**Disclaimer: this is a pretty depressing post, but it's what's going on in my life and what's in my head right now.**
I used to think that cemeteries, funeral homes, and hospitals were the saddest places in the whole world. And while I still think they're pretty depressing, my views have changed slightly.
For instance, cemeteries and funeral homes can give you a place to make your peace with the deceased, reflect, and remember and celebrate that person's life. Their personality. Your memories with them. And in a sunny day, cemeteries really aren't that bad.
Hospitals usually make me think of sickness. The sterile environment, those stark white walls, and all those machines beeping and humming kind of creep me out and make me uncomfortable. However if you think about it, that's the place people go to get treatment. It's where they go to get well/better. It's where life is given. And when you think of it that way, it's not so terrible either.
There are many depressing places, but the absolute saddest place in the world that I've personally experienced are hospices. Have you ever been in a hospice? They're so... Quiet. And not a peaceful, calm quiet; more like an anticipatory quiet. A stillness. A held breath. Waiting for your loved one to gasp their last breath. To pass, as comfortably as possible.
It's a place where people go to die.
My great aunt Dora has been in a hospice for 16 days now. She was frail to begin, having had several small strokes. And then her sister/best friend/roommate Octulia got cancer and she took care of her as long as she could before finally calling in an aid. Octulia went rather quickly, but fairly painlessly. Dora was heartbroken. She had said while her sister was sick that her sole purpose for living was to take care of her.
Four weeks later, Dora suffered another stroke, and refused treatment. She was in the hospital for 4 days before being transferred to a hospice. She doesn't eat, not even through an IV. The only fluids entering her system are sodium chloride and her regular blood pressure medicine. She gets shots of morphine to ease the pain every 6 hours and "as necessary."
I first went to visit her with my mom a few days after she was transferred. I was nervous because Dora had always been such a spitfire. Nobody bossed her around- she would just tell them where to stick it! She never took no for an answer, whether it came to taking shots with her or helping her with something. She was physically and emotionally strong and stubborn as a mule, but also had a heart of gold and always put others before herself, even when she wasn't feeling well. I was nervous about seeing her in any other state than as I knew her.
As nervous as I was, having my mom there definitely helped. My mom is a natural caretaker. Sometimes I think she should have been a nurse or some profession similar. She somehow knows just what to say to make you feel better, and was even able to joke with her, even though Dora couldn't physically speak. You could see her trying to speak and smile. Dora was alert. She knew who we were. Her eyes opened and focused on whoever was speaking, even when we weren't speaking directly to her. She perked when we mentioned Octulia, and moaned grievously anytime anyone even mentioned the word "medicine."
As much of a natural my mom is, I am the exact opposite. I get incredibly awkward and never know what to say, but I tried to follow my mom's lead. Dora tried to kiss back when I kissed her forehead, and grasped my hand (she certainly didn't lose her grip!) and didn't want to let go even when the nurse came to clean her and tuck her in.
I had a pre-planned week long vacation, and was taking off 2 days after I visited her. I thought for sure she would be gone by the time I came back, but she's still fighting. I went to visit her again last night. This time I went by myself, since my mom was still at work. Her niece was there. (She hasn't been left alone at all while she's been there; relatives, including my mom, have been tag-teaming and taking turns staying overnight, etc. so someone is there 24/7.)
She is so much weaker. She stills holds my hand, but there's no strength left. Her eyes barely open, it's just too much for her. I honestly don't know if she knew I was there or not. But the worst part, other than looking so frail, was that she looked like she was in a lot of pain. And I couldn't do anything for her.
I just want her to be comfortable, and at peace. So if it's your thing, could you please send some prayers this way? And if not, positive vibes are welcome as well.
