Jenny Matlock has done it again, thrown us a slider. This week our assignment is to continue a previous Saturday Centus post - ours or someone else’s - with the usual 100 word limit. Her button is on my sidebar, so check it out. It’s a wonderful writing exercise, and for me this week, a great outlet for anger and frustration and pain.
I am continuing “What I did over my Summer Vacation.” My addition is in bold type. And yes, it is true.
What I did over my Summer Vacation
I went to Miami, not to vacation, but to see to my son, who was bitten by a Brown Recluse spider and nearly lost his hand. I got calls from the mental hospital where he went because he started hearing voices again.
I began my job with Hospice, and after two weeks, I was tossed from the high dive in to the deep end of the pool - ten patients for me to take over. I sweated and ministered and prayed and was prayed over. I did not drown. I’m still swimming and ready for whatever tomorrow brings.
I am grateful.
As my son heals and readjusts, the crippling heat in Georgia continues, and I spend my work days driving from house to house, seeing to my patients. The full moon brought a spate of deaths, most pain free and serene.
One, though, was an agonal and torturous leaving. Her children refused morphine, accused me of trying to kill her with it, insisted I not enter her room without an appointment.
The anguish on that woman’s face will never leave me. She was dead before we could make an appointment that suited her daughter.
She is at peace. And I’m grateful.
This post is linked to Saturday Centus.
Read more at The Red Sweater.
5 years ago
7 comments:
Powerful.
You must have the hardest job on earth. I'm just grateful there are people like you who are willing to do it...and often for very little appreciation.
Thanks.
=)
Oh, honey. That brings tears to my eyes. About the woman passing. Families sometimes just don't understand.
Tell me, honestly, how you like working hospice. I've thought of going back to work in such an area. I've got things to weigh, though, about my granddaughters, before I go back.
I keep forgetting you're right over there in Macon. Just a stone's throw from me.
Weezer
That really is sad that the woman's children wouldn't help their mother be without pain. I cannot imagine how hard it must be to know you can help someone and not be able to.
This just breaks my heart. That poor woman, at least she's at rest now. We are struggling with my Mom's battle with cancer right now. I just want her to fight and get well, but if that's not God's plan for her, I would not want her to be in pain. Bless your heart, you truly are an angel. Kat
This is awesome...and I want to tell you that I too have worked for Hospice, only as a volunteer. I sat with patients, helped them put their thoughts into letters for their families. It was very, very hard work and I didn't do it for very long. Bless you for being there for the families you serve.
Very touching and heartfelt, even moreso because it is true! I can't begin to understand the logic of someone withholding desperately needed pain medication. I can only hope that those that do find themselves in the same scenario some day.
Oh. Oh.
You must be an angel to be able to do the work you do.
To try and ease so much suffering and sorrow.
I am proud to know you.
And so happy you linked this story.
Thank you.
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