The Beauty of Hospice

Last month, a few days after Valentine's Day, I was in my living room taking down my Valentine's Day decorations and putting up by St. Patrick's Day decorations when I got a call from my mom. She said that my grandmother had had a stroke and to wait for further information. So, I sat. And I paced. And I wanted to sit down and make a packing list, but I didn't want to assume the worst.

A few hours later, while I was making dinner, my mom called again to tell me I needed to head to Northern Kentucky the next morning. So, I fed my husband and began packing. For someone who is usually so methodical about packing, I felt like a schizophrenic. I had jeans, tshirts, yoga pants, sweaters, dress clothes all jumbled up together in my suitcase. Instead of my normal teal American Tourister carry-on, I packed my medium sized suitcase so I wouldn't have to bother with space saving packing techniques. All of that takes time and I did not have time.

To make matters more complicated, we had no idea how long I would be gone or when or if my husband would join me. He had a business trip early the next week and I had to account for that as I was gathering his clothes for the suitcase.

Luckily, it was a Monday night, so my laundry was done and I had just given the house its weekly cleaning, so I didn't feel stressed about leaving the house in disarray.

I'm not sure what time I finally fell asleep that night, but I know I didn't get much sleep.

The next morning, I got in my car to take the longest road trip ever. It was only 4 1/2 hours, but it felt longer than our 13 hour road trips to Miami or Kitty Hawk. I had downloaded a lot of podcasts and books to listen to. Music is not my friend when I am upset because it lets my mind wander. Audio books and podcasts keep my brain busy.

As I crossed into Boone County, Kentucky, I pulled off at a rest area because it had struck me a few miles before that I had no idea where I was going. I had been given the directive to get to Northern Kentucky, but I had no idea where Grandma was.

After a few calls, I ascertained she was being moved to a hospice facility and I should go there.

When I pulled into a parking lot, an ambulance was unloading a patient that turned out to be Grandma. Nervous, I wanted to wait for my parents to go in, but the woman at the information desk told me my uncle was alone and I didn't want to leave him alone longer than was necessary, so I headed back.

I would go on to spend most of the next 25 hours at Grandma's bedside. We gathered around her, telling stories and laughing, having sad moments as each person who left her said what would probably be goodbye.

When the topic came up of who would be staying overnight, I knew that my uncle could not do a second night, that my other uncle needed his rest because his health isn't terrific and that my mom needed to be able to hook up her breathing machine, which would be difficult in a hospice, so I volunteered. My brother then volunteered to stay with me. So, our family went to eat dinner and I went to check into my hotel and drop off my suitcases and pack for the night.

We got back to the hospice a couple of hours later and everyone cleared out around 8:45. A few minutes later, our cousin came in and we spent the next three hours telling stories and laughing some more. Around midnight, our cousin said her goodbyes to Grandma and went home to rest.

Ben and I hunkered down on the most uncomfortable pullouts ever made and got restless sleep. For a few hours, the appearance of the nurses would wake us up and we would re-adjust on the bed or go to the bathroom. Sometime around 3:30, I fell asleep for a good hour, but woke up with a start. I couldn't hear Grandma breathing. I sat up and saw that she was still breathing and decided to sit in the recliner for the rest of the night. I tucked my Kindle, water and cell phone in around me with some pillows to cushion me and kept vigil.

I dozed off a few times, but when I woke, I could see her, talk to her and go back to sleep easily. She seemed to get upset if she didn't hear Ben or I for a long time, so when I would wake up, I would tell her we were still there with her and she wasn't alone.

Around 8 the next morning, my dad came in to relieve me. The plan was that I could go back to the hotel to rest and clean up. Then, when my uncle arrived, my dad would take my brother back to Grandma's house to rest and clean up while Dad took Mom back to the hospice. Then I would pick up Ben and go back to hospice.

I had been gone for about an hour when Mom called. By then, I had eaten breakfast at the hotel, taken a shower and had decided to get ready to go before I laid down to nap. I wanted to be ready if I needed to go quickly. Mom told me they had just checked Grandma's vitals and her blood pressure had dropped far. Dad was on his way back with Ben and then Mom would take their car to go back up to the hospice and I needed to hurry up to come back to get Dad and Ben after they had showered.

So, twenty minutes later, with still wet hair, I headed back out.

When we got to the hospice, Grandma's breathing had changed dramatically. We sat closer to her and still told stories, with a lot less laughing, but we wanted to make sure she knew she wasn't alone.

Her last hours went so fast, and so slow. We sat at her bedside, holding her hands, watching her breathing become slower, counting seconds between her breaths, while crying. Time seemed to stand still, but those last minutes with her will still ticking by too quickly.

At some point, my brother couldn't handle it any more and left the room. Dad followed him quickly and I stayed with Mom. When my other uncle arrived, I told Grandma I loved her, and left the room to sit with Ben, while Dad sat with Mom.

Not even ten minutes later, she was gone.

I was lucky.

I was lucky to have my grandmother in my life for almost 36 years. I was lucky she was so strong and was such a loving figure in my life. I was lucky to experience such a special kind of love from my grandma. And I was lucky I was able to be with my family, despite living hundreds of miles away, when that sweet, silly, amazing woman left Earth.

When you hear that someone has gone to hospice, it always carries such an ominous feeling. Hospice means death.

But if you have experienced a loved one going to hospice, it isn't like that. Hospice is the most serene, calming, comforting place for the family of the person in hospice. The nurses who work in hospice are angels here on Earth. Their job is so layered. They take sweet, respectful and loving care of the patients who are dying. But they also love and support the families of the patients, whose worlds are crumbling.

After having experienced hospice with a loved one twice, I understand the ministry of hospice more than I ever thought I would. To be a loving, safe, calm environment for all who enter.

Have you ever been with a loved one as they were dying? Have you experienced hospice?

#family #hospice #losingalovedone #deathandfamily