When I was younger, so much younger than today,
I never needed anybody's help in any way.
But now these days are gone, I'm not so self assured,
Now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors.
– John Lennon, the Beatles
Nature gives to every season some beauties of its own; and from spring to winter, as from the cradle to the grave, it is but a succession of changes so gentle and easy that we can scarcely mark their progress:
A Life Worth Living, he states that:
When it comes to dying in America these days, many of us depart the world, if not entirely alone, then in the company of mere strangers, the ones like health care practitioners who staff hospitals. Meanwhile, those who have mattered most to us remain just offstage, in an ICU lounge perhaps, waiting for a nurse's announcement that we have "passed."Have you been with someone who is dying? Experience tells us that there are better and worse ways to die in a hospital[2-6]. At the moment when someone you love may be most alone, it seems the only comfort you can provide to him/her is staying with them if circumstances permit.
Fortunately, my mother was assigned a single room and I was able to sleep over in one of the sleeping chair. In the day, my sister accompanied her by the bedside. In the evening, I did my part . Not every health care practitioners can face dying patients comfortably. Some of them would rush through their daily routines and stay away from the dying patients as far as possible. There was only one exceptional nurse from Philippine who had an angel heart. After finishing her routines, she would help my mother to turn her sides and clean her back. Most of time my mother just roamed her eyes around the room without many responses. She seemed to wonder where she was. However, my mother would always smile to the nurse whenever she showed up in her room.
To make her feel more comfortable and at home, we have brought her CD's and played music for her every night. These were Christian Hymns. They were played beautifully and gracefully into wee hours of the evenings. Some nurses had stopped by and told us that they also enjoyed the music. At regular intervals, we would help nurses with their daily routines. In addition, with our presences, nurses seemed to feel more comfortable when they stepped into the room. Therefore, our presences were appreciated and well accepted.
As a dying patient, my mother's doctor offered more helps on reducing her pains than other unrelenting and burdensome treatments. In our case, morphine was prescribed and the dosage was increased gradually. In one morning and at the presence of me and my sister, my mother first showed signs of struggling with her breaths, then she breathed her last breath and passed away peacefully.
My life is but a weaving