Archive for Grief

How Long Have You Been Playing?

At the net

A man and a woman were several courts over… [Photo Credit: Getty IMages/Tim Clayton]

In hospice, time rules.

A hospital’s old-fashioned wall clock’s blood-red second hand seems to circle faster than a Daytona racecar. Or in the dark of the darkest night at home, a blue, glowing digital number blinks from one second to another with an agonizing sluggishness. Time roars by. Time grinds to a halt. Time marches on. Time freezes. Time is our friend. Time is our adversary. Time never stops. It’s never the right time.

  • How long will it take for her to die? I don’t want Grammy to suffer anymore.
  • The doctor said Daddy has six months or less to live. Is that true?
  • This grief is horrible, and I can’t sleep or eat. How long before I’m “normal” again?
  • Some friends don’t like to spend time with me because I still want to talk about my spouse. And it’s only been a year since the death.
  • My boss gave me two weeks off for bereavement, but will I ever be ready to return to my desk?
  • Who can grieve with so much work to do? (And if I keep working all of the time, I can avoid my feelings.)

*          *          *

Many years ago, I headed to the public tennis courts to play a few sets with a buddy. Though early in the morning, we weren’t the only ones there. A man and woman were several courts over, already deep into a match. As my friend and I warmed up, we heard the other players announce the score after each winning shot, saw them protect the net or drift back for lobs. It looked like an equal contest and I wouldn’t want to bet against the woman or the man. I was impressed, more than a little awed by their skill and energy. Both were obviously in their seventies. Read More →

Facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmailby feather

Everyone (mostly) Needs Help

According to the social worker’s earliest notes on the medical chart, the patient’s son didn’t want any grief support after his father died.

The nurse who’d cared for his father echoed those sentiments when the family was discussed in the hospice team meeting. Since the patient—the father—had been in our hospice’s care for several months, there had been multiple visits by the social worker, nurse, and chaplain. All agreed the son said (before and at the time of death) that he was okay. Additionally, the son’s cousin—more like a trusted friend since childhood—happened to be one of our hospice nurses.

This cousin/nurse affirmed what others concluded: the son had shared he didn’t need additional bereavement support after his father’s death.

He.

Was.

Fine.

But the cousin, my hospice colleague, also said to me, and to the social worker who’d write the official chart notes, that the son should be contacted anyway.

“Give him a call,” the cousin/nurse said. Read More →

Facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmailby feather

Hospice is Far from Perfect

My finger reached for the first number to press on the phone’s keypad.

I hesitated. I silently prayed.

Since starting at my hospice job in 2012, I’ve averaged maybe fifty weekly bereavement phone calls, which means about 200 families per month. You can do the math . . . I’ve logged considerable phone time over the years! Some calls occur mere days after patients have died. Others are close to the one-year anniversary of the parent or child or spouse’s death. Because of my access to confidential patient information, and talking with the chaplains, social workers and nurses, I know details about a patient’s dying and the family’s reactions. In a few moments at a computer, I’ll read about conflicts between siblings, a spouse’s fears and—if I choose to scrutinize the medical charts—even what happened on the twelfth visit by the home health aide. Read More →

Facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmailby feather