3 years

I’ve been at Zen Hospice Project’s Guest House for 3 years now. I’ve given direct care to about 120 people in their last weeks and days of life. I’ve been bedside with 11 people as they took their final breath. I’ve bathed about 20 dead bodies. I’ve lead about 15 death rituals.

There is the vomit, the diarrhea, the rotting wounds, the pain, the turmoil, the challenging family dynamics, the grief, the fear. And there is the love. The love, the love, the love. The tenderness, the intimacy, the humor, the beauty, the compassion, the transformation, the honesty, the radical acceptance, the profound human connection, and the love. It is an immense honor to be with it all. I am deeply nourished by this work.

I have always found meaningful work in the world, but never have I felt with such passion and clarity that I have found my calling as I do caring for people at the end of life. I am filled with gratitude.

Elton John and Kiki Dee

I’m taking a break from formal published writings – busy semester.  Here instead is an after work ramble-release:
The CD player in my car is old and broken, and the only way I can listen to music in my car is on the radio. So I could only blast 70s classic rock, pop and disco on the radio on my way home tonight after an intense day at work. There’s something so sublime about the random radio tune that I haven’t thought of in years, decades even, a song so cheesy and evocative of an era, a song so bad that it can only be appreciated, beyond irony, after a weekend of caring for a woman who’s had so much pain she had to be palliatively sedated and is actively dying and having seizures all day, hands, feet and mouth turning purple, and spending hours talking with a man unable to accept that he can no longer get out of bed and helping him try many times so he can feel for himself his new limitation, feeling his body shaking and unbalanced, feeling his frustration and despair and denial, and listening to the Threshold Choir sing achingly tender songs to a dying woman and her family, and tending to the other residents in their own mortal processes, and all the running up and down stairs, and my toes cramping from being on my feet all weekend… and then this song on the radio, me belting out more lyrics than I knew that I knew of this ridiculous song, and then the ecstasy of the release of the human dramas of the weekend, letting them go with each simplistic lyric I sing out in my raw and slightly off-key voice as I am stuck in traffic on the bridge, the fog in shifting shades of rose and gray being overtaken by the rising dark of night, feeling the gratitude to be of service to people in these harrowing final moments, feeling the beauty and grief and joy and love and acceptance of the full cycle of life – singing this song:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQmRgFzg0jI

fulfillment

It’s been an intense 3 days at work. O the terrible family dramas, the extreme mental/emotional confusion and agitation, the physical pain and indignities, the agonizing dilemmas (and the sweet quiet moments too). I have no answers, no cures, no fixes for any of it, but I can face all of it directly, engage with it, embrace it with so much deep care and solidarity for our shared plight as human beings. Driving home this evening, I cried with gratitude for this work and for all the things that have happened in my life that have led me here. All the beauty and pain in my own life produced this skill set, strength and love that I get to put to good use every day that I’m at the Guest House. To accompany people in these raw moments of life and death is profoundly fulfilling.

Beautiful Human

A resident died at the Zen Hospice Guest House the other day who carried many divisive labels of race, gender, sexual orientation, country of origin and medical condition. I was aware of all the vitriol, stereotypes, violence and political prejudice that are attached to that person’s body as I tenderly bathed and changed them in their final weeks of life.

I did not get a chance to have any conversations with this person – they spoke another language primarily and they were pretty much unconscious all of the time I was with them. And so I do not know the stories they carried, what experiences they lived through, and yet I knew this person must have faced some very tough times. I found them to be extremely beautiful, even in their emaciated state from illness. Beautiful in their clear and vulnerable humanity and also just in their own unique self and their obvious strength. Aesthetically beautiful too – skin, bone structure, all gorgeous to my eyes.

I often felt a fervent wish that this person had experienced much love and appreciation for their beauty and their humanity. When they seemed somewhat conscious, I would stroke their forehead and call them “beautiful” in their language. In their semi-conscious state they would smile a bit or chuckle sweetly. I hope my love was truly received.

I watched every nurse and volunteer who attended this person give such love and respect to them, people of all kinds of backgrounds.   It was deeply heartening to see that love. I am so grateful to experience the very best of humanity in my work.

snapshot of my shift today

Just a brief note, full story to come soon:

Such an intense day at work. This morning a truly lovely 98 year old woman died as I sat alone with her, holding her hand, feeling her pulse give a final burst and then slowly quieting to nothing. Such sweetness, such an honor to share her final moments. And then being with the enormous grieving and confused community of friends and family of a young woman dying a pretty unpleasant death, her 2 school-age children, bright, earnest and sweet, massaging their dying mother’s hands. And all the rest of the day, much love and connection, appreciation, sadness, laundry, cookies and changing incontinence briefs. I am fulfilled.