Sunday, March 25, 2001
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Sunday, March 25, 2001 |
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A shining light in a world of pain By MARY JANE HOLT
She was a resident/patient at Christian City Hospice when I met her. She was dying and knew it. I will never forget her. It was one of the most enjoyable I hesitate to use that word but it was indeed one of the most enjoyable interviews I have ever done. She was so real, so at peace, so thankful for so many things. After our first visit she wanted to talk to me a second time. She wanted to be sure I remembered to tell the doctors, "Fifteen minutes is not long enough." If there had been any anger or blame, she had worked through it and let it go by the time we met. I know they say that anger is just one stage and that eventually acceptance and peace comes. Once again "they" don't always know what they are talking about. So, when one is lucky enough to encounter those rare individuals who face life's toughest battles and do go out with a spirit of consuming acceptance and peace, you don't forget them. Trust me, you can't forget them. They become the shining lights, the beacons in the dark for the rest of us. We only hope we can know their kind of calm and joy and total peace in the wake of pain, misery, grief and/or impending death. Now, let me tell you why she told me to tell the doctors, "Fifteen minutes is not long enough." She was in her late fifties. She had a basketful of assorted ailments. There was her high blood pressure and diabetes and the arthritic pain that had to be discussed. There were refills for routine medications that had to be written. There was limited time with the doctors. Being military, there was always a different doctor who she had to see. No chance to have a relationship with a physician. "You need to have a relationship with your physician," she said. "You need to know him or her and they need to know you." "But even if you do understand one another, fifteen minutes still is not enough time especially when the doctor is interrupted repeatedly while he is in the room with you. "And that's another thing," she stressed. "Just because they are in the room does not mean they are really there. Their mind can be somewhere else. Sometimes you can tell. Sometimes you can't, but they are only human." Such was her gentle and forgiving spirit. "They are only human..." She talked of a relative who died angry. Full of blame. Never letting go of all the "Why me?" questions. "Why not me?" she asked. I still can hear her voice. After more than ten years I still can hear her say, "Why not me?" And I still can hear her say, "Tell the doctors fifteen minutes is not long enough." But there was more. She told me to tell the patient (that would be you and me) to keep their own records. Keep copies of all reports of blood tests, diagnostic procedures, surgical reports, etc. And when we go to visit our doctor she said we must take notes with us. Now some doctors appreciate the note. Others grimace when they see you pull it out. Tough! The note is necessary. Those interruptions can disrupt your train of thought, too. It can keep both you and the physician on track. You might want to take two copies. Give the doctor one and keep yours. Go over the list together. Make notes as you talk. You will forget what is said if you do not. She carried a list. But the indigestion was always at the bottom of it and fifteen minutes was never enough time to get to the bottom. The gently lady of whom I speak today spoke of much. She talked about family and friends. About today and tomorrow. Oh, yes, that was another thing. She still saw value in her ever day life. She had hope for the future and joy for the present moment. What a shining example she was for me. I remember her. I'm trying, but I'm not like her yet. I'm angry. I am not full of acceptance or peace. My sister is very sick. She needed more than fifteen minutes a long time ago that she didn't get. Time will tell if it is too late for the medical professionals to make up for that lost time. Lost time... what a strange term.
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