Goodbye, Hello

A new patient at the hospice usually means another patient has died.

I walked over to his room and introduced myself as I’ve done countless times with numerous patients. He was sicker then most of the other residents in the hospice. Their decline has been slower, filled with ups and downs. I think his days of ups are far behind him and he is on a rapid downhill decline.

It has been awhile since I’ve taken care of a resident that destroyed. The white sheets peppered with his dead skin, stained by sores that covered his body. Every movement slow and controlled, yet still caused him pain that he absorbed with strength and grace, more concerned about our discomfort than his own. “Our discomfort” meaning our worry about causing him undue pain, but still doing what was necessary to care for him.

For the first time, since I began volunteering, I felt maybe? I was in over my head. It’s one thing to care for a declining resident that you know, have bonded with. It’s completely different walking into a room which recently belonged to someone else and beginning anew.

I left the room for a moment, wanting to ask someone more seasoned to assist with his care, but I knew if I backed away now, the next time would be harder. I’ve seen worse, it’s just been awhile, and I needed to remember that I could still do what was needed, anytime, without hesitation.

And I did.

So, goodbye my old friend who lived and died in the same room and was once new to me, just as he is. Revolving, changing, and yet the same.