The Car Ate My Mapsco . . .
and other assorted hospice stories

Compiled by the staff of my hospice
(formerly Hospice Care, Inc.),
Ft. Worth, Texas
1987 to present

The car did eat my mapsco . . . Marynell, RN, is the one responsible for the title of this anthology . . . she always kept her mapsco on the front seat, as in her position as assessment nurse, she was always going somewhere different every day. One day she went to look for her mapsco, and it was gone. She looked everywhere in her car and could only conclude that her car ate her mapsco!

One of my patients had cirrhosis, brought on by congestive heart failure. She also had a wonderful sense of humor that she retained, even as her condition worsened and she became more lethargic and more forgetful. One day, less than a week before she died, she yawned repeatedly during my visit. I asked her why she was yawning. She opened her eyes, looked right at me, and said (with a smile), "Because you're boring!".

Life goes on . . . I attended the funeral of a patient--a woman in her fifties. Her family was very important to her, and so it did not surprise me that her daughters brought all of their children to the funeral (seven in all). Three of the grandsons are between the ages of 3 and 6.

After the grave side service was completed, they were seen climbing on the mound of dirt (covered by the green "carpet") near the grave and trying to walk on the grave markers, as they would on sidewalk segments.

Alpo, anyone? Marynell (an animal lover who has a dog and three cats) was talking nicely to a patient's dog during her assessment visit. The next thing she knew, the dog had jumped on the floor and had bitten her leg, puncturing the skin.

She checked later with a physician who specializes in Infectious Diseases re: the need for a tetanus shot. He reassured her that unless the dog wore braces, she would not need a tetanus shot.

"However," he said, "if you start craving Alpo, get worried."

Small miracles . . . Marynell took flowers to a patient for her birthday. This lady had been verbally non-responsive for some time. When Marynell told her who she was and that she had flowers for her birthday, the patient opened her eyes and looked toward the flowers.

Do you hear what I hear? . . . David tells a story about a patient who saw angels and heard them. "I've had many patients who have seen angels as they died. But I'll never forget a lovely Czech woman named Victoria. I called her Vicky and she called me Father David. It was a little joke between us--she was Catholic and I was Baptist. That was never a problem between us. We had a lot of interesting conversations about religion. She was very much the picture of a grandma--round, soft and sweet. She always had a smile. Vicky lived in a nursing home. Her window overlooked a nearby playground, and she spent hours watching the children at recess. She really enjoyed that.

But one day when I came to visit, she seem very preoccupied. We were chatting a bit, but suddenly she stopped talking, and began to look beyond me.

Finally she said, "Father David, do you see that? There are two angels in this room"

"No, Vicky, I can't see them. Can you tell me about them?"

She began to describe the angels, how they looked, what clothes they wore. "Their wings are enormous," she said.

I'll never forget how she said that word, enormous. "They're in here," she said. "They're up in the air." eventually, she asked me,"Father David, do you hear that?"

"No," I said. "What is it?"

"They're singing," Vicky said. The angels are singing, "Glory to God in the Highest" It's beautiful, what they're singing." She put her hand in mine, and smiled at me. "Father David, did you feel that?" she asked.

"No,Vicky, what is it?" "One of the angels touched your cheek with his wing," she said. "And he told me that you're an angel, sent to care for me now."

I think Vicky was right about the angels. I think there's a time when we're all aware of them--but as young, young children . . . and then as dying people. In between, we get too busy to see them. But they're there.

Here's a classic that had the entire documentation room in laughter. I phoned the PCP of one of our patients to schedule an assessment visit. She related to me that he (the patient) did not know he was dying and she did not want me to mention it for fear it would kill him!!

Pull out your crystal ball . . . Our on-call nurse visited a patient one evening and told the family that the patient probably would not live longer than another day.

When another nurse visited the next afternoon, the family told her that it had been 18 hours already, and that he only had another 6 hours to live!

One of our families lived in a rather small 2 bedroom apartment. The second time their nurse visited, the family asked for more stickers with our phone number on them. She thought that was odd, as she had given them several on her previous visit, and they only had one phone. On her third visit, she discovered what they had done with the additional stickers

. . . each vehicle the family owned now had "Hospice Care, Inc. 870-1955" on its right rear bumper!

You have entered the twilight zone . . . After one of our patients died, his wife called to find out if the nurse knew where he was. It seemed that the patient's first wife (that the hospice team knew nothing about) had gone to the funeral home and made other arrangements and the body had been moved. Meanwhile, when wife #2 contacted the funeral home, she could not find him. She wanted to know if we could help find the body!

Good news . . . and bad news . . .Mr. E.B. went to Las Vegas about a month before he died. I gave him a dollar to play in the nickel slots for me. When he returned, he told me he had "good news and bad news" for me. When I asked for the good news first, he gave me a nickel. "The bad news is", he said, "that the other 95 cents is still in Las Vegas."

Are you sure? . . .Modiene, RN, recalls the patient whose family was particularly difficult. She attended the funeral, JUST TO MAKE SURE that the patient was truly dead.

Is it contagious? . . . A new patient to hospice told the nurse that she wanted to keep the curtain closed between her and the other patient. She wanted to make sure that she did not catch what the other patient had. The other patient, a hospice patient, had Alzheimer's!

Home Sweet Home . . . One patient had gone to Padre Island for a "last vacation" and became very ill. His family asked what they should do and were advised to bring him back to Fort Worth, since they had a van they could transport him in. We discussed what to do if he died along the way--our advice was to keep going until they got him home, and we would have a nurse meet them at their home. He must have known all this because he survived the trip, was able to be helped into a wheelchair and put in his own bed where he died within minutes after arrival.

What's wrong with this picture (or patient)? . . . I was visiting a patient at a local nursing home. Mr. L. was declining rapidly. One of our hospice social workers was also on the scene and in Mr. L's room. I left the room to comfort the nursing home nurse who was quite attached to Mr. L. Upon entering the room, the social worker responded, "There is something going wrong here, the patient sounds kinda funny." I took one look at the patient and responded directly to the social worker, "Well, maybe it's because the patient is DEAD." Sure enough the patient had died and the social worker was thoroughly embarrassed.

From note on a patient chart: "Gave a patient a hug and deported." If you're going to deport me, don't bother to hug me!

There are side effects to everything . . . The son of one of my patients is reluctant to give his father pain medication, because it makes him "disillusioned."

What's in the bathroom? . . .Then there was the family that was hiding the margaritas in the bathroom during our chaplain's visit. They were greatly relieved to find out they didn't have to hide the margaritas any more!

Social work is a GAS! I went to see a new admit. The lady had just come from the hospital and her daughter was anxious about taking care of her in her home. We sat and discussed care options.

In walked this huge dog who appeared to be senile. She stated, "That's Buster; he's 16 years old." Buster came in and sat directly on my foot.

The lady continued to talk and appeared to ignore Buster. I moved my foot over and he stood up, went in a circle and sat on my foot again. I then heard this oooh air sound followed by this terrible rotten smell. The daughter looked at me and I looked at her. The smell was making me sick. Finally I felt my foot get very warm and I decided I had better go to the car for ANYTHING just to get outside for air. When I went to the care I gagged my lunch over her yard and gasped for air.

When I came back in she was letting Buster out. She stated that he was having some problems with his stomach and she had finally figured where the smell had come from.

Out of the mouths of babes . . . When we had a Junior Volunteer program, the young people (ages 10 to 18) used to visit our patients in the nursing homes. One day, a group of them were visiting one of our patients. The junior volunteer asked the patient, "What are you doing?" The patient responded, "I'm trying to die." To which our young person responded, "Well, it looks like you're doing a good job."

Susan E., RN, tells the story about the patient who had cancer of the "tentacles"!

Social workers are heaven-sent . . .One day I was lost trying to find this patient's house on the north side of Fort Worth. It was one of those strange streets where there were duplicate addresses only you had to know if you should be going either east or west. EX: 534 East Brown/534 West Brown. Well, I went to the wrong home of course! I knocked and knocked and could not get the patient to respond. Finally, I left my card on the mail box. An hour later I received two calls: one from the patient wondering why I hadn't showed up and the other from a grateful elderly couple, stating, "Our prayers have been answered. We had a lot of social security and Medicare questions and had just prayed that God would send us someone." I ended up making appropriate referrals to other agencies and it worked out OK. Of course, Mrs. S cussed me in Spanish and English for showing up 2 hours later! (Smile)

So, do red-heads have more fun? . . .One of our male patients had a wife who was, to say the least, unusual. We never quite knew what she would come up with next! One day, she told our nurse that our patient (her husband) had said to her, "When you die, I'm going to marry Bonnie."

First Impressions . . . As you can imagine, our admissions staff hear some funny things when they first contact a family. One day, I was talking with a lady about her husband and was trying to find out where his cancer was located. When I asked her, she said "You know." I told her I was sorry, but I did not know. She said, "It's down there." I asked down where? She said, "It's down in his private parts." I told her I knew this was difficult, but I really needed her to be more specific. She said, "It's in his prostitute!" I said, "In his prostitute?" And she said, "Yes, he has two above, one swinging, and two below!"

First Impressions . . . (continued) The other involved talking with an elderly woman who must have been hard of hearing. It had been a long day and I had talked with many difficult families. When she answered the phone I explained who I was and that I was with Hospice Care. Her reply was "Hospice, Hospice? Is that spelled with one S or two?" It had been a really long day, so I told her two.

Little old ladies sometimes have very strong opinions--about several things. It was my experience to have the joy of sharing in the opinion of one lady, Ann. I met her for the first time in her room in a nursing home; she could not see very well and her hearing was almost gone, but her voice was strong and at times her mind was quite clear. On this visit we began talking about her church--First Baptist of Dallas. She had as her pastor the founder, George W. Truitt. She felt he was one of the greatest pastors. She so enjoyed his sermons; "if only I could hear him preach again," she would say time and again.

I decided I would try to fulfill this request. I bought a book with his sermons. I tried on my next visit to read a sermon to her. "You don't sound anything like him," was her reply. I thought that was all I could do, but life has ways of showing all kinds of twists.

I found that Southwestern Seminary had audio tapes of Dr. George W. Truitt. I obtained two tapes, took a tape recorder and again on a visit played the tape for Ann, placing the recorder close to her good ear. She was very quiet and when the tape was finished, she gave a contented sigh and said, "It is so good to hear him again."

I had also earned that Ann had been the author of a book concerning teaching of children that was in the library at Southwestern Seminary. When I questioned her about this, she very quickly told me, "The Lord wrote that book; I just typed it."

I continued to see Ann and in the fall, just before her 100th birthday, she went to hear her beloved pastor, George W. Truitt, in person. I attended her graveside service. There were just a few people and her daughter and family there. And as the minister was talking about Ann, he spoke of the books she had written. I could not stop myself from speaking; it was as though Ann herself had me say, "Ann always told me she did not author that book. The Lord wrote that book; I just typed it.'"

Some of us just don't like to travel . . . One of my patients was talking to her family about burial arrangements. She had a burial plot in Oklahoma, but her family told her that she could be buried her in Fort Worth. "Oh, good," she said, "I wasn't looking forward to making that long trip!"

One of my favorite patients was a man who had a great deal of ascites. I tried to explain to Al that his back pain was similar to labor pains. While I was talking to his wife, Al got up to got to the bathroom. When he returned, he pulled up his shirt to show me that he had drawn a picture of a baby on his abdomen!

An enlightening experience . . .One of my patients had been a truck driver. I was sitting by his bed, holding his hand as he was dying. He had been virtually unresponsive for some time. All of a sudden he said, quite clearly, "I see a light."

"Go to the light," I told him.

"No," he said, "that guy has his brights on"!

They say that if prayer is us talking to God, then intuition is God talking to us.

I recall the patient I saw daily for a week, as her condition declined steadily. On Friday, I explained to the family that the patient would probably die in the next 24 hours, and that when they called, an on-call nurse would be the one to attend her death. The patient's daughter-in-law looked disappointed, but I reminded myself that I did not have to be on call 7 days a week for my patients, and that the on-call staff would take good care of "my family".

All afternoon, a little voice kept gnawing at me, telling me that I needed to attend this death. All afternoon, I responded logically to the "voice"; I don't have to attend this death; the on-call staff will take good care of them. Finally, at 8 PM that Friday night, I gave in to the "voice" and called the on-call nurse to tell her I would attend my patient's death.

When I arrived at the house on Saturday afternoon, her daughter-in-law, Sharon, said, "I thought you weren't on call?"

"I'm not," I said.

"Then why are you here?" she asked.

I could only shrug my shoulders.

She looked and me and simply stated, "Our prayers have been answered."

Granny, is that God? . . . As a social worker in the Denton office, I have a special interest in grieving children. I have been following one family for bereavement since the father died in the spring of 1994. I have been assisting the mother and the 4 year old twins, Clint and Carly. Since their father's death, they have also lost their grandfather and a great-grandmother. The twins' grandmother (who has lost a son, husband and mother in one year) has always been a very strong force in this family. She copes by finding meaning in poetry and through humor.

At the memorial mass for her mother (the children's' great-grandmother), the children sat by her side. Since the body of their great-grandmother had been cremated, it was different than the other funerals they had attended. They were fascinated by the "big lady who sang that really loud song" (Ave Maria), and by all of the ceremony that took place.

At one point during the mass, when the priest was speaking in a booming deep voice, Carly's eyes got huge. She leaned over to her grandmother and said, "Granny, is that God?"

Her grandmother smiled and replied, "No, honey, he just works for Him."

What do they think this is . . . the Hilton? Several nurses tell this story . . . One night I was sent to see an inpatient at a hospital in Grand Prairie. Not being familiar with the area, and having only an address, but not directions, I found myself driving up and down the street the hospital was on. I must have passed it several times, but did not realize that large building with the big blue H at the top was NOT the Hilton, but the Hospital!

Overheard . . . in the PCM's office: Nurse A was in the process of finalizing her schedule and in utter frustration said to Nurse B, "Well, just tell me where to go! I have to be there by 9:30 and I'm going to be late!"

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