So, I want to write about loss, facing loss, living with loss, hospice, and life. What are my qualifications? Why would I want to do this?
I do not have a high ranking degree with years of professional psychological experience. What I have are losses as a young sister, a wife, and as an adult child. My own losses and losses of those I care about deeply affect life. They are carried into aging years. Losses friends must endure soon bring sorrow in to daily life. Perhaps sharing some part of these losses will touch the pain.
Living the life of a stay-at-home mom during the 70s and 80s was normal life for me and most of my friends. In the 60s, I had dropped out of college when I got married and worked so that my husband could finish his master’s degree. It wasn’t unusual for women then to get “MRS” degrees while husbands pursued their education goals. When my husband graduated, I became Mom.
My children were the core of my life. As they grew and left home, there was a great sense of loss. My husband and I talked about new directions we could take in life and tried to think about the future without our children as an integral part of daily life.
However, as my youngest son prepared to graduate from high school, we were told that our husband and father wouldn’t be a part of that future. He was diagnosed with stage 4 islet cell cancer that had spread to his liver. He was given six to ten months to live. He lived for thirteen.
What was I to do? I didn’t have an education so that I could adequately support myself. I was forty-nine years old. Fortunately, I was left with enough life insurance to help me go back to school.
While my husband was in the hospital being treated for intolerable pain, I was able to observe the nurses on the oncology ward. Their care for both my husband and me extended beyond just carrying out nursing duties. When my husband had a heart attack, they were the ones who helped me to see that death was near. They were there, gently, in the background as family and friends came to say goodbye.
As I thought about their impact on me and my family, I decided that I wanted to be able to be that person in that same way. To make a long story shorter, I went to school and eventually became a certified hospice and palliative care RN. The years I spent as a hospice nurse are etched in my mind and heart as some of the most meaningful times of my life.
I have retired now, mostly due to chronic pain issues. I wanted to volunteer with hospice but can’t commit myself because I don’t know when a day will be good or bad. Still, the impressions made upon me by memorable clients and families frequently come to mind. I wonder how their lives have been. How does this loss continue to affect today and their futures?
Perhaps talking about loss with others might be helpful. Perhaps we need a gentle way to share. Can this be a gentle way to share? We shall see.
