I was a Registered Nurse for almost 40 years, the final 14 of I was a hospice nurse. Here are some tme stories about the last few minutes of some clients' lives.
A client who had been estranged from his son for over twenty years. I never found out why they had fought. A week before the client passed, he called his son and convinced him to come. They made peace and tearfully embraced. After the embrace, while the son was in the restroom, the client passed away. When the son returned, he was inconsolable. He climbed into bed with his father and wept. 'Why did I wait so long?' he cried out. Love, too late Many of my clients or their spouses had dementia. A man named Ned asked to have his wife brought to his room. Our hospice paid for a wheelchair ambulance to bring the man's wife from her dementia facility. She sat silently in his room as he spoke words of love to her. He smiled as he gazed at her. Just before Ned died, he whispered, 'Goodbye, Thelma,' and closed his eyes. Thelma remained silent, but tears began to flow from her eyes. Love, despite dementia Before becoming a hospice nurse, I was terrified of dogs. Many of my home clients had dogs, and I asked families to cage them. A blind client had a companion dog. The family explained the emotional attachment between seeing-eye dogs and their clients. They pleaded to let the dog stay in the client’s room.
As I worked with the client, I prayed for courage. At first, I panicked when Fritzie, the dog, entered the room, but I slowly became used to her.
When that man died, Fritzie knew before I did. I heard Fritzie whimper as she buried her head in her master's shoulder. I realized he had died and pronounced him dead. I then went to the living room to tell his family.
As I walked back into the room, Fritzie lifted her head. She looked at me, and - for the first time, I wasn't afraid. Fritzie began to lick my hand. Spontaneously, I hugged her.
I have not been afraid of dogs since that day.
Love, through animals A dying client in Cleveland, Ohio, lived with her five daughters. I was called when the family believed she was close to death. When I walked into the room, I immediately realized she was very close to going to heaven. One of the women - Sylvia - smiled at me when I told them. 'You're a believer, aren't you, sweetie?” I told them I was. She smiled again and asked her sisters to gather around the dying woman's bed. She asked me: 'Please, help us sing Martha home, sister.'
I spent the next fifteen minutes singing songs of praise with those sisters as I carefully watched Martha's condition. When I realized Martha had passed, I told the sisters. Sylvia was full of joy. 'Sisters!' She shouted, 'Martha is home! Hallelujah!'
The sisters continued to sing God's praises. When I left after another half hour, they hadn't stopped. Someday, I know I will see those ladies in the heavenly choir.
Love, victoriously rejoicing. The last story is my own. My daughter, Larisa, passed away when she was 23. She had leukemia. I hadn't met any hospice nurses before that time, so I experienced hospice care for the first time as a family member of a dying patient. I don't think I would have emotionally survived the last few weeks of Larisa's life without the support of those hospice nurses. Larisa's younger sister (my other daughter) would not have survived without them.
Ten years after Larisa's death, I wanted to honor her life in some way. After praying about it, I decided to work as a hospice nurse for a year - in Larisa's honor. I could give back some of God's blessings that the hospice nurses had given me during Larisa's last days.
That's how my work in hospice began. But I came to realize - within a few months - that hospice nursing was the specialty God had called me to. I was a hospice nurse for nine years, and every client I worked with was a gift from God. I am grateful God allowed me to be present for each precious soul who allowed me into their rooms on the days they went to see Him.
Love, in remembrance