death becomes us
When my grandfather, an amazingly soulful and humanistic man, was on his deathbed, I was there with him. I had never seen him so helpless; he was an incredible rabbi full of life and idealism. I was sitting in the hospital reading The Red Tent to him and after days of unresponsiveness, he opened his eyes, turned to me, and we had a conversation.
My grandpa: Jilly
Me: Yes Gags?
G: What year is it?
Me: It's 2001.
G: Am I dying?
Me: I think so.
G: You need to do this for a living.
Me: What, make books on tape?
G (in full rabbi mode): No...help people die. It can be a very spiritual and beautiful transition, but many people are scared of it. They need to know that it doesn't have to be scary.
Me: You're not scared?
G: No, you're here.
Me: I can't go with you though.
G: There's someone on the other side who will do what you're doing here.
Me: (speechless)
G: Do this for a living. Promise me.
Me: Ok, I promise.
Soon after that conversation he died, and of course I had no choice but to keep my promise or I figured lightning would strike me or something. Several years later as a nursing student I lost a few patients and decided that people being born were way more fun (and smelled better) than people dying.
Then last semester I was working in oncology at the VA. I had a patient on the palliative care floor who was in the same state of consciousness as my grandpa. His wife and I spent a significant amount of time talking as we stood on either side of him, supporting him, because standing up was the only way he could breathe and sleep. At one point he came out of his comatose state and told me he was so glad I was there with him. He died the next night, after I begged someone relentlessly to put him into terminal sedation (she did).
I think there can be something so beautiful and peaceful about death. I also think that some higher power puts us in places at the right time just to show us our worth or puts things into perspective or just let us have a special experience. We can't save people who are meant to die...not even with CPR. But if we can be with them during their last moments and lend a hand, read to them, make them comfortable, make them warm with a blanket, talk to them, make sure they know they're not alone...what better gift is there for anyone involved?
As I was writing this blog, there was a Dr. Heart on 4 South. May that patient rest in peace, and may they have had a caring person at their side helping them go.
My grandpa: Jilly
Me: Yes Gags?
G: What year is it?
Me: It's 2001.
G: Am I dying?
Me: I think so.
G: You need to do this for a living.
Me: What, make books on tape?
G (in full rabbi mode): No...help people die. It can be a very spiritual and beautiful transition, but many people are scared of it. They need to know that it doesn't have to be scary.
Me: You're not scared?
G: No, you're here.
Me: I can't go with you though.
G: There's someone on the other side who will do what you're doing here.
Me: (speechless)
G: Do this for a living. Promise me.
Me: Ok, I promise.
Soon after that conversation he died, and of course I had no choice but to keep my promise or I figured lightning would strike me or something. Several years later as a nursing student I lost a few patients and decided that people being born were way more fun (and smelled better) than people dying.
Then last semester I was working in oncology at the VA. I had a patient on the palliative care floor who was in the same state of consciousness as my grandpa. His wife and I spent a significant amount of time talking as we stood on either side of him, supporting him, because standing up was the only way he could breathe and sleep. At one point he came out of his comatose state and told me he was so glad I was there with him. He died the next night, after I begged someone relentlessly to put him into terminal sedation (she did).
I think there can be something so beautiful and peaceful about death. I also think that some higher power puts us in places at the right time just to show us our worth or puts things into perspective or just let us have a special experience. We can't save people who are meant to die...not even with CPR. But if we can be with them during their last moments and lend a hand, read to them, make them comfortable, make them warm with a blanket, talk to them, make sure they know they're not alone...what better gift is there for anyone involved?
As I was writing this blog, there was a Dr. Heart on 4 South. May that patient rest in peace, and may they have had a caring person at their side helping them go.
posted by jill at 02:04
3 Comments:
Thanks Jill, for last night and the blog. Talk to you soon.
Your depiction of death seems to focus on the hospice-type death that takes people out of a painful, protracted illness. It's not always like that. When a teenager with a freshly printed license fucks up and crosses the double yellow and wipes out himself and a family of four, that's not peaceful or reasonable, especially to those left behind.
my life focuses on hospice-type deaths, not unfortunate victims of teenagers. true, your scenario isn't peaceful or reasonable, but still, let's hope someone is there with those people too to help them on their journey.
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