Miscellaneous Musings

I recently had the opportunity to go shopping. While the shopping part was not unique, the companions were. One of the companions is a dear friend that has been under hospice care since I’ve known him. The other is a newer friend. On a beautiful day, we rolled down the windows on my Jeep and hit the town. Accompanying the flood of sunshine, was a flood of memories. My mom made the decision to end her chemo treatment while in the hospital, having liters of fluid removed from her lungs. She didn’t need to be told that the fluid meant …

I blew it. I knew I did and I didn’t know how to recover. A friend’s mom was very quickly declining and she reached out to me forsupport. Physical distance prohibited me from leaning into the situation like Iusually would. Typically, for me, a call for help is a call to action. I knowwhat to do, who to talk to and what to say. This time it was different. The “call” for help came via text messagefrom someone outside of my service area. We exchanged a few text messages, Ioffered some insight, some advice and that was it. Within a …

For as long as I can remember, I am frequently visited by a now familiar occurrence at night. Her name is insomnia. Last night she came. She brought me a slow-motion replay of the past week. It was one of those weeks that is deep. Good and bad deep. On Tuesday, I traveled to Denver for my semi-annual infusion to ward off the progression of a disease that I have gotten to know too well over the past 5 years. My infusion evokes feelings of deep gratitude. Gratitude for a medicine that works so well against multiple sclerosis. Gratitude for …

Just like the season is changing, my clients are also changing slightly.I’ve gone from intensive work with the dying to supporting those that care forthe dying. Often these caregivers are spouses, but not always. They are alsoother family members, friends and community. And they are tired. During extreme emotional times in my life, I have often described to myhusband a deep exhaustion. This exhaustion is not one that can be cured bysleep. It’s a tired soul. This is exactly what these precious caregivers areexperiencing. Their beloved is dying. They are grieving the loss of life andanticipating a new normal without …

Rest in peace Toby Davis Long (March 2021- February 24, 2022). Toby is a hamster. Before Toby, this was also the name that my boys gave me to denote my career in human resources. I’m not sure it’s a compliment, but that’s a story for another time. My husband and I were awakened last night to the sad news that the hamster passed sometime between 6:00 pm and midnight. What was our 13 year old doing up at midnight? Again, a story for another time. What Toby’s passing has reinforced is a common reaction to life and death. We are …

This week I had the opportunity to sit vigil with a dying patient. And while this is not unique for me, what is unique is that I don’t know her. I only know her first name. I don’t know other details. See, her neighbors called some wonderful friends of mine and said that this woman was dying alone at home. My friends opened up their home and hearts. They arranged for volunteer vigil sitters to stay with her through her transition. I was so honored to be one of these people. When I entered her sacred space, I was told …

I have some new friends. I am so grateful that I get to spend time with them every week. Our time is often spent outside, on a deck, talking and laughing as they smoke. They have terminal diseases, but we don’t spend too much time talking about that. What we do spend time talking about is our lives. Our bru-tiful, complicated lives. The most profound conversation I have had in a long time happened recently with Joe. I found him on the smoking deck and we fell into our easy conversation. Joe is one of my favorite people. He is …

As another year comes to a close, I’ve taken quiet time to reflect on a year that has been marked by great change, great love, and great loss. This is not different than what I have done with many of my patients. It’s in the quiet times that we are able to process through lives lived. Great changes, great loves, and great loss. We are each a complex tapestry of all three. What plagues me, though, is what happens to these stories if they are not shared? They become lost forever when a person passes, if stories are not told …

This is my least favorite time of the year. Full stop. The days are too short and the expectations are too high. Heart break and impending heart break feels more acute. Yesterday I found myself sitting in a beautiful log cabin in eastern Tennessee. The Christmas tree was shining brightly in the front window and the stockings were hung over the mantle. Traditional Christmas music was playing softly. Sounds perfect, doesn’t it? There was also a hospital bed and a deeply sleeping patient and an exhausted caregiver. There is no other family to provide respite so that the weary may …

My patients are as unique as the colors of the rainbow. They each have a story and in those stories are pearls. Lessons to be carried on. That is their legacies. I am so lucky to have met Lucille. A 90 year old woman that I spent countless hours with, both as a loving friend and to provide respite to her caregivers. Lucille loved strawberries, God, and her family. My favorite treat to take Lucille was strawberry anything. I watched this petite woman eat an entire pint of fresh strawberries. I saw her devour the homemade strawberry bread that I …