Truth is stranger than Fiction, Part II
More stories from The Car Ate My Mapsco

Let's clarify those job descriptions . . .One of our HHA tells this story: I was taking care of Mr. T one morning, going through our usual bathing routine. Things were going accordingly with no difficulties. I began helping Mr. T back into his bed. While straightening the linens and his pillow for comfort, I asked if he was comfortable?

He replied, "Yes; now is this where you are going to embalm me?"

Gathering my thoughts, I explained to him that I was not going to embalm him; that we had just finished his bath.

He remarked, "Oh, OK." He then asked me if a hearse or an ambulance would be picking his body up? I then asked Mr. T if he wanted to talk about his death. When he said, "Yes", I went to his family, explaining the situation. With family at his bedside, I excused myself, but first told Mr. T that I would see him on Monday morning. He stated to me, while holding my hand, "I won't be here."

I said, "Well, if not, then maybe I'll se you yonder someday." He replied with "A-MEN." Mr. T passed away the next afternoon.

Job description clarification, continued . . . Then there was the patient who asked the social worker, "Are you going to get me naked and wash me?"

Never put anything smaller than your elbow . . . One of our patients started complaining of pain in her right ear and dizziness. The nurses looked in her ear and it appeared that something (a tick, old ear wax, who knows) was in her ear. Over the counter ear wax preparations were of no help. Finally the patient's daughter took her to an ENT specialist. And the diagnosis was . . . a Foreign Body was removed from her ear. And the Foreign body was . . .
a cough drop?

Our four-legged friends really do know . . . One of our families had a Pekinese dog named "Teeka", who never had gotten along with the patient until he got sick. Teeka's behavior mirrored the patient's condition; if Robert had a good day, so did Teeka. If Robert had a bad day, so did Teeka. When I visited on 4/20 AM, Teeka sat behind my car, not wanting me to leave. (The patient's daughter had to pick her up.) When the on-call nurse visited that night, prior to Robert's death, Teeka barked at her and tried to bite her, which this dog has never done to any hospice staff member.

Today one of our nurses visited a patient who is very thin and wears overalls. The top pocket of the overall is very large, and because of his emaciated nature, hangs down over his waistline. As the nurse was listening to his chest, she heard a "Tick, Tick" like a watch. She continued to listen for a minute, then realized: This patient carries a pocket watch in his front bib pocket of his overalls! She shared her thoughts with the family and all of them had a good laugh.

One (or is that many?) of our patients is very independent. For several months the HHA has been trying to get her to allow her to help with bathing and shampoo. Finally the patient shared her concern: "I just don't know how both of us can get into the shower at one time." After being reassured by the HHA that this would not be necessary, the HHA was able to help her with her bath and shampoo.

Little things mean a lot . . . Our patient had been in bed most of the time for the past month. It was almost July 4th. The volunteers had made some cute flags out of cross stitch that were magnetized. The patient asked to be lifted out of bed, put in her wheel chair and rolled to the kitchen so that she could put the flag on her refrigerator. We sometimes underestimate how much the "little things" will mean to the terminally ill.

One of our patients had died. The nurse was waiting with the PCG for the funeral home to come. The PCG was busying herself to avail her grief and was preparing boiled eggs for potato salad. As the nurse visited with her, the PCG turned, said "catch this" and threw an egg to the nurse. Unfortunately, this egg had not been boiled. Both the nurse and the PCG had a big laugh and will remember this for a long time.

Hospice Diary Story I was working on call on a Wednesday night and was asked to make a visit to a local area hospital. I was told the patient was yelling: "I want to die, I want to die, I want to die." The family was not dealing with the patient's condition and requested a chaplain. When I arrived, the family had made the decision to go home. I visited with the patient initially, read scripture, and said a prayer. At the conclusion of the visit I shared with the patient that he could go when he and God were ready. The patient was short of breath and only able to respond to "yes" and "no" questions. The patient responded in a very clear and precise statement like someone else's voice: "So you are giving me permission to let go?" I said, "Yes, I am giving you permission to go." He replied, "Thanks." I had chill bumps from the visit.

I was called to make a hospital chaplain visit with the same family the next day. The family appeared distressed over the patient's suffering and pain. I told the family I would call and have the hospice nurse assess the patient's present condition. I called the office and had the appropriate nurse notified. I waited for what seemed a long time for the nurse to call me back. I mentioned to the family that I would check in at the nurses' station and have the nurse paged again to see the patient. When I went to the nurses' station, there was the hospice nurse. I mentioned that she was sure quick. She looked puzzled and I said, "You did get your page, didn't you?" The nurse looked at me and said, "What page?" "The page for the hospice patient at the end of the hall." The nurse said she didn't get beeped and was there to see the patient and family I had been talking with. It's great when hospice co-workers have mental telepathy.

Some people will adapt to any situation . . . Joe W was an inpatient. His condition was declining and he was no longer able to eat much. Mrs. W, on the other hand, still had a marvelous appetite. So, she filled out his menus and ate his meals. She enjoyed the hospital food so much, she began to order extra portions. The doctor was a bit distressed by this turn of events, and thought he would remedy the situation by changing patient's diet from Regular to Pureed. Undaunted, Mrs. W ate the pureed meals, also!

Life goes on . . . One of my patients, Randy, was a man who was able to respond with facial expressions and a few sounds and words. After his great grandson, Cody, was born, his granddaughter brought Cody over to see him. She put Cody in bed next to Randy. Cody turned and smiled at Randy; Randy smiled back! Although Randy could not express his feelings in words, the expression of joy on his face said it all!!

More mysterious ways . . . Or . . . Heavenly Help in Time of Need In times of grief and loss we hope we can find strength, comfort and peace. I spoke with the sister of a patient who shared such an experience of strength and peace. A.B. (the patient) had been having a rough night battling seizures. The sister mentioned praying after A.B. had a severe seizure. Following the prayer, the sister felt a warm presence in the room. The only persons in the room were A.B. and her sister. The sister described the feeling as if there were angels in the room with her, supporting her and A.B. The sister gave verbal permission to the patient to go on and be with their mother in heaven. The sister mentioned how there will be a great reunion taking place and how wonderful it will be for the patient to go ahead and go on. The patient at that time had a peaceful look on her face unlike any she had had for a long time. The patient was able to verbalize the word, "Mama" and then she died.

The sister shared that at the time of the patient's death, she could smell the sweet fragrance of flowers. This was a very special experience that the sister received, being there when her sister died. The sister's prayers were answered, the patient was peaceful and went on to be with her mother and many other friends. Isn't the power of prayer and the answer to prayer wonderful!

A slip of the tongue . . . The minister at a funeral of one of our young patients meant to say that Wendy did not want an open casket service. Instead he noted that she did not want "an open cactus" service.

How many people do you know who are chronically late to everything? Here's a story about a man who was late to his own funeral . . .

One of our nursing home patients died; his funeral was to be in Idaho. The travel arrangements called for him to transfer planes in Denver. He missed his connecting flight out of Denver. The funeral was at 3 PM and he did not arrive in Idaho until 4 PM. He missed his own funeral! Since it was dark when he arrived at the funeral home, the family had to wait until the next day to bury him, as he could not be buried in the dark.

What's in a name? . . .Our first Director of Volunteers had a patient at one of our contract nursing homes. He suggested that we really needed to charge our company's name, because, after all, he said, "Hospice" sounded an awful lot like "horse piss"!

Miss Ruby . . . One of our patients is a confused, very head-strong patient I call Miss Ruby. Miss Ruby is blind and very hard of hearing. She recognizes everyone who sees her by their voices. One Wednesday, I visited Miss Ruby at the same time HHA Charlene was visiting. The PCG said Miss Ruby was in a wonderful mood and had been cheerful all morning. As soon as Charlene spoke to Miss Ruby, she became very agitated, saying she had already had a bath and did not want another one. The PCG verbalized that Miss Ruby had her face and hands washed after breakfast and that was all.

When this was explained to Miss Ruby she yelled again that she had already bathed and that Charlene was just "hard-headed and set on getting her way."

I went in to assess Miss Ruby and try to calm her, reminding her that we all loved her, especially Charlene. She allowed the assessment and followed simple commands, but refused to allow Charlene to bathe her. I asked her if Charlene could just wash her back and change her diaper. She let loose with some choice four letter words. I asked her if I could wash her back and change her diaper. She agreed. Charlene told me she would do the bathing and changing if I would just talk to Miss Ruby as if I were doing the bathing. So we set out to bathe Miss Ruby.

Just as the washcloth touched Miss Ruby's skin, a storm knocked out the electricity! Now, as I mentioned before, Miss Ruby is blind and never noticed the loss of light. Her room has no windows, so it was pitch black. I continued to talk to Miss Ruby and Charlene continued to wash as if nothing happened. After a while, the PCG found a large candle which she lit and gave to me. I held the candle while I talked Miss Ruby through her bath and diaper change. The entire time this is all happening, Miss Ruby is still complaining about how "hard-headed and determined Charlene is about getting her way." We finished up and left Miss Ruby resting quietly and happily. The power came back on just as we were leaving. That is the end of my story. Hope you enjoyed it.

I am "Miss Ruby's" caregiver. Ruby is Ruby--No one like her. No amount of pills change her personality. I admire her spirit and strong will. She is very hard to handle. Without the help of good and wonderful people, I could not do it alone. I thank God for my family, Dr. C., and Hospice

One of our nurses went to visit a patient who was disturbed about all the people talking around her. "Can't you see I'm dying? . . . Sh. . . Sh . . . ," she said. Her daughter replied, "Well, you'll have a lot of time for quiet when you die."

How do you spell relief? . . . Then there was the time one of our nurses called the pharmacist to check on the spelling of a generic drug, which always seem to be a challenge to spell. "Spell generic Synthyroid," she asked the pharmacist. Dale (the pharmacist) replied, "G-E-N-E-R-I-C S-Y-N-T-H-Y-R-O-I-D".

If it could go wrong . . . Most of the time our visits to tend people at the time of death go smoothly. This is a story that ended well, but it was bumpy all along the way. Just about anything that could go wrong, did go wrong.

It was well into the night when the triage nurse notified me that a patient in Southwest Ft. Worth had died and the family needed a chaplain. A nurse had bee notified and would meet me there. This was the only routine part of this visit.

The night was dark and a little misty with some light rainfall. And this was a part of the city with which I am not well acquainted, but it didn't look too complicated when I looked it up on the Mapsco. Wrong! It turned out to be quite complicated because the streets that I needed to use were not well marked, there was some road construction with detours, and the house did not have a number on it. The house had an outside light that probably had a 25 watt light bulb in it which did not make it any easier to spot. By a slow process of elimination, I finally decided which house was probably the correct one. With some hesitance, I went to the front door and knocked. I could see that people were up and walking around, so at least I wouldn't awaken anyone if it was not the right house.

Fortunately, it was the right one. The family was a bit exasperated that it had taken so long form me to arrive, but I was still the first to arrive to help them. Needless to say, our nurse had a similar problem and it was about another hour before she found the house. I would go out to the front porch every so often to watch for her and she finally saw me as she drove along the street looking for the house as I had done earlier.

Ruth started doing all the things that she needed to do and I decided to talk to the family about their funeral plans. By this time, our patient had been dead for at least three hours and everyone was getting a bit weary and wanted some ending.

No funeral plans had been made previously and they did not even have an idea of whom they wanted to call to handle the arrangements. All the widow knew for sure was that she did not want to spend a lot of money and she wanted everything handled quickly. I educated them as to their options and picked up the yellow pages and started calling funeral homes for estimates in the wee hours of the morning. Some were able to help a little and some just said we'd have to call back during business hours because they were only an answering service.

I finally found a funeral home that was geographically convenient and seemed to offer the services that the family desired at a price that was not too objectionable to them. I told them to come on out and pick up the man.

As you would expect, they too had the same problem that Ruth and I had in finding the house. So we waited and waited and called several times to find out if they were on their way. We were reassured that they had be dispatched but no one showed up. Ruth finally noticed a van driving up and down the street. We decided that it must be the funeral home people. Ruth ran out to the street and flagged them down. Once more, we were lucky that it was the right people and not someone else who would have been frightened or angered at being flagged down.

By now it was about 5:00 AM. The funeral director came in and was confirming all that we had discussed on the phone. This was to be a direct cremation because of the need to keep costs down. He wanted to be very clear with the widow that she would not see her husband again and make sure that was really what she wanted. She was equally clear with him when she responded, "You must understand my husband was a man who always lived cheap. Now is no different . . . he will die cheap."

The funeral director looked as if he'd just bitten into a lemon when the lady said her husband "would die cheap." I guess that fatigue and stress on top of the whole situation made Ruth and me start to laugh and we got so tickled that we had to back around the corner into a small hallway so the family would not see us. In a few minutes, we got ourselves composed and finished up.

The sun was starting to come up as we left to go home. What a hospice night this had been!!

Getting to know Granny . . . When I first started to work for hospiceI had to float from one nursing home to another and I filled in for others when then went on vacation. I didn't really get to know the patients too well before I had to give them their showers. One of the patients we all call "Granny" didn't want to take a shower, so I asked the aide that work there if she always refused. She said she did, so we finally talked her into taking a shower.

When I got her in the shower room, she said, "If you put that water on me, God is going to take me to Heaven."

I said, "Granny, you know that's not going to happen," so I put the water on her.

She dropped her chin down on her chest, closed her eyes, and went completely limp. I thought, "Oh, God, I've really killed this poor woman!" I checked her pulse and it was fine and I noticed her eyes twitching a little bit. Granny was faking! I continued her shower, talking to her all the time. She never answered or moved. I even washed her head! When I was finished, I took her back to her room and put her in bed.

She fell right to sleep, but not before she said to me, "When I do die, I'm going to come back to haunt you!!" I said, "I love you, Granny."

I have a patient that is unable to speak clearly, but today I was able to get him to speak my name, Anna. He smiled really big and it made me feel so good, knowing that he can understand me and that he spoke to me. I turned him so he could see out the window. I asked him if he liked that pretty sunshine outside, and he said, "Yes" and again smiled so big. I told him about my two daughters and asked him if he would like to meet them. He nodded "yes" and his face lit up with delight. I hope to bring them to see him real soon. It's days like today that make what I do so rewarding and worthwhile.

What did he say? . . . The widow of one of my patients told me this story: As her husband's condition declined, but before he became a hospice patient, she and her son-in-law took him to the doctor "to find out what was wrong". Marion (the patient) began talking, and he made very little sense in what he was saying.

His wife and son-in-law exchanged glances as if to say, "What in the world is he saying?"

Marion noticed them and said, "I sure wish I had been in a room by myself when I said that!"

Patient autonomy . . . The same woman told me another story about Marion. He had a very dry wit. After he became a hospice patient, he became totally bedfast and dependent on her for all his care. He was frequently incontinent, and as he was not a small man, getting him turned and changed was frequently a challenge. She had managed to get him cleaned up on one side, and the new diaper under him. He was lying on his back "in all his glory" as she put it, and she told him that he had to turn one more time. He looked right at her and said, "I don't gotta do anything!" (Yes, eventually, she did convince him to turn, just that one more time!)

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