Is April the cruelest month?
Something about nursing home care in the spring reminds me of the first words of "The Waste Land" by T.S. Eliot:
"April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire..."
I've always been drawn in by this poem, it's mysterious passages and the author's lingering sense of decay in the midst of springtime renewal that surrounds him.
This time of year as I make my rounds, I see bodies, gray and bent, being wheeled out to enjoy the breezes of what is probably their last spring, and it's true - there is something cruel about the way the earth and youth continue to erupt and blossom and thrive while my patients continue to fade.
But then I saw something this Easter season that helped to ease the "cruelest month" a bit. It was as I was walking out of one of my favorite nursing homes and passed the chapel. This must have been on Good Friday, but there was the chapel filled with the same bent forms. All of them were waiting as the chaplain travelled through the room dispensing the elements. Eyes closed, mouths opened, they received the bread and wine and took part in a something that is ancient yet still alive with meaning and power. New life from old ashes.
I’ve been following with interest your Faith and Values articles in the newspaper. They are all good. This is my first blogging.
ReplyDeleteI am former RN caring for my husband of 27 years who was “diagnosed” with Alzheimer’s 7 years ago. He is 84 years old; I am 64 – which is part of why I have some energy and stamina to get through this and still have a life for myself. The other reason is that in I have help 10 hours a day from 8:00 am – 6:00 PM. Though financial draining, I am well aware that we are very fortunate to be able to hire help.
He is now in late stage, has been totally incontinent for almost 4 years, cannot feed himself, does not turn over in bed and recently is not able to stand. BUT, he still has awareness, still smiles and makes facial expressions, and still interacts with people. He still attempts at verbal communication, muttering sometimes in great length and with enthusiasm. He sleeps and eats well, is comfortable, seems content, and is getting loving care at home. I truly believe and tell people he still has quality of life. Some of them look at me like I’m crazy or with pity. Those are the people who do not spend any meaningful time with us to make a true evaluation and I believe they have not had reason to give much deep thought about what quality of life means in this and other situations.
I know how much worse his condition could be and probably will be soon. For now, I’m in a mind set to enjoy what little time we have left together.
I read everything I could about palliative care and gave much thought to death and dying. This process consumed time and was depressing but necessary. Every situation is different. Everyone finds their way. This is ours/mine.
The learning process done, I feel free to live in the now. This takes practice. The now is spring. Birds chirping, flowers blooming, renewal of life. Spring is enjoyable and beautiful even for the old and fading people – maybe even more so for them. Maybe they notice it more than we can know. It makes their environment and their “now” a nice place, not a cruel one – a beautiful gift.
Thanks for the reminder, Beth. I was making the mistake of looking at it from my perspective, not theirs!
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