Patients as Teachers

Patients are often my best teachers. Many years ago, as a young idealistic nurse, a 40 year old  man named Richard taught me more than any professor could have about embracing mortality.  He was admitted to the neurology unit for diagnostic tests due to persistent, but vague symptoms.  During the night shift prior to his exam he asked me to call a priest before he was taken to the operating room. 

He explained to the priest and me that he felt he was going to die from the procedure.  We tried to reassure him, but he calmly said "I want to be prepared to face the music".  He talked about how hard it would be for his family, that he didn't want to leave them, but he just had a gut-level feeling that he couldn't ignore.

During the procedure a massive brain tumor was diagnosed, requiring emergency surgery.  He died several weeks later, at the start of my night shift. He never fully regained consciousness.

I wrote the following poem shortly after his death and have continued to be influenced by the lesson I learned from him: listen to the message--no matter where you think it comes from. 

When we face the fact that we will die, instead of avoid admitting that, we can learn more about our lives and  that can allow us opportunities to prepare ourselves and others.


Music


The night before surgery
You told me
My heart knows I need to
To face the music


Life just unfolding
Wife and kids
Hopes and dreams
Music to your ears


I am a new nurse
A young bride
Dreaming of longevity
And happy endings


Now you are dying
You know and I know
Though we speak
without words


I want to run
Not death, not now
Not like this
I am not ready 


Hand in hand
Death claims you
The warmth of your hand
Lingers on mine


I have not broken news like this before
Your family arrives
Our tears flow
I no longer want to run 

Pet Loss: Good-bye Dear Jake

It is good to be back in Michigan!  In December Peter and I  loaded Jake, our 15 yr old Lab/Shepard mix, in  the car and drove to our new winter home: Tucson, AZ. 

We were concerned about Jake's comfort and ability to make the trip, but he tolerated it well and seemed revived soaking up the sun in our new yard. 

It was hard to watch him lose the strength to get in the car, the ability to manage stairs, the comfort of being around other animals.  As his senses faded his anxiety escalated.

Our vet helped us assess his  condition and needs.  We had hoped he could make it back to Michigan, but by April we knew it was time to euthanize him.

We have had other pets euthanized--it is never an easy decision.

The reason I decided to write about Jake's death here is this:  Reactions to the loss of a beloved pet is  as multi-faceted as any other loss.  Everyone is entitled to view their animals, and the loss of them, however they want.   I caution you though to not make assumptions about what that loss is like for others.

Some of the comments people made when Jake died offended me.  Really, really offended me.  Some of them were made by the professionals who were assisting us with the process, some by friends.  

Here are some examples:

---Referring to Jake as my "child".  NO...he was my loved and valued pet.  He did not come close to being in the same category as my child. 
--Questioning our decision to euthanize--some thought we waited too long, others thought we were too hasty.  It is not their business, unless their opinion has been requested.
--Telling us their personal stories of pet loss (often the re-telling  proved traumatic for the person and they would then need comforting).  In the midst of trying to make the right decision no one needs to have things complicated by a tearful story.

Pet loss, like other grief, is a personal journey.  Let the person take the lead in conversations.  Listen.  Listen well. 

We were lucky to have many, many people do just that.  Let us guide the conversations. 

I especially want to thank Dr. Lee Fike (Tucson) http://www.leefike.com/ : thank you for your compassion, wisdom, guidance and  patience. Your  method  of euthanizing in stages allowed us the opportunity to see Jake at peace to be able say good-bye in our home, as we listened to music that comforted us. Thanks also to our dear friend Helen Costa (Ann Arbor) who was always just an email away, willing to answer questions and help us explore options. And, many others who said just the right thing, at the right time.

Today we will spread Jake's ashes in Michigan and celebrate his awesome, sweet spirit.

I am glad he is home.