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Hats off to Hospice for Caring,Comforting & Compassion

2/15/2018

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Over the past 15 years, I've worked in the home health care field in a non-clinical role. Although not a nurse, I know many and have utmost respect for the men and women who choose to sacrifice so much as caregivers for the ill. Time and time again, I've heard how amazing a hospice team is for a terminally ill patient. Never did I realize just how very special a hospice nurse, nurse's aide, social worker, chaplain, and volunteer is to the patient and their family until my mother was admitted to hospice.
 
Mom fought Multiple Myeloma for nearly eight years. Such a prognosis was unheard of for a woman of her age. Her determination to be with the family she treasured kept her motivated. The months between chemotherapy when she felt more herself to enjoy a somewhat normal life with her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren was all she needed to tackle the next round of treatment, even though it made her so ill during that time.
 
The last two events my mother longed to live for was my son's wedding and the birth of her 9th great-grandchild. With God and all the angels above, she was able to enjoy both of those special events. Shortly thereafter, this beautiful woman became tired, and disease was overtaking her body. Even then, she wondered if another round of treatment would help. But, her illness was too advanced and there was nothing more we could do but keep her comfortable.
 
Because she was suffering with much pain, it was suggested that hospice would be the best way of keeping her comfortable. Since her needs surpassed our ability to care for her at home, the decision to place my mom in a hospice residence did not come easy, especially because of her continuous will to live, even at her age of 91. A medical social worker guided us through the process of her admission to hospice care.

When Mom was moved to the place we knew would be her bridge to heaven, my sister, brother, and I were immediately overcome with a calmness as the atmosphere was full of love and compassion from the first words spoken to us as we registered her into the home. While signing appropriate documents with the registrar, a nurse and an aide went into my mother's new room and closed the door behind them. Apparently, they were getting her set up in her new surroundings. After she was clean, fluffed, and tucked, the three of us stepped in to be with her and were mesmerized of her home-like comfortable surroundings. It was not only a room for Mom, it was a room for all of us. When someone says hospice takes care of the patient as well as the family, I now have an understanding of just what that means. The bed wasn’t a standard hospital bed. Mom's bed was large enough for three so we could be next to her whenever we wanted, which was often.
 
Her pain was always attended to by the nurses. They knew just when she needed less, and then needed more. Mom already looked more content than she had been in weeks. Throughout her time there, the staff continued giving her whatever she required for comfort care. At the same time, they always asked what they could do for us. A priest and chaplain prayed with us. Volunteers crocheted for us a memory square which was accompanied with a prayer. The entire family, children, pets and all were welcomed for visits. With the spaciousness of her room, my brother, sister, and I were with Mom day and night since it was indicated it wouldn’t be long before she’d leave us. At times, we sat in the beautiful chapel and prayed, ate as a family in the full kitchen where cookies were baked fresh every day, or took comfort in front of the fireplace set in a sitting room which even had a grand piano.
 
The more hours which passed, the less mom verbalized. However, the staff assured us she would  hear whatever we were saying. Due to her vitals and other signs, the nurse expressed she was close to the end. We told mom she’d see Dad very soon, and that they’d be dancing together once again. When she was taking her last breaths, the nurse confirmed it was over, and mom was passing. We kissed her, we cried, we held her hand until her last breath. As sad as it was to see the death of our mom, it was also a beautiful moment to feel we somehow guided her peacefully to the angels.
 
Without the hospice team of people being at our beck and call, I don’t believe we would have had the same experience. Whether a hospice team cares for a patient in his or her own home, in a hospital setting, or in a residential type hospice home, the care they give is tremendously selfless and superlative. They are the experts. They know what a patient and family needs. They care, they comfort, and they provide compassion to all involved with their patient at the end of their time.


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Christmas Without You

11/9/2017

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Dear Mom,

It is the first Christmas without you, Mom. Nothing will be the same. While I decorate my home, I won’t see you sitting in your favorite chair admiring every ornament as I perfectly place them on the branches of my tree. I won’t hear you say how beautiful it is when the lights are lit and garland is hung. The memories of years ago and ceramic classes where we made our reindeer and sleighs is just a special memory of that time we spent together. When planning the holiday feast, I’ll miss calling you for recipe advice. Your suggestions and comments about our Christmas menu were always welcomed.  On Christmas Eve, a glass will sit in the cabinet as everyone sips their favorite martinis. The place at the table where you oversee the dinner spread will remain empty.
 
I’ll always remember how you loved to watch midnight mass in Rome on Christmas Eve. The boys will not have their Grandma sitting in that special chair watching them open their presents as they sit around the tree once morning comes around. I could just picture your eyes light up when all the little ones come later in the day to give you a Merry Christmas hug. Yes, Mom, nothing will ever be the same without you on Christmas, and every single day that passes thereafter. All I could hope and pray for is that your Christmas in heaven with Dad and everyone else you love will be even more special than they ever were when you were here.
 
Even though we will not see you as Christmas comes and goes, I believe you will be with us as our angel, our beautiful, wonderful angel.  
 
All my love,
Donna

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Sending My Kisses to Heaven

9/1/2017

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    My personal memories of my dad may not mean much to most readers visiting my blog. However, as a writer, I feel a personal desire to share my thoughts of him on his birthday.  When I think of Dad, I can remember as far back as being a toddler, feeling his love and security while in his arms as he’d carry me up the stairs to bed.  When those training wheels came off of my banana seat bike, Dad was right behind me knowing just when to let go. One of my favorite backyard fun times was when he’d throw the softball straight up in the air so that I could catch it falling from what seemed to be the sky. I remember how I’d giggle when he vigorously towel dried my hair after a bath.

     For years, Dad drove me to the opposite side of Chicago from where we lived for piano lessons, sacrificing his own agenda of getting to his bowling league on time.  When it came to singing, he surely knew how to harmonize a barber shop tune, and often pulled me into the song right along with him.  Moving from Chicago to the suburbs when I was 13 years old wasn't the easiest as I left many friends behind. Dad found a solution for my dilemma by driving me to and from Chicago every single day for nearly three months in order for me to finish school and graduate with the classmates I knew since Kindergarten.

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st as most other dads of teenagers, he taught me to drive with the utmost patience. And, he was there to hold me tight while I cried in the back seat of a squad car following a serious car accident just down the street from our home. On my wedding day, we chatted all the way down the aisle, not believing the horrible music the organist was playing because the church wouldn't allow Here Comes the Bride. And, what girl would forget the father/daughter dance at their wedding? I’ll always remember mine. Eventually, my children were born and he held them each with pride and love. My four boys learned to play catch from Grandpa, and they still speak of that today. He was also their biggest cheerleader at their little league games.

    I miss Dad’s warm smile and hardy laugh.  He was never too busy to listen, help, and most of all, 
love. Today is his birthday, so I’m sending my kisses to heaven.  I hope there are birthday celebrations up there, and Dad is sitting with his passed on family and friends having a cold beer, a bowl of homemade spaghetti, and singing Sweet Adeline.

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Do you have family dinners?

6/8/2016

1 Comment

 
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Today’s family lifestyles of longer work hours for moms and dads and excessive after school activities for children have given way to the drive-thru meals eaten in the car between one place and another. Significant conversation is minimal while eye contact is nil as many continue to live their lives on the go. The mandatory dinner presence so many of us experienced from our own childhood remains only a memory and rarely practiced as part of contemporary lifestyles.

Is the family dinner time old fashioned? Personally, I tend to think not. My boys are grown, now. They are either in school, or have jobs of their own. At this point of our lives, we are not always together for dinner. However, since my boys have grown up in a household where everyone was sitting at the kitchen table by 6pm, they have come to value such gatherings when the opportunity comes about now that they are older and not around as much. In fact, there is an obvious contentment when we manage such a family dinner. It feels right, feels like home. As they anxiously dig into whatever the chow may be, someone will often comment, “Hey, we’re all together,” which brings a profound smile of acknowledgment by all before conversation is in full gear as everyone catches up with each other.

Finding time to eat as a family when chasing to dance class or basketball practice after school gives the family a chance to slow down and take a breather from a hectic afternoon. Consistent family dinnertime will create a routine for children. Such stability is important for kids. Whether it is hot dogs, pizza, or filet mignon being served, the food on the table has no importance in comparison to the shared conversation about the school day, friends, work, etc. At the same time, an interest and concern for other family members is naturally developed. We all wish our children to grow up with good family memories and values which can be passed down to their own children. And, it is the good memories which will turn a house into a home.

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