I spent several hours today sitting with dying. B, one of my hospice patients, who I've been visiting since January, is near death. She is only vaguely aware of my presence, but I am so acutely aware of hers. Sitting by her bedside, holding her hand, watching the rapid pulse at the base of her neck, listening to the ragged breaths, I think about her life. At 96 she has seen great changes, suffered tragic losses, celebrated wonderful moments. Her daughter remarked at one point, "It's like childbirth. There is suffering to bring life into the world and suffering to leave it."
Sitting with dying is alternatively challenging and calming. Sitting still, awkwardly leaning over a bed rail to hold a hand, makes your back ache. Listening to the labored breathing tempts you to hurry the process. At the same time, there can be a peace. The quiet words of reassurance, of compassion, of caring, resonate in your very soul. The shared stories, the tears, and even the laughs, remind you of the life you are living. Your focus narrows on the friend in the bed, but your heart feels open to the whole world.
No comments:
Post a Comment