On our nursing unit, it's always kind of a guessing game when someone gets sick or is passing. No one really talks about it. I don't know if it's because the staff is too busy caring for the other residents or if it's just too painful. Maybe everyone has become desensitized (a fate I pray I never encounter), or maybe I'm just out of the loop, but for whatever reason I seldem get told when someone dies or is dying. The only way I know is if I look at the daily census updates myself (which I don't see on my days off) or if I notice a certain person missing and ask about it.
Last week I noticed I hadn't seen Harvey all day. He is usually up almost every single day, often sitting in the hallway chewing gum or humming to himself. He had lots of medical issues that I won't get into, but they made him pretty uncomfortable at times. That was probably his only downfall, though, if I can even call it that. Harvey was a very sharp man, very "with it" as you might hear him described on our floor. He had some signs of dementia, like when he'd call me "Mom" after I would hand him his breakfast, but otherwise he usually knew what was going on and could carry an intelligent conversation.
Because I noticed that Harvey wasn't out and about the hallways like he usually would be, I made sure to pass by his room before I left. Sure enough, he was laying in bed with two family members at his side, holding his hand. I've been here long enough now to know that when family members show up at the bedside (especially for a person who you've never seen with a single visitor otherwise), it won't be long. It happens quick, and it happens to the ones you'd least expect.
On my way out that night, I overheard a visitor saying, "I wonder where that man was. You know, the one that's always there in the hallway. He was very bright. Knew a lot of things, mechanical especially. I would always talk to him. I wonder where he's at - didn't see him today. I bet they sent him home. I always thought he was too 'with it' to be living there. That's good he went home, he was a sharp tack."
I knew he was talking about Harvey. The description fit him to a T. But I didn't have the heart to tell him what I already knew. This man thought Harvey was home and healthy, but I knew he was lying in bed, probably in his last days, maybe even moments.
Sure enough, Harvey passed away a few days later. I wish I had been wrong, I really do.
I hate to be such a Debbie Downer in this post, especially right before Christmas (I promise I'm not a Scrooge!). But the main reason I write this blog is to share my experiences with other people who may not ever find themselves in an environment where these life lessons are so prevalent. If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm positively convinced that the world would be a better place (pardon the cliche phrase) if we would take seriously the experiences of our elders. As G.K. Chesterton said, "“I believe what really happens in history is this: the old man is always wrong; and the young people are always wrong about what is wrong with him. The practical form it takes is this: that, while the old man may stand by some stupid custom, the young man always attacks it with some theory that turns out to be equally stupid.” I think a good start to ending that cycle would be to put more weight in the stories of the generations outside of our own, whether older or younger. I digress...
I guess the moral of this post would be to not take your loved ones for granted (there's a nice Christmas message, eh?). We hear it all the time, "life is short" - and it really is. But I'm learning now that even more so, the life of a loved one can be even shorter. Maybe I should credit it to my "post-college, the-world-is bigger-than-me, time-to-become-an-adult-and-think-about-others-instead-of-yourself awakening," but you really never know how long someone will be in your life.
I know Christmas is a time that we make an effort to appreciate our loved ones anyway, but maybe this year it can be more than just "appreciating" them. Instead of just giving them a thoughtful gift or sentimental card (which is wonderful, don't get me wrong), try making an effort to really know them. Ask to hear a story they've never told you. Seek out an interest you have in common and enjoy the experience together. Share something personal and get their advice on the issue. Those are the things you'll remember if, heaven forbid, that person is suddenly not in your life someday. The thoughtful gifts can bring joy for a moment, but those memories are what you will cherish (and grow from) for a lifetime.
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