Hospice Nursing

Ed says no one wants to hear my death and dying stories. He may be correct. But I have to write this one down so in the days when I wonder why I want to be a hospice nurse, I have this reminder. To those of you who have asked why I want to work with dying people all the time, here is my answer.

Last evening I was told I would be getting a late admission. I don’t like late admissions. A normal admission takes me between two and three hours to complete and that is in addition to taking care of three other patients.  After being sick all week myself, I had no desire to work overtime last night.

She was supposed to come at seven, she came at 8:20. Not good. And yes I still love hospice nursing.

She came by stretcher from the hospital, alone. No family was with her to give me her history. She was awake and the hospital had said she was alert and oriented so could answer questions herself. What they didn’t tell me was that she was so short of breath, she couldn’t talk. Lung cancer.

She was  frail. Her skin was gray, her hands blue from lack of oxygen. But the symptom that hit me as soon as she looked at me was the fear and anxiety in her eyes.  It is almost always there when I person can’t get air into their lungs. You want to tell them to take a deep breath, but you know they can’t; so I took a big for her, assessed her quickly, and reassure her we would have her breathing better shortly.

Since there was no family with her, I ask our hospice aide to go sit with her so she wouldn’t feel so alone and afraid. I told her not to ask her questions; just sit beside her, hold her hand and listen to some soft music with her. Within ten minutes of her arrival, I was on the phone to the doctor getting orders.

There are still many people who think the medications we use at hospice make a person die sooner. They do not; they make people comfortable, they help take away the fear, and in this case they helped my patient feel like she wasn’t suffocating.  It only took one small dose of two kinds of medicine, a breathing treatment and an hour of sitting by her bed, reassuring her that we would be there with her “all the way” and she relaxed and was breathing comfortably.  I did say a little prayer too that the medicine would help and she would feel peaceful.

Then I went and did the two hours of paperwork. But on my midnight trip home after work, I felt good. My patient was still comfortable when I left.

This morning I read in the fifth chapter of the book of Mark, about a lady who had been ill for twelve years. It says that she “had suffered many things of many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was nothing bettered, but rather grew worse.” She decided if she could just touch the hem of Jesus’ garment she could be whole, “and she felt in her body that she was healed of that plague.”   Jesus of course knew what had happened and told her to “go in peace, and be whole.”

Jesus didn’t heal my patient last night, but I am thankful that He was there with me to help “hospice”  help her to "feel" her symptoms subside and feel peaceful.  Hospice is a wonderful thing for those who need it.