Life's not fair...

Long Monday...

This morning, I went to see a new admit. She was another nun from the same convent as the woman who just revoked our services. This pt was found unconscious due to seizures and rapidly declined thereafter. She went from alive and well to actively dying in only a matter of a few days... she also bit her tongue multiple times while seizing, which I can attest to after meeting her today (she didn't seize during our visit, but I saw the sores and scabs covering her tongue...)

The pt was unresponsive. There was a nun sitting at the foot of her bed, quietly watching as her fellow sister rested. I must admit, I would have much rather it been just the pt and I. It's not the pts that seem to make me nervous... it's the caregivers, family, and friends. But anyway, I introduced myself, and asked if it was alright if I played some music. She told me that the pt really enjoys music and that she's sure the pt would love it. I played, of course, Amazing Grace, and Peace Like A River. Yes, the songs are easy to sing and play on guitar, but, they're both really pretty songs that I find very relaxing, so even though I feel like a broken record when I type my blog every night, it never feels repetitive during my visits. In a way, it's always like the first time I sang the song... it somehow becomes renewed in the moment... but anyway, after I finished singing Peace Like A River, I knew that I didn't have any other simple spiritual songs in my memory bank. It was time to reveal all those Christian songs I copied from the MT's fake book the other week. One by one, I played through the songs, picking out the ones that sounded the most Catholic and the most Ordinary Time appropriate.

Once I reached the chorus of How Great Thou Art, I heard a small voice behind me join in. I turned around to find not one, but seven nuns behind me, some standing, some sitting, just listening to the music and being part of the moment. WHEN DID THEY GET HERE?? Thank goodness I didn't know they were there, or else I really would've been nervous! Hopefully I was able to confine my sense of shock to only my inner self, and not to my facial expression. I continued to sing as I smiled, acknowledging the presence of the flock of nuns behind me.

The more I sang, the more comfortable I felt. By the time our visit came to an end, I was even glad that the other sisters were there to hear the music. Not only was it good for them to benefit from the music and that special moment with the pt, but also, not a bad way to advocate for MTx and our company! ;-) Unfortunately, I just missed the pt's family. Just as I was walking out the door, about 8 family members came strolling through the door to see the pt. I can't believe I was actually disappointed that they missed the music! At that point, I was on this high from playing that I wanted everyone the pt knew to come and listen! Okay, maybe I got a bit too confident there...

My next stop was a SNF near the office. We have three pts there. All male, and all with some form of dementia. One of the workers was very kind, and helped me track down my three pts (I shamefully could not remember what they looked like, even though I've seen them 3 or 4 times by now...) One was in the side room, just sitting in his wheelchair, in a row of 5 other pts. They were all just sitting, staring, sleeping, rocking... the second pt was in the back dining room where the aide who gave me the boot off piano last time was doing her daily quiz of "What day of the week is it?" The third pt was asleep in his room.

I began with the pt chilling out with his fellow idlers. I knelt down in front of him and began singing some traditional songs. Initially, he stared at the floor and would not look at me. Eventually, he began to look around and change facial expressions. I finally was able to make eye contact with him, to the point where we locked stares and smiled at each other. Once the eye contact wore off, he began fiddling with his neighbor's pillow and shoes (there must be something about dementia pt's and their neighbor's shoes...) I offered my songbook to him to help distract him from bothering his neighbor (who was asleep and completely defenseless) and to keep the pt focused on the music and myself. He grabbed the songbook and held it firmly, upside down. I flipped it right side up for him, and asked him to choose a song. As I pointed to a song on one of the pages, I noticed his silver chained medical ID bracelet. It resembled my own bracelet, so I decided to point it out. "Look! Our bracelets match! How 'bout that?" The pt grabbed a hold of my wrist, and began to finger my bracelet. He then started turning my wrist, left, then right, left, then right. Yes. My wrist can turn. Wow. Now let go of me!!! I tried to stay calm and keep smiling, but really I was just afraid he wasn't going to let go, or he was going to turn my wrist too far. He had quite a firm grasp on me, and I couldn't quite pry myself free. Finally, he let go and went back to focusing on the songbook in his lap. Hooray!

The aide asked if it was alright if they moved him to the dining area and that we continue in there with the other pts. I agreed, and the two of us joined pt #2 in the dining room. I asked pt #1 to pick a song out of the songbook for the group to sing, and he flipped the page to a song I didn't know. Figures. I took my songbook back and graciously thanked him for choosing a song. (I know. Indian giver.) We sang (I sang) Blue Skies and Five Foot Two. Then I moved over to pt #2 and sang by his side for awhile. When I first saw him, I said hello, and he smiled and nodded his head to me, but when I went to sing next to him, he seemed a bit agitated and suspicious, like, "Why is this girl next to me... singing... with a guitar... what is she going to do to me?..." I hoped that he would would eventually be set at ease by my naturally sweet approachable personality (ha) but I don't think he ever did.

Just in time for the last few songs, the aide wheeled in our sleepy pt #3. And so, the gang's all here, at one table, ready to eat some lunch, and listening to music. I always think it's so cute when we have multiple pts at a facility and they hang out together. :)

My last visit of the day was one of the most difficult. Although the session went great and actually was a lot of fun, the reality of the situation is one that'll rip your heart out, throw it on the ground, then stomp it to pieces. The pt is a 40yr old cop, with a beautiful, kind wife, and two adorable little boys, ages 6 and 9. They are a lovely Mexican family, and all have Spanish accents - even the little kiddies, which I think is so cute! The MT scheduled the session for the kids, so we can help them through this time in their lives and to express the emotions they may be experiencing because of it. Today's session was more of a get-to-know-you kind of session, so we didn't delve into anything too deep. We merely introduced the kids to some instruments, the MT taught some simple African songs and led some drumming exercises, we played some piano, and really just talked to them and got to know them. Did I mention how cute they are? The older boy wasn't feeling well and took a sick-day from school, so he left in the middle of the session (poor kid!), but the younger boy was full of energy. When we first introduced ourselves, the MT asked, through a hello song, how the boy was doing today. He answered, "Good" with a big smile and a cute little giggle. That really got me. This little kid is so happy, while his dad is walking around the house in his PJs, weakened by his disease, with a catheter hanging on his hip. How am I supposed to help this kid accept his father's dying process if I don't even want him to know? He's so innocent and happy. Why does this innocent, happy little boy have to have his father die? He's only 6 years old! But hey, life's not fair, right?...

There has yet to be any moment during my internship where I couldn't control my emotions or was so affected by a situation that I wasn't able to remain professional, but today... this family... just thinking about it... everyone knows that there are kids who lose their parents at a young age... but now I have ingrained in my head two adorable little faces, and the face of a very saddened wife, to put to this reality...

Working in hospice can be wonderful, but the pain and difficulties are so subtle that sometimes they sneak up on you, or pile up undetected, until one day they just all spill over...