We Gave Her Exactly What She Wanted

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.