When I first started this job, the nearness to death of my patients was very much in front of my awareness. Now that I have been doing this job for 2+ years, I suspect that I have begun to count on my ability to anticipate someone's death, to have some sense of when they are "getting close." But I don't have this ability. And I am occasionally surprised when a patient dies, even though I often lose patients every day.
I liked Ms. Jenny. She was fiercely independent and insisted on living alone in spite of the fact that she was likely going to die from hitting her head on the corner of a piece of furniture as she was falling. I visited with her three times. I like listening to her stories. She liked to talk about her childhood. She grew up in a family of nine. She had buried her husband and her daughter and all of her siblings. She didn't like to eat much but she did love hard boiled eggs.
Tomorrow I'm going to try to keep in mind that when I say goodbye to my patients as I'm leaving their house that I might be saying goodbye for the last time.
4 comments:
In honor of you and Ms. Jenny, I just ordered a book for you from amazon.com. Emi and I read it while sitting on the floor at Hastings this week. I guess it will get to you in 3-5 business days.
Thanks Steve. I got it today. It was wonderful and brought tears to my eyes. And I've had occasion to remind myself of those three answers since I received it.
Thanks again.
The world is fortunate to have you, Lisa, to care for those near the end of life. Aunt C
I posted a quote from Annie Dillard in my classroom this week. I'll try it from memory:
Grief sucks. But avoiding it robs us of life, of the now, and of a living spirit.
dad
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