Death and Dying

So today I had to work my weekend at a hospital close to my hometown.  For those of you that don't know, I'm an occupational therapist and I sincerely take pride in my work.  I love to help people, making a difference makes all the years (and loan debt) I put into my college education worth it.




I had three patient's on the PCU wing this morning.  PCU=Hospice. So, what is an occupational therapist's role on a hospice unit you ask?  Well, your guess is as good as mine.  The scope of our practice is usually centered around getting people back to their prior level of functioning.  As we know, hospice care is mostly for people at the last days of their lives.

Anyway, I'm going off on tangents, far from the point I'm trying to make.  Today, I had a gentleman on the hospice unit that is actively dying.  He's older, sick, and honestly it takes all of my emotional energy to go into his room and treat him.  His wife was present today, and she is not at all what I expected.  She is young, vibrant...beautiful.  She was dressed in classy clothes and stood by his bedside, careful that we were treating her husband the way that he deserved to be treated.  As she was holding his hand, talking to us about how long they have been married (53 years) and I was carefully administering retrograde massage to his upper extremities, something hit me. It was a sense of happiness for this man, a sincere joy rather than the sorrow and pity that normally goes hand-in-hand with someone in his deteriorated state.   I know this seems strange...as he lay there weezing, unable to respond to anything we asked him.  But,you see,  he's one of the lucky ones.  He is loved. His family is always there, his grandchildren making him cards and various presents to brighten his day.  His marriage is successful.  He has a lot to be proud of, to celebrate and be happy for.

Later on, I attended a local "Light the Night" walk--a fundraiser and campaign to raise money for Luekemia and Lymphoma.  A young 9-year old boy went up on the stage and to the microphone prior to the start of the walk.  While his father held out paper's for him to read off of, words that told his story, tears flooded my eyes, my throat became dry and thick, and I couldn't hold in my grief.  This young boy told a story of his battle with cancer, his long hospital stays, his good times and his bad, and his news of remission.  He made us all laugh and he made us all cry.  He's a survivor.  His story touched my heart, he being far more amazing and strong at such a young age than I will ever be. I realized I could learn a lot from him.

I don't know. I just really wanted to share these stories with you all, take a step away from fan fiction and our day-to-day stressors and think about how very lucky we are.  Working with Hospice patients cane be tough, but it also helps me to put my own life into perspective. 

Thanks for listening and have a good week! :-)