Memory Lane

These are the results of a confidential survey amongst class members. I think it happened in social studies- but I'm not sure. I vaguely remember this class exercise, and the thing I remember most is that I was really afraid to get the results. We had to give a 0-8 score to each category for each member in the class, and then write a little bit about them on a separate piece of paper (although not everyone did that). After everyone was done, the teacher gave us our ratings. It wasn't as bad as I'd anticipated.

Score-0	My Average Score	Score-8
Physical superman	4	Physical mouse
Extreme conservative	2.5	Extreme radical
Optimist	3	Pessimist
Dumbbell	6	Genius
Likes a large number of friends	3	Prefers a few close friends
Fantastically good looking	3	Extremely Ugly
Rational, intellectual, detached	6	Emotional, feeling subjective
Instant friendship with everyone	3	Impossible to get to know

Comments:

• The thing about you I like best your ability to be yourself
• You are fun to listen to in class. You have a lot of neat answers
• I like your carefree attitude and happy go lucky style
• I think that you feel good about yourself now. You’ve become more positive and confident in yourself.
• I think you have a cute nose
• You’re always so willing to add things to the group. You’re always so happy.
• I don’t know you very well, or too much about you, but you seem to be a nice person.
• Nice, sensitive, warm, loving, friendly
• You like yourself and are honest about it. I like you and also I think it is important for one to accept both faults and good points- and you do that.

Seems like I haven't changed much since the 9th grade (parents of 9th graders, keep that in mind!), especially the comment "you like yourself and are honest about it." heh. As an aside, I think the questions were a bit dicey. Really, should the teacher have used the words, "dumbell" and "extremely ugly". I doubt teachers in this era would be using those phrases!

Refining qualities I will cultivate:

• I will practice modesty by trying to dress by the dress code my parents set for me (even though I don't want to).
  ::older and wiser RG says:: always have to add my .02, eh?


• I will be an example of tolerance by trying to understand people's problems and put up with my brothers and sister.
  ::older and wiser RG says:: still working on the putting up with my brothers and sisters bit....

On 11/23/73 I gave a talk in church called "You get what you expect".
::older and wiser RG says:: wow- I wish I had a copy of that talk because it would be interesting to read right now. I *still* subscribe to that philosophy- and am surprised that I gave a talk about it when I was 13.

Qualities in my father I would like to emulate: I would like to have patience (sorry Dad, I didn't seem to get that lesson. I do have your great pruning skills though!)
Qualities in my mother I would like to emulate: I would like to have a good sense of humor (thanks Mom! I think I picked that one up!)

Answers to situations I might come across:

• If someone suggests, "oh, you don't have to call your mom. We won't be very late, " I will answer: Last time I did that, I got a one month restriction.


• If someone says to me, "Lie about it and you won't get into trouble, " I will say: I've tried it before and it didn't work.

::older and wiser RG says:: sounds like my parents were on to me.....

I haven't pulled out the contents from the envelopes in the book yet. More 13 year old angst to come.....

Last night, the bearded eye-roller and I were on the back porch talking about this and that, and the topic of high school years came up. He was talking about being in crew (that's rowing for those of you not 'in the know') and how it was really a good team sport for him, better than football even. He ended up going on to play college football, but his best memories are about crew.

Anyway, after it got dark, we came inside and looked at our yearbooks. In addition to my yearbooks, I pulled out a scrapbook of sorts, of mine. We didn't go through it because, well, it might have scared off my dear husband.

Why, you ask? Well, it's full of teen angst and crushes and whatnot. The content is so hilarious, that I thought I'd post bits and pieces of it over the weekend.

The book is called Treasures of Truth. It's something the girls in my church were given to record our thoughts and keep mementos from the time we're 12 through 18. Can you just imagine what is in there? Especially considering how weird I am now?

Yeah- you're right- SCARY stuff.

Enjoy going back in time to young angst-filled RisibleGirl over the next few posts.

Still cleaning out my files, and found this journal I was keeping about my Hospice experiences. I'd forgotten all about it. I guess it pays off to sort through files that you haven't looked at in years. Reading through this journal was very interesting to me, I hope you enjoy it (or get something from it at least), as well. Maybe I'll write a book about it someday. This piece certainly needs to be edited before it's book-worthy, but I don't have the time right now.

By the way, I'm currently taking time off from Hospice- have been since January- until I am able to have a decent work-life balance.

Diary of a Hospice Volunteer

Why did I decide to join Hospice? I think the main reason is because I wanted to do something important. I started looking at different volunteer opportunities, and nothing really jumped out at me- not until I read about Hospice. Something told me that this was the right thing for me. I don’t have a fear of death or illness, and assume that this lack of fear is unusual. Why not do something that most people wouldn’t have the emotional capacity to do?

I signed up for the training classes as soon as I made the decision. In all, I’d have to take 40 hours of Hospice training before I’d be able to start my journey. This training was broken up into four sessions, plus an orientation meeting.

The first and second sessions were held on a Friday and the following Saturday. We learned about the patient care program and the grief and bereavement program. At the end of these sessions we had to make a decision as to which path we wanted to follow. The core group is then broken up into two separate groups with separate training paths. At first I thought I’d never want to work in grief and bereavement, but it was truly a difficult decision at the end of the second day. I decided to go with my first decision. I decided to volunteer in patient care.

During these sessions we had an array of speakers. Some were family members of past recipients of the Hospice program; some were the volunteers and/or staff. We also participated in several exercises. One exercise in particular brought out some very deep emotions in me. It was called the “Personal Loss Exercise”. We were given several index cards and were told to write on each card things that are important to us. Of course, I had members of my family, friends, my home, and all things that most people would consider important. Then came the hard part of the exercise. The leader went through a scenario of someone who would enter the hospice program, first describing someone receiving her diagnosis. She then instructed us to throw away 2 of our cards. Then this person starts becoming more and more sick. Throw away 2 more cards as the story goes on. At one point the person next to you has to take two of your cards. That was frightening to me. Would she take away my sons? Suddenly this exercise became very real. Thankfully, I still had my sons, the last two cards. These cards represented my son Cameron, and my son Casey. The leader of the exercise then told us that we had to throw away one of those cards, and I felt as if my heart was in my throat. I had to decide which son I’d have to give up, and then eventually I had to give up the other. It was explained to us that as the patient approaches the end of their life and they become more and more ill, they have less energy for the things that they loved. They are forced to give up those things that are important and meaningful to them. The sense of loss that the patient goes through was illustrated very explicitly- and painfully.

4-13-01- Friday
The Hospice volunteer coordinator called me today. I have my first assignment! I feel a little bit guilty though because I’m scheduled to go out of town for a week on a business trip. I won’t be able to visit my family until I’m back from my trip. I pick up the envelope containing my referral form from the Hospice center and couldn’t wait to get home to read it. I anxiously opened up the envelope right there in the parking lot. There it was, on one neat letter sized piece of paper- all of the information I needed about my new patient. Information such as how mobile she is, what she’ll need assistance with, her emotional state, and (gulp) her prognosis. According to this sheet- she has metastasized bone cancer with only weeks to live. I started to worry. What if she passes on while I’m on my business trip? I decide that I’m being irrational and try to stop dwelling on it. Well, maybe I’ll only worry about it a little.

4-25 through 4-27-01
The social worker and I trade several voicemail messages. Eventually, she let’s me know that she doesn’t work on the weekend so I can just go ahead and make plans to visit the family on my own. I wonder if she knows that I’m fresh out of Hospice training? She must know. In any case, the show must go on. I decide to give the family a call tomorrow. After all, I won’t get home from work until 7pm. That’s probably too late to call, right? These procrastination skills of mine come in handy.

4-28-01- Saturday
I’m a little nervous about making the phone call to my Hospice family. This is my first family and I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to do. I picked up the phone and hung it up about three times before I finally decide that the phone call won’t make itself.

John Doe (the patient’s husband) answers the phone. I told him who I was, apologized for butchering his last name, and then relaxed a little. I was so nervous talking to him that I couldn’t catch my breath- so was breathing heavy. I hope he didn’t think I was making an obscene phone call.

We set up a time for Sunday (2pm), and he gave me directions to his house. I pretended to write them down, but after hanging up went to a map. He has a thick accent and I knew that I’d probably get lost if I relied on my interpretation of what he was saying. Knowing my sense of direction, I’ll get lost no matter what.


4-29-01- Sunday
I’m second-guessing everything I’m wearing today. I’m even second-guessing how I should wear my hair and makeup! If I fuss with my hair and make-up will they think that I have no substance? If I wear jeans, is that disrespectful? I opt for a no fuss ponytail and black slacks, t-shirt, jacket, and comfortable shoes.

Oh good, their house was easy to find. Should I park in the driveway (second-guessing myself again!)? No. I opt for the street. I don’t want to seem too forward. Who knows where I picked that little bit of etiquette. Next big decision- ring the doorbell or knock on the door. Thankfully I didn’t have to do either. The son (George Doe) opens the door in a tank top and sweats. Mental note; don’t worry about being too informal.

George Doe takes me to the living room and leads me to the sofa. I try to act cool, calm and collected, but internally I was worried that I’d either say the wrong thing or act inappropriately. John Doe was in the bedroom with Jane Doe, and then comes out to greet me. So far, so good. John Doe is friendly and welcoming. I look around the living room and surmise that Jane Doe was quite a homemaker. I see crocheted blankets, hand stitched pillows, many pieces of needlepoint artwork. This home was very warm and inviting, giving me the sense that Jane Doe is a warm and loving person.

Jane Doe calls for John Doe. He answers back, “I’m here my darling” and goes back to see to her needs. I’m so touched by this and think to myself, “Now this is what love is”. This exchange between the two of them continues throughout my visit there.

Eventually, John Doe takes me back to meet Jane Doe and shows me how to take care of her. Jane Doe seems to be uncomfortable with my presence and doesn’t say anything to me. Even though she understands that I’m with Hospice, I am still a stranger in her bedroom. How would I feel in her situation? All in a matter of a few minutes, I am overwhelmed with the sense of loss she must be feeling. The loss of privacy, the loss of independence- the loss of individuality. I hoped at that moment in time that she’ll soon trust me and see me as a friend.

Time to go. John Doe and I set up future appointments. I told him that I could drop by during the week so he could run errands if needed. We decided that I’d come over for a couple of hours next Wednesday after work. As I went to leave, John Doe grabbed my hand and thanked me very sincerely for coming. Then pulled me in for a kiss on the cheek. At the time I just figured he’s a friendly man and thought nothing more of it.

I continued throughout the day to think about the love that John Doe shows for his wife. I began to think about my life. Who will be there for me when I die? I know I’ll have my family- but will I have a husband that feels this way about me?

I think that this experience will be good for me. Maybe I need to really look at my need for independence and see why I feel this is so important to me. Maybe I’m a little too independent.


4-30-01- Monday
I got a call from the social worker, Monique. She told me that she was hoping to talk with me in person before I went over to John Doe and Jane Doe’s home. Apparently, there is nothing wrong with John Doe’ sex drive. Monique shared with me that she and the nurse have had some breast “drive-by’s” and narrowly missed lip locks. Oh great. I can see it now; being chased around the house by a 90 year old man. She shared some of the tricks (i.e. turn your head really fast when he goes in for the smooch).

5-2-01- Wednesday
Today I decided to not dwell too much on what I wear. Well, maybe I’ll dwell a little.

I arrive at John Doe and Jane Doe’s house. I’m a little anxious because I know that I’ll be left alone with Jane Doe this time. John Doe had told me that he just wanted me to stay in the living room while he was gone- but see to Jane Doe’s needs when she called to me. What if she dies while I’m sitting in her living room? I’ll never know. What a horrible thing for John Doe to come home to. I am not sure what stage she is in based on my last meeting with her. The paperwork says that she only has weeks. That was 2 weeks ago. I decide that I’m going to not dwell in it.

John Doe goes back to Jane Doe’s room and I can hear them talking about something. She seems upset. Is she upset that I’m there? Soon John Doe comes out and tells me that Jane Doe wants me to take care of her feet. Uh-oh. I recall from my training that I’m not allowed to put lotion on a patient’s feet or clip toenails. I tell them that I’m not allowed to take care of her feet. She desperately begs me to help her with her feet because she can’t reach them, and starts getting the footbath bins down out of the cupboard. I confirm that all she wants is help washing her feet. Surely that’s ok, so I agreed to it and decided to ask about it later.

John Doe leaves and I’m all alone with Jane Doe. I kneel on the floor and wash Jane Doe’s feet and am reminded of the biblical stories of Jesus washing the apostle’s feet. It felt good to me to provide this service to Jane Doe, and it gives us a chance to talk. She asked me if this job paid well, and when I told her that I do this on a volunteer basis she was very surprised. Suddenly, she seemed to warm up to me and I could feel her relax a little. After drying her feet and helping her back to her bed, she asked me to get her purse. I had a feeling what she wanted it for, but I got it anyway (just in case I was wrong). I was right. She was trying to give me money. I explained to her that I was here because I wanted to be, and that I didn’t want any money for being there. I took her purse and put it away, then tucked her into bed.

About 5 minutes after tucking her into bed, she called for me. She asked me to look in the refrigerator to see if there was any thing I could make for John Doe. I took inventory of the fridge and gave a full report, to which she asked me to cook the chicken. After telling me where everything was, I went to the kitchen and started cooking.

I hear her calling, so go back to her bedroom. She’s getting out of bed, so I helped her get her walker. Oops- I was handing her the potty chair. Oh brother. Pay a little more attention, Lori.

We walked to the kitchen together because she wanted to make sure I had found everything. I can see that Jane Doe is used to taking care of people. This must be really hard for her to be taken care of instead. I can see myself in her, in that I like to be the caregiver- not the receiver. I assure her that I have everything under control, and help her back to bed. Back to the chicken I go.

Not 5 minutes pass, and I heard her calling me again. This time she wants to give me diet tips. I find this so funny. Here’s this woman who has metastasized bone cancer wanting to give me diet tips. She makes me repeat back to her. No sugar, no salt, lots of water. I repeat it back, telling her that those are really good tips (of course, thinking to myself that I must be really huge otherwise she wouldn’t be so concerned about it!). I tell her that I’d better go turn the chicken before it burns.

Here she comes again. She’s decided that I should probably make potatoes too.

Jane Doe and I talk some more. Sometimes she’s quite alert- other times it’s hard to understand her through the slurred words. I’m glad that I’m getting to know her during her more lucid moments, and was touched when she told me that she wished she could cook me a nice meal. I told her that I could tell that she’s taken care of people all of her life and it was her turn to be taken care of. I further explained that I was here because I wanted to be here. I think she could feel my sincerity. I hope so.

Eventually John Doe returned. He was really happy that I cooked his chicken (just wait until he sees how greasy it is… I’m placing bets that I don’t get to cook for him again!).

Time to go. I was able to use the advice about turning my head. 90 years old. Good for him!


5-6-01- Sunday
I made a batch of lasagna last night, and made extra for John Doe. I thought that this would be a nice thing to do- bring over dinner every Sunday. After making it, I worried that it might be a little too spicy for him (being 90 and all…), but decided that if he didn’t like it, he could simply throw it out.

Off I went, with my homemade lasagna and not-so-homemade garlic bread. I was feeling a little bit of trepidation over my visit for some reason. Maybe it was because I knew I’d be alone with Jane Doe for almost 4 hours. Or, maybe I knew that in those 4 hours I’d be up and down that hallway about 50 times.

I got to the house (this time without the map!) and boldly rang the doorbell. John Doe answered the door in his Sunday finest. He seemed genuinely happy that I brought him lasagna, which really made me feel good. He took me back to see Jane Doe and let her know that he was on his way to church. Suddenly she became inconsolable due to her fear of being left by John Doe. She begged and pleaded with him to not leave her, all the while being reassured by John Doe that he was just going to church and would be back. I went to the living room because I didn’t want to intrude on this very tragic scene. As I sat by myself in the living room and listened to the desperation in her voice, I could not stop myself from becoming emotional. It was so painful to listen to, but quickly I reminded myself that it is not my place to be emotional over this. This is not my drama- this has nothing to do with me. If John Doe sees me in this state, he may feel that he needs to comfort me and I cannot put him in this position. I quickly suck it up and get my act together just as John Doe joins me in the living room.

I could tell that John Doe was upset over all of this, so I opened up the conversation that I felt he needed to have at the moment. He shared with me that this has been very difficult for him because he feels very trapped in his own home. His friends don’t come to visit anymore, and he can’t leave the house unless someone is there to take care of Jane Doe. His son, daughter-in-law and me are the only ones that he can leave Jane Doe with. He further goes on to tell me that every time he leaves, he can’t convince Jane Doe that he really will come back. This scene I’m witnessing is something he goes through every time he tries to leave the house. Finally, he decides that he’d better get going so he’s not late for church. Jane Doe continues to cry for about 45 minutes after he leaves the house. I go back every 5 minutes or so just to let her know that I was there for her if she needed anything. She only wanted John Doe.

Finally she fell asleep for almost an hour. During this time, I sat quietly and thought about what Jane Doe must be going through. I see Jane Doe as a woman who has taken care of people all of her life, and now she can’t. I put myself in her shoes and thought about how I’d feel if I lived my life taking care of people (and I do!) I’d probably feel that this might be why some people love me, and now I can’t do those things that I felt made me loveable. I would probably feel just as desperate when the person I loved the most left the house. She has to know that John Doe feels the burden, likewise, she must realize what a relief it is for him to get out of the house. I completely understand her despair. As I think about it even now, I can’t help but feel the tears start to well up in my eyes.

After Minnie (the VERY pudgy dog) barks and wakes up Jane Doe, she calls for me. She actually called me by name- so I know that even though she appeared to be incoherent before her nap, she was very much aware that I was there. When I went to see her she looked at me with her beautiful pale blue eyes and said, “It’s nice to see you again.” I was so glad to hear that, and told her that it was nice to see her too- and meant it. I kneeled by the side of her bed and we talked for a while. I learned that she was a nurse for 35 years, that she met John Doe through a blind date set up by her friends, that she’s cut and styled her own hair all of her life, and most of all, that I shouldn’t drink too much prune juice (because it’ll “go right through you”). We talked about the afghan that she crocheted that I admired so much (there’s nothing to it, she tells me), we talked about the fact that I’m single and that she’ll tell John Doe to set me up with a nice single man from church. I was so glad I had those moments with her, but I could see that she was getting tired so told her that I’d let her rest for a while.

John Doe called on the phone to let me know that he’s running late. Apparently there’s traffic and he’s stuck in the middle of it. I went back to Jane Doe’s room to let her know, and she holds her arms up to me. When I walked over to her, she put her arms around me and held me close to her. That meant so much to me.

Eventually John Doe came home and I started packing my stuff to leave. Out comes Jane Doe. She walks right past me as if she didn’t even know me. That was startling and I didn’t understand- but it’s not my place to understand. It was time for me to go. I gave her and John Doe a hug and left.

I reflect on the events of the day several times over the next few hours, and I can’t help but feel that this experience will profoundly affect me.


5-7-01- Monday
John Doe called me at work with some “very upsetting news”. Jane Doe had started wandering around the house early that morning, and had alternately called the neighbors and 911 several times. He called Hospice, and they decided to admit her. This news was not a surprise to me.

5-8-01- Tuesday
The social worker (Monique) called me to let me know that Jane Doe probably wouldn’t be returning home. They’re not sure if the problem is that the metastasis has gone to her brain, or meds, or what. What they do know is that John Doe can’t handle her anymore. She’s even so bad right now that a nursing home wouldn’t take her and she has a round the clock volunteer sitting in her room. Monique told me that this was quite a first experience for someone, and that I’d probably never run into such a difficult case again- that I’ve been officially initiated. I really didn’t think it was that bad- but it is a relief to know that my typical case will be much easier.

5-12-01- Saturday
I called the Hospice center to see if I could visit Jane Doe today. I was told that she was pretty much sleeping all day, and was asleep when I called so I was told that it wouldn’t be a good idea to come over at this time. I left my phone number and let the nurse know that I lived only 5 minutes away and they could call me when she woke up if she needed company. Kathy, the charge nurse, called me about an hour later saying that Jane Doe wanted me to visit her.

I quickly drove over to the Hospice center, and made my way back to the nurses station. Kathy showed me where Jane Doe’s room was, and reassured me when I asked her questions about what I was supposed to do. I walked into Jane Doe’s room and sure enough, she was soundly sleeping.

I quietly sat down on the couch and got my book out. Apparently she wasn’t sleeping as soundly as I thought, because the noise from unzipping my book bag woke her up. She looked at me with those blue eyes and didn’t seem to really care that I was there and promptly fell back asleep.

I watched her like a hawk. I thought to myself that I was being ridiculous. Every time she opened her eyes, I was right at her bedside asking her if she needed anything. She never did need anything, though. About a half an hour after I got there, she woke up and realized I was there. She held up her arms to me for a hug, telling me she was glad that I was there. I told her that I was glad I was there too, and stood there holding her hand for a while. I was bending over her bed, holding her hand, and we were just gazing into each other’s eyes for what seemed like an eternity. I didn’t know what to say to her, so I chose to say nothing. She fell back asleep, so I sat down next to the bed and started to read.

She woke up a little bit later and held her hand out to me, and instinctively I knew she wanted me to hold her hand. As I sat there holding her hand, tears were streaming down my face. I tried so hard to stop the tears from flowing, but couldn’t. I was so glad that nobody was there to witness this (except Jane Doe, but she was sleeping, so my secret was safe). I think most people would probably mistake those tears for someone who was upset about Jane Doe’s impending death. My tears had nothing to do with her dying- it was for her loss of independence.

I couldn’t get past the fact that George Doe told me that Jane Doe is an anti-social person- yet here she was- wanting to hold my hand. Even in her sleep, as I covered her up- she pulled down her covers just enough to put her hand out for me to hold. I hope I never forget that moment.

She woke up again, and wanted her bed adjusted. Due to her slurred speech, I couldn’t really understand what she was saying and ended up raising and lowering her bed for what seemed to be 30 times. Eventually I think she was comfortable (or maybe she just gave up on me. She certainly didn’t look comfortable!), and she fell asleep. I decided it was time for me to go home.

I hope that every Hospice visit won’t be such an emotional issue for me. I’m starting to wonder if I have some deep issues that I need to uncover. There’s no way I’ll give up this work. I still feel that it’s the right thing for me- but I don’t think I should cry with every visit. Maybe it’s just that I relate so much to Jane Doe. I am so independent, and I would hate to be in her position. I don’t want to have to have people taking care of me, and I especially don’t want to be a burden to anyone.


5/20/01- Sunday
Jane Doe was transferred to a nursing home, so I was a little nervous about visiting her there. I don’t have very good memories of nursing homes (mainly that they smelled really bad), so I wasn’t looking forward to being there.

When I walked in the door I was pleasantly surprised. The facility was very airy and actually smelled nice. The patients that I saw seemed well cared for.

I found Jane Doe lying in bed, wide-awake, staring at the ceiling. I no sooner walked over to the side of her bed than she wanted her blankets off. I helped her out with that, and then she wanted the foam rings off her legs. They were weird contraptions that I’m assuming helped to keep her from getting bedsores. I could see how they’d be quite annoying though, so I helped her to take them off. Big mistake! Suddenly her legs were free and she wanted out of her bed. I told her that I’d get a wheelchair to take her for a ride around the facility if she would just keep her legs in bed until I got back. I started to walk off, turned around and saw her try to swing her legs over again. I knew that I was going to have a problem and totally regretted taking those rings off her legs. I had no choice but to hold her legs and look out the door hoping for a nurse to walk by. I was in luck. One of the nurses came by and told me she’d get me a wheelchair. We then got Jane Doe situated in the wheelchair and we were on our way. Eventually we landed in the lunchroom because she wanted a cup of coffee. I was pleased that she was so eager to do “normal” things. Lunch then arrived.

I was pretty grossed out, to be honest, because it was all pureed. Pureed meat something, pureed yams, mashed potatoes, and pureed peaches. I tried to feed her a bite of the pureed meat (with a little bit of potatoes). Apparently it tasted as gross as it looked. She was pretty excited when we moved on to the peaches.

John Doe showed up while we were having lunch and was surprised that I had her out of the bed (as a matter of fact, the nurses were surprised to see her out of the bed- I guess ignorance is bliss!). I decided it was time to go, so we walked her back to her room and I helped get her back into bed (after changing her nightgown. I’m afraid I wasn’t very good at catching the coffee and other assorted liquids from spilling all over her). All in all, she was awake for the entire 4 hours I spent with her. That’s the longest I’ve seen her awake.


5-27-01- Sunday
I got a call during the week that Jane Doe had fallen out of bed and wasn’t doing very well, so was back in the Hospice center. The social worker thought that Jane Doe might be starting her active dying phase soon.

When I walked into her room, I was shocked at how she had declined in just one week. She looked so different to me. One of the nurses, Teresa, who was part of the discussion panel in my training, came in the room and talked to me for a bit. I mentioned that I planned to just sit with Jane Doe even though she was asleep and didn’t know I was there. Teresa reminded me that the hearing is the last to go and that she was sure that Jane Doe knew that I was there. When she left, I leaned over Jane Doe and told her that I was here. Sure enough out came her frail little hand from under her sheet. I sat next to her bed and just held her hand while she slept. Of course, I became emotional again. I was glad that nobody was there to see it.

John Doe came in and had brought two of his friends with him. One of them seemed to be overwhelmed by the sight of Jane Doe. When I shook his hand, I just held it a little longer as a way of saying that I understood how he felt. Poor little man had to leave the room. John Doe told me later that this particular gentleman really loved Jane Doe and wasn’t expecting to see her looking so frail. It all really did happen so fast. It was just a month ago that I was assigned to her.

John Doe sat next to me for a little bit, telling me how glad he was to see me there. He said that it meant a lot to him because Jane Doe really likes me, and he can tell that I care about her. He told me that he wasn’t going to move Jane Doe out of the hospice center because he didn’t want to put her through moving another time. He didn’t care how much it cost. I put my hand on his and told him that I thought he was a really good man. He started to cry at that point so I put my arm around his shoulders and just sat with him. I asked him to tell me about Jane Doe, and he confirmed what I’ve thought about her all along. But he also went on to tell me that even though she was strong willed- they always compromised on everything.

He shared with me the circumstances of her diagnosis. She was having shoulder problems and ended up going for an x-ray. The technician saw something apparently, because they quickly sent her for a bone scan. John Doe and Jane Doe got a call that day that she needed to go see her doctor right away. John Doe told me that Jane Doe knew what it was even before the doctor told her. She decided that she didn’t want chemo or radiation. Having been a nurse, she knew that once cancer metastasizes into the bones, then those measures just prolong the disease. She would never be cured. I’m sure she made the right decision.

Jane Doe slept the entire time I was there. I left after spending 2.5 hours there, but plan to go back on Wednesday evening after work. I am not sure if she’ll still be around by then.

5-30-01- Wednesday
I went to the Hospice center to visit Jane Doe, and was shocked to see an empty bed when I walked into her room.

I wanted to believe that they just moved Jane Doe to a different room, but I knew deep down what happened.

I went to the nurse’s station to ask about Jane Doe, and after looking in the book (I later referred it to the black book of death), she informed me that Jane Doe passed away that morning. She apologized that nobody called to tell me- probably feeling bad after seeing the look of shock on my face.

So, this is what it’s going to be like, I thought. Completely fall in love with someone, and then they’re gone in a month. Am I really cut out for this? Am I supposed to get attached like this?

Whether I’m supposed to or not, this is a part of my nature that I can’t shut off. I can’t care for someone and not care about them.

I went home and cried, knowing that I’d never see Jane Doe, or hold her sweet hand again.

I was right when I felt I’d learn a lot from Jane Doe. I learned a lot about caring for someone you don’t know, I learned a lot about letting go, and mostly, I learned a lot about myself.

Thank you, Jane Doe, for those gifts.

6-20-01- Wednesday
I took a couple of weeks off, in order to reflect on the lessons and prepare myself for the next patient. The patient died the day before my first appointment with her.

I was told that this happened more often than not, because patients often go on Hospice right before they die, either because the doctor is afraid to broach the topic, or the family doesn’t want to accept the prognosis.

Knowing what I know now, I’ll beg to be on Hospice the minute I know I’ve got only 6 months left. If not for me, for my family so they have respite care to do the things that they need to do.

My decision to move from individual patient care, to visiting patients in the Hospice wing came on May 5th 2002.

The patient assigned to me thought her oxygen tubing was a cigarette and she lit it, causing her entire head to catch on fire. Her family called 911 and the when asked by the paramedics if the family wanted her to be resuscitated, they said yes. That, of course is against the DNR (do not resuscitate) orders, so she was taken off the program.

Only until her family guaranteed that they wouldn't ask to have her resuscitated, could she come back to the program. At that point, I had pneumonia, so never saw her again. All that time lying in bed gave me time to imagine the possibilities of what all could happen while I was in a patient’s home.

When the patient volunteer coordinator called me for my next patient, I told her that I just couldn't mentally handle the fear and asked to be put on the wing.

5-04-02- Sunday
Last night was my first night on the wing. There were 4 patients, and one died while I was there. I wasn't in the room while she died. Her family was there, all 25 of them, saying their goodbyes.

I was shadowing another volunteer to learn what my tasks would be. Here they are:

• Help the nurses with anything they need. This could be bathing, repositioning the patient, feeding, changing, etc.


• Go to the pharmacy to pick up the drugs, including narcotics. This meant that I’d have to walk across the street from the Hospice center to the hospital. I was told that if someone tries to rob me of the drugs, just let them have it. That is a bit of a scary thought.


• General straightening up of the areas (visitor areas, hallways, kitchen)


• Deliver and pick up food trays


• Keep all the flowers watered


• Answer patient calls


• Pick up and deliver patient records from the Hospital

And the things I don’t like to think about, but also on the list:

• Help the funeral director bag the body


• Help the funeral director pick up the body and put it on the gurney


• Walk out to the hearse with the funeral director and the body.

I suppose this will cure my fear of dead people.

I'm setting up my new NAS (Network Attached Storage) and while doing so, taking the opportunity to clean out my computer.

You know... instead of doing what I REALLY should be doing- WORKING.

Anyhoo- coming across a few gems that are making me smile. I think this is a much better idea that working, because working doesn't make me smile NEARLY as much. OK, in truth, working doesn't make me smile at all on the weekends. Pffffth.

Sent to Heidi on 3/14/04- just over a month before the bearded eye-roller and I got married.

Back from Vancouver...with a few mushy thoughts. I hope you don't mind.

It seems that every time we do something together (trips, out to dinner, etc.) I always think, "this is the BEST time I've ever had." That's what I thought the last time, and the time before that. How is it possible that everything we do is better than the time before?

I just feel so lucky to have the opportunity to love and be loved like THIS.....day in and day out.

I never thought it was 'real' when I witnessed it in the lives of other people. I never believed in this kind of love, and I thought there was NO WAY it would happen for ME.

It did, and I highly suspect I'll be saying that until one of us buries the other, hopefully not anytime soon.

You know what's funny? I thought I was madly in love with BER then, but it's NOTHING compared to how I feel about him today. I have a feeling that tomorrow I'll love him even a little bit more than I do today, because that seems to be the trend.

It's nice to be reminded of the good stuff when I have my head buried in work. It helps me to maintain perspective.

Well, in theory anyway.