Thursday, June 30, 2011

mama said, they'll be weeks like this.

is your job hard? they ask. yes, but i love my job. but... there are weeks that are harder than others. much, much harder. 

we lost patients last week; quickly and somewhat unexpectedly (faster than we thought-- though our time is not god's time). i had spent 2 fridays ago (the week before one death) with the patient's wife, explaining to her that a bone scan, after a simple ankle fracture, had shown cancer throughout her husband's entire body. she was in shock, and went into immediate denial, saying he needed to get up! walk! get physical therapy! and he would be ok! he has to be ok! ...she was hysterical. in her bathroom, i sadly explained to her that he could no longer get up. it was safer he stay in bed, but that we would care for him, and for her. he died early last week. 

the same morning, i heard of the death of another patient that i had not received any word that he was "close" to death. this puzzled me. something wasn't right. the man was very careful about his care and medications; and, at my assessments, voiced that he was accepting of his prognosis until his time was done. when our nurse arrived at his home, there he was; there was a syringe; an empty bottle of morphine; and there was a note. at least 5 professionals, including myself, trained in risks and warnings, and experienced in all that entails never. saw. it. coming. i lost it. i screamed at myself I should have seen something. this is my job. this is not the first time i have been the last to see someone alive before such a tragedy, but it never, ever gets easier. it never becomes ok. it's never really understandable. just as natural death never gets easier. i consoled myself that my assessments and the paperwork were all right and consistent, and there were no signs. 

but beyond the paperwork, i thought, what was going on in this man's mind? was this his intention all along and we just were just pawns or enablers? what was his inner struggle that he couldn't wait to let go in the end? where did he place his hope? did he even have hope? what were his last thoughts when he woke up that morning? could anyone (on earth) have saved him? 

he had an inner battle raging that no one could understand. 

needless to say, i have fallen to my knees about this a lot recently. lord, this is more than i know what to do with my earthly knowledge, but i know you are in control. be with me and these souls that i watch leave this world. give me the knowledge, the insight, the compassion, the love. 

the words, of "unredeemed" have spoken to my heart recently. i love selah, by the way. a "life that gave up hope..." followed by the chorus of "life breaks and falls apart, but we know these are places where grace is soon to be so amazing. it may be unfulfilled. it may be unrestored. but when anything that's shattered is laid before the lord, just watch and see,  it will not be unredeemed." speechless.