A few weeks back, right after being diagnosed with a terminal illness, the client asked me to be with her when she died. I promised I would do just that. I would be her "gate-keeper."
It is what I do. It's nothing heroic. It's not brave. It's what I do. I've had the opportunity to be with several clients as they transitioned from this world to the next. When people ask me about it--how can you be with someone who is dying?--I don't know how to answer them except to say "it's what I do" and that "it is an honor," as I fully believe it is the ultimate honor and it is something that I can do.
To hold someone's hand, to look into their eyes and convey that this is somehow okay, to say words of which they need to hear...it changes your life. They change my life by letting me be there. I can only hope my presence can somehow help their last moments be bearable, comfortable, peaceful.
The client died yesterday afternoon. I am relieved to report I was able to fulfill my promise. I was with her before, during and after her death. I was able to hold her hand and say the words of which she asked to hear. I asked for her hand and opened the gate. She did all the rest.
I am grateful for the opportunity she afforded me.
As she was dying much sooner (and faster) than had been anticipated, I had to alert a few of my co-workers of the pending event. I didn't want to get up and leave as it was pretty easy to tell we were getting close to the end and I had promised to be there when she passed away...yet, I had promised my peers to alert them of a change in status.....I would not leave....I could not leave....so, I apologized and pulled out my cell phone.
A friggin' cell phone! This lady is dying and I'm texting people!
I'm texting that she's dying WHILE she's dying. There is something very, VERY wrong with this. I wanted to throw up. I did not want to do this....yet, I didn't know how else to get ahold of the people who needed immediate contact. And so, although it was horrible, I did what I had to do and she knew I had to do it. I had to be true to my word while being true to my word and there was only one way to do it.
No one should have their final hours interrupted by texting. No one. For this, I say I am truly sorry.
Anyway, this is all too maudlin, so let me say a few happy words about this lady. You would have liked her. She earned recognition and respect, so I want to give it to her, if only through a few words in a tacky blog. She had a tough life. Mental illness is a cruel master. She lived with a mental illness that spared her nothing....and yet, she remained positive, helpful, friendly, determined.
She was a naughty tidbit,
full of vim and vigor,
a stranger to no one,
an addict of soda and chocolate.
You could easily make her day with a hello, a can of Pepsi and a box of Whoppers.
I'm sure she.gave her parents a run for the money.
She had friends. Long term friends, neighbor friends, agency friends, friend friends, stranger friends.
She always had a smile for everyone.
Bus driver, another client, the person taking her blood, a true stranger...always a smile.
She was always more concerned about others than herself.....
She's laying in bed dying and she is worried about other people.
She wanted to spare us, to comfort us, to reassure us.
She worried about all of us and always asked how we were doing.
If she had one milli-second of regret or doubt, I do not know of it.
She spent hours on end watching her two favorite TV shows. She was engrossed,
engaged, entertained.
She lived her life on her terms, despite being captive by mental illness.
She made friends with her captor.
After all, she had never met a stranger.
Even a captor could be a friend.
She had mental illness but she wasn't her mental illness. She was so much more.
In her honor, I ask you eat some Whoppers or drink some Pepsi (the real stuff, out of the can, please). She won't judge you for smoking a cigarette in her honor so you could do that, too...but, only if it's menthol...
That would tickle her pink.
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Godspeed to a very wonderful lady. Save a bar stool. You know what I mean.
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