about Life and Death
Available on my website: www.ladyhawkpublishing.com and Amazon
Monday, July 14, 2014
Monday, July 7, 2014
ALL THAT MATTERED
When I drove into his long, winding, pearl chat driveway, the multicolored crepe myrtles, hollyhock and purple flocks were waving in the early July heat and breeze. His ducks and geese were dunking for food below the pond's surface.
I found myself wondering what kind of mood Tom would be in that day. I took a deep breath and began mustering up courage to welcome his crankiness or his cleverness, whatever he would pitch my way.
He'd admitted to me out loud, more than once, that he was not happy about 'checking out' yet. "I need more time to come to grips with this!" he said on my previous visit.
I prayed while gathering my supplies to do wound care on the chest lesion from lung cancer that refused to stay in his chest. When I knocked on the back screen door that entered into their utility room, he yelled out, "Why do you always knock? Come on in! And let Tom Cat out in the process."
His wife passed away the year before so he had been living alone until he came home from the hospital. His sister from Kansas came to stay with him until he regained some strength, or not. I'm not too sure either one of them was tremendously fond of the other, but for now, it was working out to help keep him home.
Lou Ellen was in the kitchen making coffee and biscuits and gravy in case this is a day he'll eat a bite. She nodded and offered coffee and returned to her sanctuary in the tiny kitchen.
I approached his bed with caution. "Good Morning, Tom! How's that new pain med working for you?"
"It's actually helping and I appreciate it. Taking the edge off that pain makes me less cranky...I haven't yelled at Lou Ellie (his name for her) in over an hour."
"Set your stuff down on that recliner," he continued, "and don't rush me this morning. I'm enjoying watching those geese and ducks splash around in the pond. Did you happen to see them on your way in?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did," I answered while pulling up a chair where we could hear each other better.
The 'air' is different today, and I can tell we've entered some new territory.
He eyeballs me carefully, "What are you doing here?' he asked with all sincerity.
"What do you mean? Like my cleaning and redressing your chest wound? Or checking on your pain control? Or..."
"No! I mean what are you doing here, in life, on Earth, with your time. And your space."
"Hold that thought! I changed my mind. I'm getting that cup of coffee from Lou Ellen. And while I'm fetching it, keep talking to me. What are you really asking me?" I said while retrieving the coffee from his sister who was around the corner listening; she had already poured me a cup!
"Well, I've been trying to do a little introspection about how I've taken up space here, how good a steward I've been with my time allotment, my talents or skills, my money, and such," he answered as he scratched his chin.
"I'm dying and I'm sorry I haven't done a better job. I let bitterness set in when my wife died last year and I've wasted good light in a day. I could have been helping out at the church she loved so much, or given some money to that schoolhouse where she volunteered, or to that dang animal shelter where she carried in dog food and the like. That's where we got ole' Tom Cat.
"And you see this all the time, and I was wondering if all you do is work. When I was your age, I thought that was all that mattered: make a dollar, save a dollar. Okay, that's enough talking. Let's get this bandage off."
And that was all he said about that ever again. That was in the 1980's. I didn't fully appreciate it then.
I was too busy working!
I found myself wondering what kind of mood Tom would be in that day. I took a deep breath and began mustering up courage to welcome his crankiness or his cleverness, whatever he would pitch my way.
He'd admitted to me out loud, more than once, that he was not happy about 'checking out' yet. "I need more time to come to grips with this!" he said on my previous visit.
I prayed while gathering my supplies to do wound care on the chest lesion from lung cancer that refused to stay in his chest. When I knocked on the back screen door that entered into their utility room, he yelled out, "Why do you always knock? Come on in! And let Tom Cat out in the process."
His wife passed away the year before so he had been living alone until he came home from the hospital. His sister from Kansas came to stay with him until he regained some strength, or not. I'm not too sure either one of them was tremendously fond of the other, but for now, it was working out to help keep him home.
Lou Ellen was in the kitchen making coffee and biscuits and gravy in case this is a day he'll eat a bite. She nodded and offered coffee and returned to her sanctuary in the tiny kitchen.
I approached his bed with caution. "Good Morning, Tom! How's that new pain med working for you?"
"It's actually helping and I appreciate it. Taking the edge off that pain makes me less cranky...I haven't yelled at Lou Ellie (his name for her) in over an hour."
"Set your stuff down on that recliner," he continued, "and don't rush me this morning. I'm enjoying watching those geese and ducks splash around in the pond. Did you happen to see them on your way in?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did," I answered while pulling up a chair where we could hear each other better.
The 'air' is different today, and I can tell we've entered some new territory.
He eyeballs me carefully, "What are you doing here?' he asked with all sincerity.
"What do you mean? Like my cleaning and redressing your chest wound? Or checking on your pain control? Or..."
"No! I mean what are you doing here, in life, on Earth, with your time. And your space."
"Hold that thought! I changed my mind. I'm getting that cup of coffee from Lou Ellen. And while I'm fetching it, keep talking to me. What are you really asking me?" I said while retrieving the coffee from his sister who was around the corner listening; she had already poured me a cup!
"Well, I've been trying to do a little introspection about how I've taken up space here, how good a steward I've been with my time allotment, my talents or skills, my money, and such," he answered as he scratched his chin.
"I'm dying and I'm sorry I haven't done a better job. I let bitterness set in when my wife died last year and I've wasted good light in a day. I could have been helping out at the church she loved so much, or given some money to that schoolhouse where she volunteered, or to that dang animal shelter where she carried in dog food and the like. That's where we got ole' Tom Cat.
"And you see this all the time, and I was wondering if all you do is work. When I was your age, I thought that was all that mattered: make a dollar, save a dollar. Okay, that's enough talking. Let's get this bandage off."
And that was all he said about that ever again. That was in the 1980's. I didn't fully appreciate it then.
I was too busy working!
Thursday, July 3, 2014
FIRECRACKERS, FRITO CHILI PIE AND FUN!! OH MY!!
I grew up with my three siblings and parents in a small northeast Oklahoma town. We thought the 4th of July was the hit of the summer. We didn't spend a great deal of money on fireworks but we did get to buy sparklers, firecrackers, smoke bombs and the like.
Daddy would head out to the firecracker stand and eye the products. He has always been good about getting the most for your money. We lined up close by and peered over the counter to look at the bounty before us, seeming like a candy store or looking in a department store window in December. It would make us little kids shudder with pure joy.
We had strict rules to follow: don't get near the hay meadow, don't burn yourself, don't hold onto the firecracker too long, don't chase the dogs with them and don't light the sparklers on the cook stove in the house. Well, we followed most of them. One 4th we sneaked into the house when Mama and Daddy were busy with something at the barn. We were hoping to light our sparklers early without any hint of us being near Mama's cook stove. We did it! And we burned little holes right into the linoleum floor! Never did that again!!
The dogs would hightail it under the car or the pickup or try to get under the beds in the house. But we were having the time of our summer lives. Mama would fix us a special treat. She'd cut open little packages of Fritos and put chili on top with shredded cheese. We'd get to have little bottles of soda pop and usually we had homemade ice cream. We took turns turning the handle with huge anticipation of the cold dessert taking shape.
Daddy would load up the family as dark approached and head to a smaller community by the lake and we would line ourselves up and down the rock wall awaiting the Big fireworks display! There was a carnival going on at the same time and we might ride a few rides, but our main objective was to see the magic in the sky!!
When we got home we were often too tired to light anymore fireworks or twirl a sparkler in the dark making circles and trying to write our names. But we always believed there would be next year.
What kind of memories are you making this 4th? Enjoy!! My patients taught me that it's all, every day, a chance to make good memories with those you love. Hug the babies, pull out the flags, and tell stories about your own childhood July 4th picnics and swimming! Tell the little ones what the 4th of July stands for in the United States. And if they are old enough tell them what religious liberty means to you. And for Pete's sake don't light your sparklers in the kitchen! AND wear your life jackets and be safe!!
Daddy would head out to the firecracker stand and eye the products. He has always been good about getting the most for your money. We lined up close by and peered over the counter to look at the bounty before us, seeming like a candy store or looking in a department store window in December. It would make us little kids shudder with pure joy.
We had strict rules to follow: don't get near the hay meadow, don't burn yourself, don't hold onto the firecracker too long, don't chase the dogs with them and don't light the sparklers on the cook stove in the house. Well, we followed most of them. One 4th we sneaked into the house when Mama and Daddy were busy with something at the barn. We were hoping to light our sparklers early without any hint of us being near Mama's cook stove. We did it! And we burned little holes right into the linoleum floor! Never did that again!!
The dogs would hightail it under the car or the pickup or try to get under the beds in the house. But we were having the time of our summer lives. Mama would fix us a special treat. She'd cut open little packages of Fritos and put chili on top with shredded cheese. We'd get to have little bottles of soda pop and usually we had homemade ice cream. We took turns turning the handle with huge anticipation of the cold dessert taking shape.
Daddy would load up the family as dark approached and head to a smaller community by the lake and we would line ourselves up and down the rock wall awaiting the Big fireworks display! There was a carnival going on at the same time and we might ride a few rides, but our main objective was to see the magic in the sky!!
When we got home we were often too tired to light anymore fireworks or twirl a sparkler in the dark making circles and trying to write our names. But we always believed there would be next year.
What kind of memories are you making this 4th? Enjoy!! My patients taught me that it's all, every day, a chance to make good memories with those you love. Hug the babies, pull out the flags, and tell stories about your own childhood July 4th picnics and swimming! Tell the little ones what the 4th of July stands for in the United States. And if they are old enough tell them what religious liberty means to you. And for Pete's sake don't light your sparklers in the kitchen! AND wear your life jackets and be safe!!
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