– in the briefest of seconds what we think we want can
change, what we think is the best course of action- can change. In that instant, time seems to stand still,
then very slowly things start to move again, you hear the noise in your ears,
you see the sights in your mind’s eye, you feel the whole of your stomach
collapse, and then slowly you feel the build, what starts as a light aching
feeling slowly gains momentum in the very pit of your stomach and you feel it
build until the crescendo of your heartbreak seeps out of you like a sound from
the grave, the sadness, the lost hope, the pain of loss coming out in muffled sobs while tears stream
down your face. The dam breaks and the tears flow. You gain your composure and
you know you know have a task in hand. A job to do. Things to finish.
As a next of kin you have to keep it together, you have to
give what you have to your loved one with all your heart for what little time
they have left. This was me last month, but it has or will be every one of us
in this room at some stage of our lives. Last month I went to the hospital to
see how my aunt was doing. When I arrived she was ill, very ill. She had gone
from being unwell to ill in the space of a few short days. In the space of a
few hours the full picture began to emerge and I realised that things were not
good at all. It’s hard to take in the information but I have realised a few
aspects can make this difficult task easier for family to hear and for
clinicians to say.
My first encounter was with the nursing staff when I arrived
on the ward. I asked for a staff member to check my aunt’s oxygen when I
arrived and two members of staff came to talk to me and assist. The nurse in
charge was calm, and in control, factual and things in the ward were calm and
organised. The doctor arrived I assume he was the SHO and explained that there
were some concerns, he did an examination and following that explained what his
concerns were and the proposed course of action. He was pleasant, calm,
reassuring, spoke clearly, emphasised his concerns and proceeded with the
required action. He was kind. I started
to realise the situation was one of concern. I left to return home knowing that
I should expect a phone call from the staff later that day.
Aisling rang me that evening; again she was calm,
knowledgeable, reassuring, spoke clearly and with purpose. I knew this was one
of those phone calls you hope you won’t receive, it’s the starting point.
Aisling said she would get the doctor to ring me when the results of the tests
being done were back. She was kind, empathised with me and heard my sadness.
When Patrick rang I knew things were progressively getting worse. He took his
time, was calm, clearly explained everything, never rushed, time was given for
me to take it all in. I felt his empathy, I sensed his kindness. I asked him a
simple question, if it was your family would you come in to say goodbye. He
said yes, if it was mine I would. It was that simple. It was that hard.
It’s all over now; she has moved on. I don’t even know how I
feel. Guilty I didn’t do more, upset that I never told her how much I loved her
when she was alive, broken that I can’t bring her back, that she is lost to me
forever. She never really came back from Saturday, I don’t know what happened
to her, and I don’t understand why she died, not really. I know the clinical
reasons in the last week but not the why so fast, the how she went from talking
last Sunday to gone in a week. Did I neglect her, not spend enough time with
her in the last few years. I will never
know, all I can do now is try to do my best by her and remember her with
fondness.
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