Six Months or Less

Yuck

2009-04-13T17:26:00.004-05:00

I don't know how many ways I can describe the awfulness of an endo-cervical cutterage without scaring readers away. It hurts. They don't give you pain killers until after. And it makes me cry from the pit of my soul.

I was under the impression that I would have a brief exam by the Gyno and then consult with the surgeon afterward. Luckily for me my doc here at home did not send the slides from my last exam, I got to have everything redone by the docs at the Mayo in Rochester. Pap, Colposcopy, and ECC... all while be observed by the hottest doctor I have ever seen.

This Gyno was good. She obviously wasn't going to be taking any risks, or wasting my time with multiple appointments. I have much more confidence in her, than my home doc. Her Eastern European accent was easy enough to understand for the most part, and I really think that she has a good head on her shoulders. It just seemed with me, she was a little distracted.

By the time she had arrived in the exam room, I had been waiting for at least a half hour with no pants on. I had to sneak out at one point with a sheet wrapped around me looking for a bathroom, and when I got back, there was still no sign of her. When she did arrive she was with a tall man in a suit and a name tag. She introduced herself and then him as Dr. Whatisname and then continued with the exam. I looked at his name tag and it said he was a maxiofacial doctor, which I understand to be an oral surgeon.

I understand that Mayo is a teaching hospital, but I didn't understand why the guy that does root canals was observing my baby canal. I also couldn't help but notice he was one of the most attractive men I've ever seen in person. Did it help with the exam, not really. Considering the Gyno was talking to him the whole time, and having him 'take a look for himself' the torturous exam took twice as long as normal. He was respectful and all that, and was lucky I guess to observe an 'unsatifactory coloposcopy', but give a girl a break here.

So, as for cancer again, I don't know, but it's not looking too great. Waiting back for word from their results. There was a missed call on my phone today from a number from Rochester, but no message. Hard to say what that means.

Here's hopin.

Next Step

2009-03-24T12:46:00.005-05:00

I have my next appointment set up for April 6th. I am both nervous and non committal. There is only the appointments to see an OB/GYN for more poking and prodding and then the consulting with the surgeon.

I've come to understand that I'm supposed to feel used to this by now. In many ways I do. This is just another step in the process. I have done this step several times. I'm mostly expecting to not find out any information at all. Just more 'we don't know'.

I try not to get mad at the medical community. The impression that doctors know more than they do is the fault of the patient as much as the rules of society. I'm consulting them for their opinion. In the end it is always my choice towards the action.

I discussed with my parents that if they have nothing definitive to give me, I'm not going to undergo any surgery. That decision has given me some peace.

Waiting

2009-03-04T16:38:00.002-06:00

Waiting seems to be a theme in my life right now. Maybe I should embrace this as my opportunity for enlightenment on the subject. Tracked the doctor down after his vacation and he's passing the towel over to the 'expert' at the Mayo Clinic. I have to wait to get into to see her, though. So I'm not sure when it will be that I'll get more information.

I'm going to concentrate on being in perfect health.

Vacation

2009-02-20T14:54:00.002-06:00

The problem with doctoring in the winter in the north is that it is so freaking cold that everyone leaves in February. It is nearly impossible to get anything done quickly in February if it involves someone going on vacation.

One month later, I have finally the results from the last procedure (after my doc returned from vacation)... and they are indicative of more waiting. Good news: No sign of cancer. Annoying News: Have to travel to see specialist to determine next step since everything is not hunky dory. Even more annoying news: Have to wait for local doc to contact specialist doc and wait for the Mayo Clinic to contact me about an appointment. So, you know. That will be weeks from now.

Good thing I'm not dying. ;)

Naming this Blog

2009-02-11T10:14:00.002-06:00

I'm having trouble with this blog as of late. I started it talking about working with Hospice because it was such a profound experience. Now it seems to be a place to talk about my horrible doctor visits and being treated for Cancer that I may or may not have.

I decided several months ago that I couldn't hold it in anymore, because it was eating me alive. I had only told a few friends, and hadn't even told my best friends that it had possibly come back. My parents, sisters, and boyfriend were the only ones that knew anything about it. So I spilled my guts, and I feel better.

I don't want to talk about it so much any more. I mean, I will definitely keep people updated, but I certainly don't want to feed the ghouls so to speak. So what do I talk about then? The people that I massage? Professionalism and HIPPA prevent me from doing that. Things that are unimportant, like the hundreds of fake band names I come up with? People seem to like my writing, from what I gather (which is sometimes difficult to do).

So, I'm just going to say what I want. Right? Yes. Right. I'm in charge here. ;)

Speaking of Updates:
I have not heard word one from Doc. It's been nearly 3 weeks. What does this mean?
According to my sister, who is a newspaper reporter, my Doc is at a conference this week. I don't know how she knows this, but small towns can be creepy sometimes.

Maybe I'll Rename this blog The Rub Down.

I'm tired of worrying

2009-02-02T16:06:00.003-06:00

I am still waiting for the updated prognosis. However, I am tired of worrying about it. So I decided I'm not going to. I could waste my time, pre-worrying about something that I don't know the outcome of and make myself miserable, or I can enjoy each day I have. I think I'm going to vote for enjoyment.

Recluse

2009-01-27T18:06:00.002-06:00

I haven't been good myself. I have shut myself away from the world and anything that makes me have to answer questions or have conversations.

I am not dying, but I do not want to explain. My friends and family know better, however. They know that I am struggling with two many worries in my basket. They want to know why I haven't read their blogs, or updated them on my health. What exactly do those cryptic status statements on facebook mean, anyway?

Whether you have an abnormal pap smear, or cervical cancer, or just a regular check up... Pelvic exams are not fun. Up until this last year, they rated higher than rectal exams and enemas on my list of fun things to do, but that has quickly diminished. Since June, I have had 8 pelvic invasions of the medical variety. They have varied in complexity and pain, from the merely uncomfortable to the horrendously awful. Last week I experienced the most horrible of all procedures I have had to endure. It defied any strength of character that I possessed and sent me into hiding ever since.

Since my last pap came back with severe dysplasia (that's one step before cancer, as I understand it) after I had surgery to remove all hooglie googlie cells, the docs were not happy. They did another LEEP procedure, a difficult and uncomfortable procedure involving an electrified scalpel and local anesthesia. A procedure which I was doing okay with until they removed tissue from an area that had not been numbed. The results from that biopsy was... good. It was normal, with no abnormal cells and no cancer! Whoo hoo! *shaking head no* Not so says the doc, because the other test showed abnormal, so they have to be coming from somewhere. Somewhere deeper. Where we can't see. Enter in the Endocervical Extraction. I was warned that it would be uncomfortable but comforted by the fact that it would be quick. It only takes a second to feel the pain as the doctor blindly inserts, prods, and pulls out pieces of you, with out the benefit of painkillers.

I started crying. It took all I had not to throw up. When the nurse and doctor left the room, I just sat and stared at my feet. What am I doing? What I have I done? Why do I have to go through this?

Earlier in the summer, I breezed through these procedures with hardly a thought. I was still numb I guess. In shock over it all. I felt guilty that I had not suffered. Now each visit is excruciating, filled with nothing concrete and soul wrenching pain. Now I wait. Wait for news that i don't know what do with, how to feel about, or wish for. I wish for no cancer, but that will not preclude me from further surgery if there are abnormal cells.

This is what has been keeping me up nights, and avoiding my phone during the days. Today is a good day and I grow weary of hiding myself. Perhaps it is the warmer temperatures, finally above 10 degrees, and the sunshine. Maybe it is love and concern of my friends. Maybe I'm just weary of myself.

More waiting...

2009-01-16T10:21:00.002-06:00

I have mentioned a couple times in this blog that my mother has always advised against getting too attached to your plans. I am reminded of this advice on a constant basis lately.

In September, I underwent surgery to remove pieces of myself. Pieces of my physical body and my spiritual self. I tried to explain to my sister what it was like. The 'procedures' leading up to the surgery were worse than the surgery itself. I was awake for the procedures as they prodded around inside my cervix. My sister has two children, so I hoped that she would understand the profound connection that woman have to their reproductive abilities. My entire biological imperative; my purpose as a woman was being violated. I could feel pieces of my identity being pulled away from me bit by bit. I felt it in my very core, as if I was removing part of my soul.

I know intellectually that it had to be done. My life and my future chance at fulfilling my purpose depended on it. After the surgery, and the confidence of the surgeon left me feeling relieved. I had done the right thing for myself, my future, and I only need to take care of my health. Report for 3 month check ups for 2 years and avoid alcohol, cigarettes, and stress.

I had my first 3 month check up in December. My doctor called after the beginning of the year. I had resolved to let 2008 cast a pallor on my future. It had been a tough year, but I'm made of sterner stuff than that. Plus I had a new year in town, and it showed the shiny new gleam of promise. That gleam was tarnished after talking to my doctor about the pap results. Not only was there more dysplasia, it was severe... after less than 3 months. The doctor, surgeon, and I are still stunned.

I remind myself that this is what 3 month check ups are for. That this isn't as yet, a life or death situation. I am still crushed. I thought I it was over. I didn't know if my soul could handle another LEEP procedure. The electrified scalpel, the numbing injections, the florescent lights in my eyes, and that god awful green paint on the walls. Once again, it was awful, but I survived it. Now I just wait. Wait to see if more cancer was found within. Wait to see if my purpose is put further at risk. Wait to see the ultimate boundaries of my strength.

Taking it all in

2008-12-30T17:25:00.004-06:00

It has been since months since I was diagnosed with cancer. I have since been tested and prodded and surgically treated. I have had one follow up visit (still awaiting results)... but it is only now that I feel like I can talk, or even think about what happened. I don't have cancer anymore, I'm not sure I even did in the first place. It happened so fast and was so unexpected that it never registered that I had a life threatening illness.

I feel strange with my brush with cancer, it doesn't seem like it happened at all. It raises all sorts of questions of the 'why' variety. If there is a God, why scare the bejubus out of me, then make it seem like it never happened? I remember a lot of fear and denial and guilt. Isn't that interesting. Guilt over not have as bad of cancer as everybody else. "Please don't call me a survivor... I just had a wart removed, that's all." That's how it felt to me.

It started me thinking about hospice patients that are given a diagnosis of 6 months or less when they didn't know they were sick in the first place. When I worked with them, they seemed calm or sometimes in daze, not exactly sure of what to make of the situation. Shock I guess you would call it. Now I have experienced it first hand... if my diagnosis had been worse, and it took me 6 months to realize what was happening to me in the first place... where would I be?

Diagnosis

2008-12-22T14:45:00.007-06:00

It has been over a year since I've left hospice, but the affect on my life has not diminished.
*****

This summer I was diagnosed with cancer. I sat in silence and looked to my mother as the doctor said words that I knew I understood but did not make any sense. I could feel the oxygen burn in my nostrils as I inhaled. I felt the mental clicks of defense mechanisms. Stoic demeanor will surpass emotion. I stopped listening and nodded my head to make my exit that much sooner. There would be appointments. There would be MRI's, consultations, and discussions of risks and outcomes in the future, but at that moment I wanted to dissolve into oblivion.

*****

The experience of working with bodies both strong and frail have opened my eyes to miracle of life. As a species we are a grand experiment that seems on the verge of failing, yet pulls through at the very end. Our very fear of death has lead to a richness of life that can not compare to any other species, yet our lives are not complete without death. Is our fear the death itself, or the lack of knowing whether we'll be able to gloat to our friend that we did it! We got to the finish line with all goals accomplished.

I fear the darkness. I fear the silence. I fear the cold of the earth and loss of inner burning of my soul.

Another Cycle

2008-02-05T21:05:00.000-06:00

I found out recently that two of my hospice clients that were released from hospice, had returned and subsequently passed away. I talked about these two quite often, and if not in my blog, in my mind and heart.

I saw E. for almost two years, before they decided to release her from hospice. She is the one that scared me the most. It seems funny to be scared of a 90 year old woman confined to her bed, and her own head. She didn't talk, she couldn't move herself, and she barely acknowledged your existence, but when she did, it got right to my core, right to my fears.

The fear that I would be alone dying, with no family to take care of me. I don't know if that was E.'s case, but situation always seemed to allude to that. In scary movies, you don't have to actually see the scary part to be scared. You infer things, you guess, and you imagine. A lot of the time, your imagination is a lot worse than what actually happened, and I think this could be true of many of our fears. To be well taken care of in a good nursing home, such as the one that E. lived in, is nothing to fear... but we do none the less.

The second person, D. was returned back home when her family was again able to take care of her after a family set back, and she died at home with her son there. She was also slipping into her own mind, slowly and would have soon needed much of the care that E. needed... but D. gave me hope. She was in a nursing home for several months, but she always seemed to have a smile on her face no matter where she was. I did not fear going to help her, and I was glad to hear she died at home.

I also hear that they have finally found a replacement for me 6 months after I left. I hope she is ready for what she is about to experience, I know I wasn't. I am happy for the clients to finally have the benefit of massage therapy once again at their disposal. I know that it made a huge impact on many of the clients I worked with.

I somehow feel that it is finally coming to an end, my experience with this particular hospice. I felt a little guilty leaving, when I knew that they would have trouble finding a replacement in this small community. I don't regret leaving, my business is doing very well and my stress level is much less. However, it's hard to give up touching peoples lives in such a profound way.

Good luck to the next in this cycle.

On the other side

2008-01-04T10:19:00.001-06:00

It's been an interesting journey as of late. This switching of lanes from caregiver to bereaved.

I've understood for a long time the process of grieving and the steps it takes. The actions, emotions, and habits of the mourning process. It's been all very intellectual up until this point.

I cried for my grandma for the first time on 12/30/07, a month and a half after her death. As I let go, I realized that I was actually crying for all the people in my family that have passed in the last 2.5 years (I think we were up to 5).

Suddenly my understanding of the behavior of caregivers of hospice patients seemed so much clearer. I had not realized how much I was holding back, or how much I was relying on the problems of my clients to distract me from my own mourning.

I have heard people saying about others "She's just not been the same since so and so died" and never really knew what to think about it. I have a better understanding of it today. I realized that I have not been 'the same' since that first death in our family.

I feel that I am profoundly lucky to have had the experience of massage therapy and hospice work to guide me through this personally difficult time.

-sigh-

We Gave Her Exactly What She Wanted

2007-11-18T21:39:00.001-06:00

I had a couple of things wrong in my last post. My grandfather died on the 21st, not the 20th, and my grandma was waiting, but not for that particular date.

She asked to have the door to her sick room left open because Daddy was going to come and get her, and he did that today.

She died the Sunday before Thanksgiving, just like he did, with her children and grand children surrounding her.

We held her hand, told her that we loved her, and that we were okay. She could go when she was ready.

After she passed, my aunt hugged one of my uncles and said "We did it" and started to cry.

Sleeping in Daddy's Room

2007-11-13T10:11:00.000-06:00

Grandma insists on calling everyone's father, "Daddy". She refers to her late husband as "Daddy" and she tells me to ask my "Daddy" things. It's Daddy this and Daddy that and for the longest time it really annoyed me. I don't ever remember referring to my father as anything other than Dad (or Old Fart if I'm giving him a hard time) after the age of 4 or 5.

When she was admitted to hospice, she asked for the nurse Daddy had before he died. A week or so ago she asked my uncle to move her bed into the room where Daddy died. My grandfather died on November 20, 2004 just days before Thanksgiving in his office that was converted into a sick room. When she requested this my mother and I looked at each other knowingly, but kept our mouths shut. I had suspected for a long time that my grandmother missed my grandfather much more than she let on, and that she had a bit of a romantic in her that she would never reveal.

This last weekend my father and I made another trip to see her, and she had declined significantly since I last saw her. My first reaction was a familiar one that I knew I had to squelch. It was fear. This time instead of letting others take charge and move in, I used my education as a Massage Therapist bolstered myself with it. I walked over to her and placed my hand gently on her head. I broke through my fear with the one thing I was confident of at that moment. I was skilled in providing appropriate touch, and I knew how to work with people who are dying. I wasn't scared off when the light touch produced pain. I lightened my touch to her comfort level. I asked her if I she wanted me to stop and she said no. Though there was pain, the touch felt so good to her.

The drive home wasn't nearly as silent as the last. There was much less denial, and more anger from my father, and of course, fear. For the first time I can remember my father admitted is worst fear. "I am so afraid of November 20th" he said to me. "Do you think she's waiting for that day to die?" I asked him, though I had been thinking that for weeks now. "Yes, I think that is what she wants".

You hear stories of people dying on the same day, or two days after their spouse unable to go on. Only time will tell if this will be true for Grandma. I hope she gets what she wants. There is something romantic about it, and in a way life affirming. If she can determine this last day, make her last wish come true before going on to the next world, exhibit this last bit of power, it would make me so happy. We are a stubborn lot, my family, and I would hate for any of us to let the world decide for us.

Much closer to home

2007-10-23T10:49:00.000-05:00

I had mentioned in an earlier post that my grandmother was dying and that she was admitted to hospice. This was about a year ago, and she pulled though and was doing great, until a month ago. She is back in hospice, with an even short life expectancy than before.

I went to see her on Sunday with my father and we chatted and cleaned her house for her and visited with the other relatives that were there. I gave her a back and leg massage in her chair and she really enjoyed it. I felt good about being able to do something besides just sit there and be the granddaughter amongst the hubbub of visitors.

Kneeling down by her chair, rubbing her legs, my grandmother started talking to me as an adult, something she rarely does, even though I'm 32 years old. She normally tells me to 'go ask your daddy' things, instead of asking me what I think. This day she told me that she "wasn't faking this, as some of them think" and I let her talk. I did what I always did working with hospice patients, I let it be their time and let them have what they needed.

I left feeling drained and depressed. This is much different. Providing care for your own grandmother, and not someone elses. When I worked in Hopsice there is that magic thing called "boundries" and the knowledge that your responsibilites lasted the hour a week you were in the home. With this I took home much more information that I wanted about my aunts and uncles, about my cousins, about who is being nice, and who is being mean. I just don't want to know.

I rode home with my father, an hour drive, in a pseudo silence. A silence about what we had just expierenced. He is greatful for my help with the massage and my calm demenor during the visit. There is enough arguing and crying and flitting about these days.

Lessons Learned

2007-09-24T00:18:00.001-05:00

It's been almost a month since I've left the hospice program.

I still scan the obituaries to see who has passed away, and whether or not I knew them. This last week one of my clients that I had been seeing for over six months finally passed away. I was surprised at first, but in the end I was glad that she is finally at rest.

A few weeks before I left, I had a new client who was recently diagnosed with terminal cancer. We bonded right away and I was able to give her her first massage ever. She was very excited about it and couldn't wait to brag to her daughters about her massages. I've heard through the rumor mill that she really misses me and the massages I gave her. It was when I heard that she missed me that I had the first pang of loss about leaving my clients. I wanted to say, I'll see her anyway! I'll go over there on my own! But I can't do that. With all the laws and ethics and liability I can't just go over and give this woman what she needs... though in doing it, it would be giving me somthing that I need, too.

I went into the job hoping to squash my fear of death and the unknown. That didn't happen exactly. I learned to face towards death and not close my eyes, but the fear is still there. I learned more about love and families than I ever thought I would. I learned to tell people how you feel and to let go of material things because they aren't worth fight over in the end. I learned about the letting go, but I haven't learned how to achieve it yet, and there is still fear.

I believe this is still progress and I hope that it will help me in my next challenge-- deal with the death of my grandmother who collapsed today and left the hospital with a prognosis of three weeks to live.

Anticipation

2007-08-29T15:59:00.001-05:00

Tomorrow is my last day of hospice.

It will be a good day.

The two people I see are the most recent clients, and they are great clients. Both had never received massage before and one took a little convincing, but they both really enjoy it.

Hopefully, all will go as planned... but as I've said before... don't count on your day going as planned in Hospice, they never do.

The First Day of School

2007-08-18T21:11:00.001-05:00

I am feeling the anxiety pains of leaving a job I helped to create.

I knew that when I left they would have trouble replacing me because of the qualifications required for the job. It's not that I'm extra qualified in the world of massage therapy. It's more that for this region I have the papers that say I know stuff. Hospitals like papers that say you know stuff. There are a few of us over here in the sticks, but not many. And of us, there are fewer who are up for the challenge of working with the terminally ill.

I helped start and develop the MT portion of the hospice program here and I am worried that it will suffer with my absence. Part of the reason I needed to leave was the amount of work it took to start this program and grow my private practice at the same time. It takes constant attention outside of the actual massages I give. I needed to be there continually educated my coworkers and clients and remind everyone what I needed to happen to make this program work. This is fine if you can dedicate all your time to this process. I was doing this very thing for my private practice and being a constant representative for two causes can be overwhelming.

I am worried that when they find my replacement it will be months after my last day and the momentum of what I helped start will have waned. I worry. I feel like a mother sending her child to preschool. Will it be okay alone for a while, without me to nurture it?

I have to have faith that it will survive and grow to be a better program. I am of course sad that it wasn't me to make it great, but I did help get the thing off the ground.

I can't forget my other child, the business that I started and is in desparate need of my attention. There are something there that I have neglected and need attending before they go awry.

Time to let go...

Enormous Guilt

2007-08-03T22:35:00.000-05:00

I heard a phrase last week and it all became clear. Compassion fatigue.

I had a fantastic experience visiting Chicago taking a class on improving my clinical outcome with head and neck pain. It was fun, educational, and it reminded me how much I love practicing massage therapy. I like working with people and making their lives a little better. I like seeing the improvement in their range of motion and out look on their day.

In order attend this class, I had to take two days off of work. When I returned one of my clients had passed away. I was crushed. I felt enormously guilty for not being able to see him one more time before he passed. I took a deep breath and let the guilt pass and then turned in my resignation.

It seems I'm not able to seperate this emotions from this job from affecting my life outside of the job. There are enough things that make us feel bad and decided four years ago when I began this career path that I was never going to feel bad about going to work again. I am not the right person for this job, and for this I am sad, but not devastated as I thought I would be.

I have learned a tremendous amount about the value of positive touch and the dying process. I will never regret taking this job, but I do not believe I will regret leaving it either. I do not ever want to have my passion become a burden, the minute it does, I will have to stop doing it because I am of no value to my clients if I do not love what I am doing.

I am hopeful that the therapist that replaces me will have this passion and bring what is needed to this position. I am excited about the chance I know have to dedicate more time to my private practice. To be reinvigorated by my recent educational travels and channel that energy and excitement to benefit my clients.

I think I may keep this blog going for a little while as I still have a month left of the job and I am sure with the stress of the job off, I will possibly come to some more conclusions about this experience.

I encourage all massage therapist with intrest in hospice massage to explore the possibilities in your area. It is definitely worth your time. A life lesson to say the least.

Two Years Already?

2007-07-12T10:57:00.000-05:00

It seems like I was just making posts last week about how I've been doing massage for hospice clients for a year, and now it's almost to the two year mark.

I expected this job to be more than a job in a lot of ways. When you sign up to bring comfort to the dying, you think to yourself "This is going be a an amazing, scary, fullfilling, life changing job". You pat yourself on the back for having the cahoonies to take the job in the first place. You feel good about the recognition you recieve from your peers, friends, and community. In a lot of ways the job is like how I expected to be. Some of the most common things I hear are "I could never do this", "It's so great that YOU are doing this for people who really need this", etc...

It didn't go to my head too much though, because I still had my mother, who is a hospice nurse, to give me some doses of reality. My sister said something to the effect "This is the last job I would expect YOU to take" and she was right, this position was a bit of stretch for my personality. The reality of the position, is while you are helping people while on visits, the times you are in the office are very much like any other job. There are co workers who don't shut up while you are trying to document your visits, nurses who still don't write a referral for MT correctly, state inspectors you have to perform for, and paperwork that boggles the mind.

The funny thing is, I have a much less glamorous job as a Chiropractic Assistant that seems less like a job than this one does. That was not what I expected when I signed up to "change peoples lives"

I've come to conclusion that this is a very worthwhile, fulfilling, giving thing to do as a massage therapist. It is definetely something that we need to see more of in hospice programs across the nation. When I graduated from massage school, I was asked to give the speech for my class during the ceremony. I gave a nervous speech on Passion for what we do... I felt that passion that day and I feel it for my private practice, but I don't feel it doing thing work for hospice anymore. People in hospice deserve that passion. I see it in the nurses and aides that work with them, I see it in the clergy and social worker that visit them, but I don't feel it in me and I think that is wrong.

I am thinking about leaving hospice, but I want the person who replaces me to be committed and passionate about what they are taking on. This has been a difficult realization for me to accept. It's nice to be thought of as an amazing person for working with dying people, but that's not the reason to do it.

I imagine it will take me several months to go through with this in the end. There are logistics and of course the aformentioned 'cahoonies' to give up in the middle of something that is going so well for the other people involved.

The First Has Left

2007-07-05T22:19:00.000-05:00

Today the first hospice client I ever treated was discharged from hospice. She had stabilized and even gained a pound of weight, so it was determined she no longer was in need of hospice services.

I have been wondering for so long what it would be like when I wouldn't have her on my schedule anymore. I have been seeing her once a week for two years. I honestly didn't think it would be because she was discharged, and it is almost a relief. I got out of having to deal with my first client pass away.

****

I've come to notice that a lot of people who are referred to hospice see it as the first step in a death sentence... and I guess I could see how they would feel that way, most of the time it is. Instead of taking advantage of hospice right away, they wait until the last minute when there is little time left for help to be given.

I guess I would be the same way. I would like to think that I'm enlightened and would face death without fear, but I know that isn't true. If there is one thing that this job has taught me, it's that watching other people die doesn't solve my issues. It's not the death of others that I fear, it is my own. That is something I still need to face on my own.

I pray for your hands

2007-06-27T11:58:00.001-05:00

I have been working for the last couple weeks with a man whose family is very happy with his hospice care. It took them a little while at first to adjust to the idea of their father dying and the influx of people visiting, nurses attending, and dad declining. They refused massage therapy at first, but then as things settled down, they decided to give it a try.

The second time I came, the daughter thanked me for my 'talent', happy that after I had been there the week before, her dad had slept four hours straight. While working with him yesterday, the client started coughing up flem (which he had been trying to do all day) and the daughter exclaimed "Could it be! Can massage do this for him!" As I wasn't pounding on his back and was keeping the work pretty light, I told her it was probably a coincidence. She kept calling my hands "miracle hands" and told me that they reminded her of her late sister's hands.

As I was leaving, the daughter was thanking me again and she told me that she "prayed for my talent" and that she was so thankful for my being there.

Maybe it's my midwestern upbringing, or my general lack of relgious particpation, but this effusive blessing and thanking was making me a little uncomfortable. I smiled and thanked her for the compliments and then continued with my day.

When it comes down it, I've had my share of blessings and prayers of thanks in my name. It is flattering and of course I like that I'm well regarded, but I don't like participating in other's religons. I don't mind people blessing me, but I think I would rather they didn't tell me.

The more I think it about it, I think it must be the midwestern upbringing.

The Ol' Switcheroo

2007-06-21T18:00:00.001-05:00

I guess I didn't realize how many times you get asked or told the same thing in this industry. It's kind of like being called "Shorty" when you're 6'10"... everyone thinks they are being funny.

For me, I get the "I was going to switch places with so and so and get his massage today!" and countless variations on that theme. The caregivers laugh and look to me and hope that I'll cave in and say "hop over to that couch and I'll massage you, too!" They know it won't happen, but you can tell that they hope one day they'll be wrong.

While, I never found those comments annoying, I did find them a bit baffling on how to respond... because my first thought is.. "Hop on to that couch and I'll give you a massage, too!" So instead, I laugh along with them and let the humor fill the room hopefully lightening their day a bit.

One of these days I want to find a way to bring massage to the caregivers of the dying as well. I think there may be an oppertunity for it to happen in the future, but as with everything in the health care industry, it's a logistical nightmare.

Until then, they'll have to resort to the Ol' switcheroo... though I haven't been fooled, yet.

Window of the Divine

2007-05-31T22:19:00.000-05:00

The sun shone in the window after a day of rain. The light gave vibrance to the vases of flowers, greeting cards and startched white linen sheets. No machines were beeping, no nurses were scurrying, and no one sat in the chair in the corner. Walking further into the room I saw her face turned toward the window awaiting the divine.

She used to be the hospice chaplin whose duty it was to bring spiritual guidance. I pictured her on the opposite side, sitting by the bed, holding the hand, watching the eyes of countless people looking in anticipation towards whatever it was that came next.

I held her hand softly and looked into her face. I could not help but wonder if her life as a pastor had prepared her for this moment. Would she get to go to the head of the line on at the gate?

Choices

2007-05-25T22:11:00.000-05:00

My boss stopped me in the hall to ask me a question. She said the foundation was looking for a way to do more for the hospice clients and their families. The idea was brought up to provide massage in some way for the primary care giver, and she wondered what I thought of this idea and if I could think of a way to implement it.

I'm initially excited by this idea. Admittedly, I am frustrated by my job right now and need some sort of change. The source of most of my frustration is that the three main clients that I see, don't talk. They barely acknowledge my existence. It's hard to convince yourself that they even know you are there and that they are benefiting for your service. In fact, one of them seems to wish I wasn't there, but she can't talk to tell me to buzz off, and she has such severe contractures that she can hardly move as it is. Although I give a lot of myself for this job without complaint, I am not completely selfless, I need to have some measure of progress.

In the last 6 months I have had these same three clients. There are no stories to tell about them because nothing changes, except maybe the room they are in or the color of the blanket on their bed. I have had new clients of course, but most of them have passed away with in a couple weeks, leaving me back with these three clients who are still with us despite the prediction that they would not be.

The thought of mixing the work with the caregivers seems like it would be a good way to bring some satisfaction to the job. I've been wanting to work with the caregivers since I started this job. They need massage just as much as the clients. I haven't figured out how it work, though. It would mean cutting back on my private practice, and I'm not willing to do that. So here I am left with a choice of being unhappy because one job is frusterating, or changing that job and being unhappy because I don't have time for my other clients.

I still have to think about this.