Reflection

As I could have guessed, I was firmly set in my place last night. It always happens when I try to spend too much time feeling sorry for myself. The Universe (or God, whatever your belief system is), reminded me last night how miniscule my issues are compared to what is and what has been going on around me.

Last night we participated in our usual Sunday night ritual; watching a music DVD before going to bed. We have some wonderful concerts and it really does help us to wind up the weekend properly. We chose Sting last night. It was a new concert I picked up while out with Sis yesterday.

The venue couldn't have been more beautiful. He has a villa in Italy and decided to have the concert on his property with a small crowd of people. His stage was set up against a terra cotta wall decorated with vines. To the right and left were beautiful trees and foliage.

It started on a somber note. The date of this concert was September 11, 2001. Sting started out by saying that this was supposed to be a celebration, but because of events that had happened that day it became something else. He further said that he decided to not cancel the concert because that would give credence to what the terrorists had done. Instead, he wanted to be together with his friends so they could have a sense of community that evening.

He then dedicated the next song to those that had died. "Fragile". And then the next, "A Thousand Years". Read the lyrics if you have a chance. It was haunting, and it was apparent that Sting had a difficult time getting through the songs.

As I listened to those songs and what the lyrics represented that night, my problems and sadness seemed to dissapear and I went to bed with a completely different mindset. I needed to be smacked around a bit and reminded that giving energy and being stuck in negativity is not the right path. Instead, I should find positive ways to move past my feelings. Move past my issues.

And that is what I shall do.

My husband's father passed away about four hours ago. You may be wondering why I'm blogging about it and not sitting by my husband's side.

....I wish I could be by his side right now.

My husband left on a business trip this morning. He's in another state and can't get home until tomorrow morning. It's a small state and the airport is closed for the night. He missed the last flight out by 15 minutes. So, my sweet husband is in a strange city, left to deal with the passing of his dad all by himself.

I'm heartbroken for him. I want to hold him and comfort him but I can't. I literally ache for him right now. His dad was so special to him.

His dad was a special man to everyone that knew him. I can't begin to count the number of times I've heard people say "he's my hero" about this man. But his biggest fan was his son; my husband.

This has been a strange journey for me, a Hospice volunteer. I've never experienced death up close and personal, except through my Hospice volunteer experiences. My very special Aunt died suddenly in her sleep which is a whole different experience. And it was also an experience that I deal with a lot better. It's more difficult for me to see people I love in pain than to experience it myself.

My husband's dad didn't die suddenly; at least not until the end. In respect for my husband's privacy I won't go into detail, but being a Hospice volunteer did not give me any advantages. It was almost a disadvantage for me because I saw things I didn't want to see. I knew things I didn't want to know. I knew things my husband's family didn't want to know. On one hand I wanted to tell my husband what I felt was happening because I didn't want him to be sideswiped. On the other hand, I'm not a doctor and I am not an expert on dying. After all, I could have been wrong about what I saw. So I kept quiet and had to watch it all play out.

I am not sure that it was a blessing in disguise, but my father-in-law didn't realize how sick he was until he received a questionnaire in the mail from his medical center asking if he felt his doctor was dealing with his fatal illness properly (I'm paraphrasing.) My father-in-law was surprised to hear his illness described in this manner. He never really thought of fact that he had a fatal illness. This happened in December. I was appalled that he had to find out in this way.

The next time he went to the doctor, he was told, "Well, I assumed you knew". Then gave him a prognosis of 2-3 years. My father-in-law told us all that he 'knew' the doctor was just being cautious and told us all that he felt he had another 10 years left.

I knew better, but I gave him the respect and dignity of having his own reality.

Although my husband saw his dad just about every day after that, I only visited on weekends. About three weeks ago, I saw signs of end-stage. This is where I don't like being a Hospice volunteer. I saw things that nobody around me saw. I wrote an email the next day suggesting that they ask their doctor about getting a visiting nurse or something, "just to help out". I was given an emphatic "NO!". I beat myself up for days about that. It wasn't up to me to try to change their reality. Two days later they went to the doctor and the prognosis was moved up to "weeks, maybe months". Then the doctor suggested Hospice. They gave him the same answer as they gave me.

Ironically, this day was the same day I finished my grief and bereavement training with Hospice. I have to wonder about the timing in all of this. This journey I chose for myself would start right here in my own home.

We visited two weekends ago and I knew that he'd not see the end of February. This is really hard information to keep to oneself. Yet again, my suspicions were confirmed the following Monday when they went back to the doctor. His prognosis was moved up to "days, maybe weeks". The doctor insisted on Hospice, and they finally agreed.

It's almost as if once he found out that he was dying, he let go. He lost his will.

We saw him again on Saturday and I knew he'd be gone within days.

Again, I was right. Today was the day.

So, all this time, unless asked, I never shared what I knew with my husband or his father (or step-mother), but I did share with my husband's mother. I shared all of it with her. There were days that we wrote email to each other at least twice a day. It's been so wonderful to have her there to listen to me and assure me that I was doing the right things for my husband. I needed to hear that from someone who knows and loves my husband and who also still loves his father that I was taking care of him in the best way possible.

I also had *my* Hospice services (the organization I volunteer for) to help me with advice during a few sticky situations. I felt as if I was way over my head at times because I had to witness all of this going on around me and not say anything. They helped me by practicing conversations with me, they gave me ways that I could say things and not offend or change people's realities.

So, now that I've cleaned the house from top to bottom and I've thrown all of this out onto my blog, I feel helpless. I'm not *doing*.

And my husband is alone.

Thanks to FTS, I have to do a meme. Ok, I brought it all on myself. I've learned my lesson.

Song that sounds like happy feels:
What I Like About You, The Romantics

Earliest memory:
My parents listening to Barbra Streisand's Funny Girl album and Wichita Lineman by Glen Campbell

Last CD you bought:
Ben Taylor Band, Famous in the Barns

Reminds you of school:

:Elementary School:
I Just Can't Help Believing, BJ Thomas
Me And You And A Dog Named Boo, Lobo
American Pie, Don McLean

:High School:
Foreplay/Long Time, Boston
Benny and the Jets, Elton John
We Are the Champions, Queen

:College:
Night Fever, Bee Gees (me too, FTS!)
Last Dance, Donna Sommer
Y.M.C.A, Village People

Total music files on your PC:
I knew nobody'd believe me, so here:


Song for listening to repeatedly when depressed:
All By Myself, Eric Carmen

Song you love, band you hate:
Have You Ever Been In Love, Celine Dion

A favorite song from the past that took ages to track down:
I don't have one- but I do have a favorite show that took me ages to find the DVD- Lancelot Link, Secret Agent Chimp. I'm now the proud owner of all of the episodes, thank you very much.

Bought the album for one good song:
The soundtrack from "The Other Sister" for I'm Free - The Soup Dragons (Loved the WHOLE CD- it's happy music!)

Worst Song to Get Stuck in your Head:
Copa Cabana, Barry Manilow

Best song to dump a beer on someone’s head to, then storm out of the bar?
You'll Think of Me, Keith Urban

Who should do this next?
Stop the madness! I won't do it! But if anyone wants to do theirs in my comments, feel free!

It should be an interesting evening. Tonight hubby and I are getting together with some very dear long-time friends of mine. They stood by me and each provided a life line for me when I found out my ex-husband was having an affair. They walked through each step of my divorce with me. True friends.

My divorce was fifteen years ago. Fifteen years ago this month, actually.

BJ has never met them, because we don't get together much anymore. In that span of fifteen years, two of the three found their life partner's and are very happy, and I got married. One lost her husband and son, one recently lost his dad, and another is losing his dad.

A lot of life has happened in those fifteen years. One thing I know for certain, is that we will all do what we've always done. We will all still love each other the way we always have, and we will laugh. I know we will be doing a lot of laughing.

I'm so glad that I can count on some things to not ever change.

I haven't posted much about Hospice in my blog, but I think that will change soon. Prior to moving in with hubby, I was a patient volunteer. When I was doing home visits, it was my job to be with the patient while their caregiver went out and ran errands, visited friends, etc. I found that my most rewarding times were when the caregiver would just sit and talk with me and let me give them a shoulder or an ear. My patients were asleep 90% of the time, so I didn't have a whole lot of interaction with them besides physical care. I did have a lot of interaction with the families though.

I started in-patient care after having a couple of bad experiences (believe it or not, bad experiences didn't include someone dying in my presence). One was an 80 year old husband who was eager to, shall we say, replace his wife. I should have known something was up, when the social worker told me I was the second volunteer with this family, and then asked me to tell her if the husband ever became 'inappropriate'. The other was a patient who lit her oxygen tube on fire thinking it was a cigarette. Of course, it blew up in her face. I wasn't there at the time, but it scared me to think that this sort of thing might happen when I was alone with the patient. So, I went to in-patient care.

I had some wonderful experiences there and met some wonderful people. Generally, the patients were there because their family had to be somewhere for a few days. The patients I met there were actually more alert, so I was able to talk to them. Generally there were about four patients in the center at one times, so I was able to visit more than one patient in a day. One of my favorite things to do is to listen to people's stories. Especially the older generation. I'm fascinated by their experiences and the attitudes and thoughts of people decades older than me. I found it most difficult to talk to those that were my age, or possibly younger. It made me feel guilty that I'm not more careful with my body (diet and exercise... ). It also made me realize how fragile life is and reminded me that I'm not immortal.

People have asked me how I keep from crying when I'm talking to those that are dying. Especially when they're in a considerable amount of pain. It's very difficult at times, and honestly, I'm not always successful. But the trick for me is something I was told in one of my Hospice classes. Whenever you start to cry, you put OTHER people in a position of feeling that they need to comfort you. I'm the sort of person that when I give service to someone, I give myself 100%. Keeping that bit of information tucked away in the back of my head has been my little 'parlor' trick.

I had to give up Hospice for a couple of years after I moved in with BJ. For one, the Hospice center was 90 minutes away; and two, I was planning a wedding and living in a new city, etc. About six months ago, I got the itch again but had to wait for the training to start up. Even though I had been a volunteer for over two years, it was a new hospital and I had to learn it their way (very different training and attitudes in this new Hospice environment, by the way).

I finished my training in October, but had to wait until this month to get the training to do what I've wanted to do for quite a while. That's grief and bereavement. I'll be calling families who have lost someone and seeing how they are doing. After about six months of that, I'll be able to help facilitate the weekly group counseling sessions.

I feel that, if one believes in callings, this really is my calling. I've mentioned before that I'm one of those people that even strangers will tell their life stories to. I've been told that I have a very comforting presence and that after talking with me, people always feel lighter. It's an interesting feeling for me, and I can't really place my finger on it. But when I connect with someone, I CONNECT. The rest of my life completely dissapears and I am 100% with that person at that moment. Believe it or not, I also leave feeling lighter even if the discussion we've had is very heavy.

I think that's why I avoid 'emotional vampires'. There's something about my personality that can detect that sort of person almost immediately. Once I detect that in a person, I pull away immediately and permanently. Maybe I've been gifted with that sense so I'm able to reserve my energy for those that really need me.

Anyway, I'm in training every Monday this month then I get to start this new journey. I'm sure it sounds strange to read that someone is excited to talk to grieving people, but I really am. Just like I feel that I'm at the pinnacle of my career, I feel that this is the pinnacle of my life.