Posted by Kathleen Pooler/@kathypooler
“Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.” Vaclav Havel, Disturbing the Peace.
Since the power of hope through faith is a main theme in my memoir-in-progress, I want to share some moments that have shaped my life and my story.
Hope can be as simple as wishing for a sunny day so you can go on a picnic or as complex as hoping for a peaceful transition in death.
As a registered nurse, I have had the privilege of caring for many dying patients over the years and have been witness to the amazing power of hope, even in death.
As long as we live, we hope.
Let me tell you about a patient I had when I was a young nurse and what he taught me about hope. His name was Mr. Jacobs.
Sacred Ground
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The dimly-lit lamp cast a shadow of itself on the wall as I approached my silent patient who had curled up in a fetal position, facing the stark white wall. The sadness was palpable. That twenty-nine year-old man was dying of colon cancer. I hesitated at the door to ponder how a young man, only six years older than I could be dying in that bed, his scared wife immersed in her own grief in the waiting room? What in the world could I say or do beyond my routine nursing duties? It was easy to take a blood pressure or administer a medication, but that young man was dying and I was his nurse. Twinges of guilt gnawed at me as I pondered my approach. Not too long ago, that young man was leading a normal life; going to work and coming home to play with his kids. I visualized him dancing at his wedding, laughing and hugging his wife. I thought of my own normal life and how I would leave work and return to a daily routine of doing laundry and going grocery shopping. Maybe I’d go for a walk or visit my friend, Maureen and we’d talk about what we were going to wear to the next party or we’d catch up on the latest gossip. All those things that seemed so important a few hours ago suddenly seemed so trivial and shallow.
As I reluctantly walked to his bedside, I heard his slow, rhythmic breathing, his dinner tray untouched on his bedside stand
“Mr Jacobs, I’ll be your nurse this evening. My name is Kathy.”
Slowly nodding in response, he opened his eyes and turned toward me as I stood by his bed. His hair was thick and black and his skin was yellow from the liver damage. He must have been a very handsome man during his healthy days.
Such dark, sad eyes.
“Is there anything you need right now?” My words echoed in my own ears and sounded so trite to me.
He hesitated, “My wife…she’s in the waiting room. She’s having a real hard time” His eyes welled up with tears.
I sat by his bed and touched his arm in response as we sat in silence for a few moments,
“Do you want me to bring her in so you can have some time together?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know what I’ll say to her”
“Hard to find the words at a time like this?”
”Yeah”, nodding his head
“Why don’t you just tell her what you are feeling?”
He slowly nodded once in response.
“I’ll go get her.” I stood up to leave, not having any idea what I would say.
As I walked into the waiting room, I saw his pretty young wife sitting quietly, staring blankly out the window. It was dark and the raindrops glistened as they tapped in rapid succession against the pane. Her blonde page-boy hair was neatly combed, every hair in place. She was trying so hard to hold it all together.
“Mrs Jacobs, my name is Kathy. I’m your husband’s nurse,” I said, reaching out my hand to hers.
“She put her head in her hands and began sobbing, “I can’t lose him. We have two young children at home. I just don’t know what I’m going to do without him”, streaks of mascara forming tracks on her cheeks.
I sat down next to her while she cried, knowing I could not tell her it would be alright, like I wanted to be able to tell her. I just listened.
After a few minutes, she stopped crying, wiped her face and tried to catch her breath
“Do you want to come see your husband now? I will go in with you”
She nodded as she stood up, straightening her red pleated plaid skirt and white pullover.
As we paused in the waiting room doorway, I took her hand and looked directly into her soft blue eyes,“It’s OK to tell your husband how you feel, to say whatever you need to say to him.”
We walked slowly to his room.
“Mr Jacobs, your wife is here.” I announced from his doorway
He was still in a fetal position facing the wall when I guided her over to the other side of the bed to face him.
“You two have some time together and tell each other whatever you need to.”
I left the room and said a silent prayer that they would say what they needed to say to one another. I had to catch up with the rest of my assignment, picking up trays, doing blood pressures and giving medications.
After about 20 minutes, when I went to his room to check on him, she was sitting on his bed, holding his hand in hers and they were both smiling.
She stood up, gave him a kiss and said she was ready to leave.
“It was good. Thank you for helping me walk into that room”, she hugged me as my eyes welled up with tears.
Such sacred ground.
The privilege of helping that young couple share and smile through their pain left me in awe. I could hear my own heart beating as I lingered until she reached the elevator. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I took a deep breath, humbled and changed by this encounter. Taking my assignment sheet out of my pocket, I reviewed the list of tasks and started walking toward Room 332 to give my next patient a backrub, very aware that no textbook or classroom could ever touch me like that.
It would be the first of many humbling and profound moments I would share with people in my care. These people would become my greatest teachers.
Hope Matters, no matter what…
How about you? How does hope work in your life?
Next week: Wellness Coach and Writer, Ted Cole will do a guest post on “The Power of Hope”
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So touching and beautiful, Kathleen. It brought me to tears. As a nurse, you had to see things every day that most of us try to avoid altogether. What an amazing journey you are going to share! Thank you for offering this glimpse.
Best wishes,
Jerry
Thanks,Jerry. I appreciate your comments. Being a nurse has been an honor and a privilege that has afforded me many profound, life-shaping experiences. I can still see the faces of so many patients, my greatest teachers, who have touched me deeply. Sacred ground is truly the best way to describe my journey and I’m happy to share it with you.
Thanks so much fr stopping by! Kathy
Wow I don’t know why folks want to read fiction, when “reall” writing is so touching!
Thanks for the wonderful story and insight Kathy!
That’s sweet, Ray. Thanks so much. I think the trick in memoir writing is to try to get it to read like fiction. We all have stories. I’m happy you enjoyed the story and appreciate you stopping by and commenting. Write on!
Oh Kathy this was so beautiful, so sad, yet inspiring, a wonderful reminder to seize the day and cherish every moment. I can see why nursing was your calling.
Thanks, Pat. Yes, we all need to seize the day and appreciate all we have while you have it, especially health. I appreciate your comments. Nursing is definitely a calling and I am so grateful it called me!
Dear Kathy, your description of this story is so superb, while reading it, I could picture it so perfectly, because of your words poured into the story. Your wise and bold decision brought some comfort for that soon- to- be- departing couple. Good job!
Being in medical profession is gutsy and always challenging. One needs to keep our own emotions locked up. While doing my Residency, one Saturday, as I came home for a few hours, my father complained of hematuria. Immediately,I took him to the clinic at medical school, he was admitted and never came back to us. No special tests could be done as he started hematemesis as well in a short time.It was too late to do anything. Looking at my strong but devastated mother and oldest brother was painful. While being with my dying father all 24 hours, I had to carry the extra emotional load of my family. I needed to block my own sorrow. Supporting my Mom became my daily duty. Same way I have helped my patients, keeping my fears hidden away from them and their families.
Do we get time and privacy to express our pain?
Thanks Smita. You bring up such an important issue through your own poignant story- how do health care providers handle their own emotions and reactions to so many challenging life events. We have to balance our own feelings with our helping role. It’s the price we pay when we care and I have found that striking the balance between caring for ourselves so we can care for others seems to be the key. I’m sure you’ll agree that some days are better than others. Thanks for sharing your perspective through your own stories.
Kathy, this is absolutely beautiful — so from-the-heart, so touching, so well written. I was right there with you (and wanting to hear how the rest of the story went!). A nurse has the power to touch so many lives. I think of the nurses who helped Daddy during his last hours on Earth, who were compassionate both to him and to his family. There must be a special place in Heaven for those who CARE!!
Thanks, Debbie. I am so touched by your kind words and happy to hear you have had a positive experience with nurses who cared for your Dad,especially during his last hours on Earth. To be able to be a source of comfort to others is one of Nursing’s greatest rewards. I feel very privileged. Like I said before, it truly is sacred ground.
Kathy, a touching, well-written story. Thank you for sharing it. I appreciate the work you did as a nurse. I have been on the receiving end of compassionate care by nurses as they cared for family members, and it helped so much.
Thank you so much, Tina. I’m happy you have experienced compassionate care at the hands of a nurse. I appreciate you stopping by and commenting.
Thinking about what you put into this post that affected us all so deeply, I suspect it’s an example of how sharing your own tears put them in our eyes too. You’ve tapped that universal reservoir of grief and sorrow. I look forward to reading more.
It is so true, Sharon, ” No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader.” This scene from 1969 is seared in my memory as if it happened yesterday. Your comments are a great compliment. If I can share how this man and his wife affected me in a way that my reader experiences similar feelings, then I am doing what I’m supposed to be doing..inviting you into my world and sharing the tears. Thank you!
“If I can share how this man and his wife affected me in a way that my reader experiences similar feelings, then I am doing what I’m supposed to be doing..inviting you into my world and sharing the tears.”
Yes, yes, yes.
May I quote you?
Yes,yes,yes. I’d feel honored to be quoted, Janet:-)
Such a touching story, Kathy. It soothed my soul for some reason that I can’t name. It also brought to mind a saying from somewhere (though I couldn’t find the source) that “Hope is faith in things unseen.” There’s so much that we can’t see from our vantage points in physical life that faith and hope are likely all that can help us through our sojourn here. Thank you for reminding me of this.
Thanks, Sam. I appreciate your comments and agree that faith and hope are often all we have to get through those times that defy explanation. Thanks so much for stopping by. I love that your “soul felt soothed for some reason you can’t explain.”
Dear Kathy, What beautiful writing. What a beautiful and sad story. You made it so real and relevant. I can’t wait to read more of your memoir. Thank you for sharing your hope and grief.
Dear Madeline, Your kind comments are greatly appreciated. You have inspired us all to find hope in the midst of grief with your own story. Thanks so much for stopping by. It is so comforting to be able to connect through our stories. Blessings, Kathy
Oh, Kathy, like your other readers, I have tears in my eyes, and my heart hasn’t stopped thudding. Jerry said it well — on a daily basis you dealt with situations many of us try to avoid. I don’t think I could ever be a nurse, and perhaps that’s why I’m so deeply thankful of people like YOU! You and other medical professionals are special gifts from God. Bless you as you wrote and shared this with us. Your stories help make us better people. I can hardly wait to read your memoir!
Linda
Dear Linda, Such sweet comments! Thank you. Nursing is definitely a calling. One has to really love what they’re doing doing to last in the long haul. I’m grateful I was called and that now that I’m retired , I can write about it. I appreciate your ongoing support and words of encouragement, as always.
Blessings,
Kathy
Hi Kathy, Your poignant and beautifully written story reminds me of a story I heard many years ago now and one I’d like to share with you here.
A woman was visiting her terminally ill mother in the hospital. While her mother was taken out of the room for some tests, her mother’s roommate turned to her and said, “Don’t worry. Your mother will be OK.”
“Oh, no. I’m afraid my mother has cancer.”
“Yes. And she will be OK.”
“But you don’t understand,” the woman insisted. “My mother is dying.”
“Yes. I know. And she will be OK.”
I’ve recalled this story often over the past 20 years, particularly when I find myself feeling overwhelmed. It’s reminded me that, no matter what, I too will be OK.
I believe that is what you mean by “hope.” Yes?
Thank again for a beautiful post. I look forward to seeing more.
Janet
Yes, Janet, that is exactly what I mean. Thanks so much for sharing your story and for your lovely comments. I appreciate it.
Kathy, I had read this scene before, but it seems you have expanded on it. You know how this hits “home” for me, personally. Cancer is a tragedy at any age, but when you are young and have small children, it is an unspeakable abominaton; the cruelest of “fates.” There really are no words at a time like that, yet your experience as a nurse offered that couple a “moment” of grace, and hopefully, peace. I know your memoir will offer others solace, or at the very least, the knowledge that they are not alone.
Susan, I think that is why I was so touched by both your memoirs. I had lived the experience on the other side as a caregiver. That is the beauty of memoir- we become connected in a universal bond through our stories. I did post an earlier version of this on the NAMW website several years ago. It’s amazing to me how some people and stories remain so vivid in memory, in this case after 44 years. It makes me realize that the stories that need to be told usually reveal themselves as long as we listen and trust in the process. Thanks so much for your lovely comments.
This is so beautiful, Kathy. You reached us with understatement and detail rather than trying to sell the emotion.
As one whose mission it is to prepare for the hour of my death, one good day at a time, and help others do the same, you have hit me where it counts. I will share this post on my my FB page and on Twitter.
Thanks so much for your gracious feedback, Shirley and for sharing this all over. Your ongoing support and encouragement inspire me to keep writing!
As I read this touching story, I thought of my sister and niece, both OB nurses who have helped mothers and fathers enjoy first life and comforted them when their babies died. Nurses are the front line of compassion. Thank you for sharing that so well.
Hi Carol, So nice to see you here. I appreciate your comments.I love your description,”nurses are the front line of compassion.” OB is the one area I did not work in but I know it can be both the happiest and saddest of places. Despite the challenges, most of us wouldn’t want to be doing anything else as I’m sure your sister and niece would attest to. BTW, I am thoroughly enjoying your delightful memoir, Growing Up Country and promise a review (if Amazon let’s me!) Thanks so much for stopping by.
Kathy,
I was feeling frustrated with all the car problems we’ve had in our family over the last 4 days, and you captured my attention and managed to calm me down with your emotional story.
I look forward to your memoir as I know I shall be transported into your world and follow a journey of hope and inspiration.
You know that I always have questions, and this time I’d like to ask you if think nurses today are busier than ever, and have less time to spend with their patients?
I traveled to a Mayan village in Belize with a group of 12 nurses from Orange County in 2009, and they were complaining about their work loads increasing, and being exhausted.
Thanks for your comments, Sonia and I do hope your car problems get resolved soon. So happy to hear the story calmed you down.
I love your thought-provoking questions and my answer to this one is yes. One of my biggest frustrations as both a nurse and then a nurse practitioner was the ever-increasing demand of paperwork which toward the end of my career eventually turned into the electronic medical record. It seems like we have lost a lot of 1:1 time with our patients. You’ll notice in my story how giving a back rub was part of my duties. It was a time to slow down and spend quality time with a patient while helping them to relax. Backrubs are a thing of the past. In fact, if you’ve ever been a patient in the hospital, you rarely see the nurse. I assure you it is because he or she is buried in paperwork. The challenge for nurses today is to provide compassionate care focused on the individual while managing all the non-personal tasks. There are many other factors coming into play,i.e. being able to measure quality and outcomes but I’ll leave it here. Yes, nurses are busier than ever. You always get me going, Sonia!
Bravo for a poignant glimpse into the important work you did as a nurse, Kathy. I appreciate the fact that you encouraged them to address “the elephant in the room.” I have seen so many people dealing with the imminent death of a loved one without addressing the important issues head-on. I think it’s cathartic and necessary to get it all out into the open. Your writing is captivating! I can’t wait to read your memoir.
Hi Libbye, Thanks so much for your comments. That’s why I call it “sacred ground”. Nurses have the privilege of making a positive difference to people in their most vulnerable moments. Overall, it seems we are a death-denying society and I agree many people avoid the discussion. It is so important to be able to say what ever you have to say so the chances of having any regrets are minimized if not eliminated.. I’m working hard to finish my memoir and really appreciate your support and encouragement. It seems it “takes a village” to write it! Thanks so much for being a part of my village. 🙂
Wow, Kathy, just wow.
I have always wondered how nurses “deal” with the day-in-and-day-out stresses of their job. My mom’s a nurse, and I just assumed she used denial. Denial, and prayer. But, from your story, you truly felt the pain that this couple were going through, and you found a way, in your role, to help.
I can’t wait to learn more, as others have said. However, I want to know, what did you do that evening, and in the days that followed, to allow yourself to live your own life? To process, to understand, but not dwell on the traumatic? To last for so many years in fact, in such an emotionally wrenching job.
Laura
Hi Laura, Nice to see you again! I appreciate your comments. You have asked a very pertinent question that I will try to answer. I feel there is a fine line between being able to stay focused and professional on the job and dealing with one’s personal feelings related to challenging and sad patient encounters. I had to negotiate with myself, always trying to strike a balance between being strong for my patient and doing what I needed to do while still being myself, allowing myself to express my feelings. This patient and his wife are still with me after 44 years and they aren’t the only ones. I talked, I cried, sometimes with my patients. Sometimes, I lost sleep. The real trick for me was to figure out a way to balance my feelings so I could last in the long haul. Some days were better than others. In the end, the rewards of being able to make a positive difference in someone else’s life far outweighed the challenges and I was able to last, as most of us are. If it became too much, like working in ICU did for me at one point, I changed venues but I never left nursing. I think we have to be able to take care of ourselves so we can take care of our patients, like putting the oxygen mask on yourself first then applying it to your child. I hope this answers your question. Nursing is like writing. You really have to love it to keep doing it!
Thanks so much for stopping by,
Kathy
Oh Kathy, I got tears in my eyes as I read this! (I don’t have time to read all posts, so hope I am not repeating too much).
Such a profoundly touching scene to be allowed to observe through your beautiful writing!
My mother was a nurse and used to sit with her geriatric patients, when they pulled out plugs/tubes, ready to die.
I love your title too – hope really does matter.
As someone who has faced a serious near-death experience from TBI, this piece really touches home. I can see this being sent to nursing journals, AMA, doctor sites – I mean the whole medical world, not to mention the insurance industry needs to hear this story.
A wonderful story, well told and I look forward to reading more!! Thank you for sharing your life with all of us!!
Louise
Dear Louise,
I am so honored by your lovely comments and appreciate you taking the time to stop by and share them. I just visited your website at http://www.louisematthewson.com and listened to your interview with Pearlsong, your publisher about your memoir, Life Interrupted. You have an inspirational and empowering story of transcending from traumatic brain injury that I hope everyone will check out. Writing, both prose and poetry, to heal is one of my favorite topics and I’m looking forward to following you and learning more about your work. Your poems are beautiful. Thanks again for sharing your courageous journey with us.
Blessings,
Kathy
Kathy, you bring such poignancy to the moment: such a tender, sad and precious moment in time. It’s a wonderful story and reveals many layers of your personality. Thanks for sharing the experience.
~Terre
Terre, Thanks so much for stopping by and sharing your thoughts on the story. I’m glad you enjoyed it and appreciate your kind comments very much.- Kathy
This story touched me deeply. Thank you for sharing it. As difficult as it was for you to care for the sick and the dying it was a gift that only you could give. It sounds like nursing is your true calling. I’m sure many people benefited from having you there to help them through crisis.
You have written this story in a way that paints a vivid picture. Readers can feel the sentiment behind each word.
My daughter is a nurse. One of her early experiences was having a women who was having minor surgery suddenly experience unexpected complications. The woman died in her arms. Nurses are angels of mercy.
Dear Gloria,
It’s nice to meet you. Thank you so much for your lovely, heartfelt comments. They are greatly appreciated. Your daughter’s story really touched me. What a blessing for the woman to have had your daughter with her. It reminds me of the true gift and privilege it is to be a nurse.
Blessings,
Kathy