Above All Lots Of Hope

My opinion and of course, I think it the right one, on what to say to loved ones at the end. Maybe I am wrong, but these are my sincere beliefs.

This poem written by Dennis H. Myers, Physician Assistant, is called the perfect argument. I never realized there was one of those; but it seems logical, because when we argue about anything, love, life, politics, money or people, we all think we are right all the time.

She said, 'you're wrong'.

                                                  And He said She was at fault.

                                                  But, They both knew neither was wrong or right     because

                                                  The wrong was that there was no right,

                                                  But only a bunch of right wrongs.

Arguing is time consuming. My Uncle Julius would walk out of the house as soon as he and Aunt Adele started to bicker. He took a walk around the block and depending on the duration of their argument, was the time he took to walk. See, he was ahead of his own time. He exercised and got rid of the emotion from arguing with her by walking. By the time he came home, she was happy he did come home, because she feared he might not. Then everything was alright, they did not resolve the problem, but they continued on with their lives.

The family thought it a neat way to stop the animosity and he was known as Uncle Julius the quiet one. She was known to be a bit combative. They otherwise got along well and survived a long married life.

My brother as a teen would argue all the time with Dad. He would argue about everything and anything. Sometimes, they were interesting and other times boring. After he matured, he would discuss rather than argue and that was a better time for all of us.  He would always be debating Dad; I thought he should have been an attorney.

People debate on how one should talk to a person who is hospitalized or in a hospice with not much chance of surviving. It is a sad time for the patient and the family and as they huddle around their loved one or friend; there is talk among them what to say. Some professionals believe, I do not, that they should inform the patient that the end is near and to hear if they have any questions. I think that brutal and my opinion is to speak to them with the love you have for them, now and always had and to soothe them and if necessary, speak of when they will get better. We know and they probably know that time will not come, but who wants to hear death talk?

 A friend of mine was talked to at the hospice about her cremation. I knew her for 60 years; I think a bit of talk of how much her daughter loved her and her granddaughter too would have soothed her. If I would have been called to see her; I would have spoken with her of the fun times we had when we were young and through the years corresponding with each other and the phone calls which were delightful. This would have  been my dialogue and I know she would have smiled.

Hope is what keeps the world going around and you will hear all kinds of athletes talk of their hard and poor times growing up and how someone sparked a hope comment into their brains and souls. When my father-in-law was hospitalized at the end, his private duty nurse started to talk to him all about his death. My sister-in-law got rid of her in a heartbeat as she overheard her discussing this and saw how her Dad was quite agitated hearing it. Even then, he needed a spark of hope, even though time was leaving him.

 Hope stands for heart, opportunity, people and endearment- encouragement.

I believe, and I am not a medical professional, that hearing something soothing, even a glimmer of hope, can make the patient dying or not dying, feel a bit warmer and secure. What harm is there in that rather than being so frank you tell them about their forthcoming cremation or their funeral? Why not soothe them as you soothe a crying baby, a cancer fighting person, a person who has been in a horrific accident and is facing multiple operations?

This is a short narrative on my beliefs and hopes for, if it happens to me, will come to me from the ones I love. There is no need to be asked by a clergyman, as I know of one who did this, to a dying young woman. He said “are you scared.”? What use was that, she knew what was happening, she was not in a coma, she was well aware of the situation. He could have recalled to her soothing words of how he remembered her when she was in the school she went to in his facility and he could have made her smile in her remembrance, that he remembered her, out of all the many students there.

Why not put a feeling of love and joy of what was and even if she knew, it was not possible, even a glimmer of hope?

As the poem quoted above, there are probably no wrongs or rights. We choose which way we think will be right and not wrong at the time it is happening.

Let us all hope this doesn't happen to anyone of us or our loved ones for a long, long time.