HOSPICE
Lehigh Valley Hospice Unit
Allentown, PA
December 28, 2015
I spend the afternoon at the hospice center with
Charlene. We have been friends for 20
years and now there are only a few days left. She has been struggling with
cancer for almost 5 years and she was determined to beat it but now she is left
with no other choice but to go gently into the dark. In a few days, the cancer
will win and Charlene will be gone. So I
went to the hospital today to say goodbye.
I had planned on stopping in and only staying for 15 minutes
as I thought that would be enough time and then she wouldn’t feel obligated to
stay up any longer than she could, just to visit with me. But Charlene is beyond any capability of
visiting with me. Her breathing is
labored, it is difficult to swallow or talk so she doesn’t attempt either. She falls in and out of sleep. Some of this is morphine induced. But mostly
she is exhausted from this hard work of living.
Her sister sits with her this afternoon. Her husband just left to go to dialysis and
he will then go home to rest and be back in the morning. Friends have stopped by. Some of them are
uncomfortable with how helpless they feel.
Some of the visits are very short.
Others stay about an hour and they leave.
But now that I am here, I don’t want to leave. I can’t walk
away. This will probably be the last
time we are together. So I want to stay even though I am probably overstaying
my welcome. I can’t bring myself to move
on.
“Stay as long as you like”, Phyllis, her sister, tells me.
“And if you need a moment of privacy to say goodbye, I can go to the lounge and
read my book.”
I don’t have any need to say any profound last words.
Truthfully, I don’t have anything to say.
But I just really want to hang around. So I do and now I am in
conversations with the nurses on what I think needs to be done to assure me
that Charlene is not suffering.
“No, “ one of the nurses tells me with a huge smile that
sends the vibes that I should shut the fuck up.
This medical professional knows better than me as to what Charlene needs
at this point. “She will tell us when she needs a Valium. We will know.
She will get fidgety and you will see a grimace in her face. We know.
We do this all of the time. I
know she isn’t speaking anymore. But her
gestures will tell us when she needs more medication. That’s what I mean when I say she’ll tell
us.” And so her words shut me up until the next nurse comes in and again, I
start up with my plea to give her more morphine.
A therapist comes in and we aren’t really sure what he wants
to do with Charlene. The opportunity to talk about any of her fears is gone
now. She isn’t conversing with anyone
anymore. No, he tells us. He does
massage therapy to help reduce any pain or stress. So we give him a wide circle around the bed and
the two of us watch as he puts pressure on Charlene’s skull, neck and the arches of her feet. We are told to ask people not to rub her in
any way as this irritates her nerves. I
am sorry to hear this as I spent the afternoon, holding her hand and rubbing it
in hopes of making any sort of connection with her. Now, I go out of my way to instruct all
future victors on the correct way to soothe Charlene.
She is really thirsty as she can’t swallow. She has an
oxygen tube up her nose and she is breathing through her mouth. A nurse’s aide comes in, full of life and
love and swabs her mouth with cold water.
We are given instructions on how to do this and it will bring Charlene
so much relief.
We are also given an orange sorbet and ice chips as yet more
alternatives to elevate her dry mouth. She likes the combination of these two
rubbed against her upper lip. I feel privileged to help her with this small
gesture.
The sun sets tonight at 5 so Phyllis turns on a light over
the bed.
“What do you think? Does that light seem to bother her?”
“I know this sounds silly, but it really makes her look
sicker, as if that is possible,” I confess. But with the lights on, we can now
see shadows along the indentations in her face from all the weight loss. She looks really old and frail, almost
ghostly.
I decide to leave because I just can’t stare at her
anymore. Phyllis hugs me and I tell her
how sorry I am for her and she tells me that she is sorry I am losing a friend.
I kiss Charlene on the forehead and wander off into the dark, foggy night. I
leaving hoping that tonight, Charlene will wander off as well.
POSTSCRIPT: Charlene died two days later.
POSTSCRIPT: Charlene died two days later.
