Reflection

Yesterday was my first day to make calls on behalf of Hospice. Before we're set free to make calls on our own, we have to make calls in front of the bereavement counselor. I was nervous even though I'd had hours of training on top of all of my Hospice experience. I knew I'd be fine when alone, but there's something about being listened to by a pro that scares me. It sort of reminded me of how nervous I used to get at my piano recitals.

I had twelve years of piano lessons and was used to playing in front of large crowds at county fairs, malls, restaurants, etc., but the piano recitals always got to me. I hated them because I knew I'd be playing in front of professionals.

The counselor handed me my first case file. I looked it over and read the history of the patient and looked for any notes written by the Hospice workers to see if there was anything that might be an issue. There were notes in the file about an emotionally unstable family member, and I brought that to the counselor's attention. She asked if I felt comfortable in making the call, or if I wanted to move on to something less complicated. I decided to go ahead and make the calls.

My first call was to the wife of the deceased. As I pushed the buttons on the phone, I felt very unsure of myself. What if I screw this up? What if I say something stupid? This woman has lost her husband, and I take that responsibility seriously.

She answered the phone and I told her my name and told her that I was a volunteer with [name of my Hospice org] Hospice. My first mission is to ask if she's received the mailings and ask if she had any questions about them. Then there is a list of things that I need to try to work into the conversation to get a feel for where she is in the grieving process and how she's doing in general. It needs to be conversational, so it doesn't sound like we're going through a checklist.

About two minutes into the conversation, I relaxed. This was a lovely sounding 84 year old woman who was so happy to hear from me. She shared with me how her life has been since the death of her husband and I listened. I suddenly quit being a Hospice volunteer, and resumed my normal personna as a listener. As I was listening to her talk, I'd look over at the counselor every now and again just to get confirmation that I was saying the right things. She kept mouthing "wow" as the conversation got longer and longer. I ended up talking to this wonderful lady for almost a half an hour and I could tell in the end that it was good for her to talk to someone. It was good for me too, because I felt like I was doing something important.

After I hung up the phone, the counselor told me that it was an excellent call and that I sounded very affirming and caring. She said that she was impressed that this lady shared so much with me. Normally, the calls are maybe 10 minutes long. Mine was a half an hour.

Next was the son. It was unclear whether I was calling a cell phone, work phone, or home phone, so I was nervous about that. I planned in my head what I'd say if it was work, because certainly I don't want to put someone in a position of talking about their grief while at work. Fortunately it was his home, and he was there. Again, my nervousness melted away as I talked to him and I just became me, and listened just as I would to anyone in my own life. This call was a bit more complicated, and it had to do with the unstable family member. He shared with me that this family member has been emotionally abusive to their mother and to him. He was also worried about his mother's physical safety. I was writing notes to the counselor as he was telling me this information so she could help me in what to say to him. We ended up writing notes back and forth while he talked to me and I would pass along information that the counselor wanted me to share with him. Eventually, I asked him if it would be OK for her to call him next week so she could help them with the situation. He was grateful for that offer. This call lasted 20 minutes.

Again, the counselor told me that this is not the norm. That I shouldn't expect that people will be talking to me and giving me all of this information. Apparently she doesn't know my reputation.

That is all the time I had alloted myself, because I was basically using my lunch hour (+) to do this last bit of my training. I will be going in on Saturdays to make the calls as soon as they can get the logistics worked out.

It felt good. Really good. I was so energized after this hour and felt once again that this is what I am supposed to be doing with my life. Whether it's as a grief volunteer or maybe later as a professional grief counselor, I know for certain that this is what I'm supposed to be doing.

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, The Hubs 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.

The Hubs 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.