Death

Did that title get your attention? That word is probably one of the more powerful in human language. It can stir very deep and very real emotions.

Today, my volunteer work was very difficult. Some days are worse than others, but today was by far the worst. I volunteer in the ECC-- Extended Care Center-- so my patients are all recovering and/or receiving physical therapy so they can return home. Well, most of them. One of the difficult things about working on that floor is the infamous white bracelet. The patients have a range of color coded bracelets, meaning anything from NPO (nothing by mouth) to an allergy caution. However, the white bracelet stands for DNR-- Do Not Resuscitate. These are generally rare, for most people are recovering from a surgery or an amputation and are working towards going home. But for those few others, they are receiving extended care until they pass away.

The first day of volunteering I met Mr. E. He was in a bad mood. As I came in to change his water pitcher, he let me know it wasn't necessary-- in a not very nice way. The nurse inquired about his foul mood and suggested he cheer up. To this he replied: "What do I have to be happy about??"

He had a point. Lying in a hospital bed, too old and fragile to care for oneself does not give one many reasons to be optimistic. I admit, I wrote him off as 'the grumpy old man' that first day.

My second week of volunteering presented the opportunity to feed Mr. E his dinner. I was not looking forward to this, for more reasons than his expected negative demeanor. His eating skills were now reversed by old age to that of an infant's, and my gag reflexes are easily triggered. But we successfully made it through dinner, and to my surprise, he gave me a heartfelt thank you at the end of the meal.

Things were different from then on.. he always declined a refill on water, but happily. When I fed him again, he was always grateful, even getting to the point where he'd ask me before dinner if I'd be the one to feed him.

After almost 5 months of volunteering, I'd never gotten an affirmative answer when asking if he needed a refill. One day, I came in and he said "I think I need some water." I was ecstatic. It seems so silly, but finally, after all those months he needed me to refill his water. I even said something as I passed the nursing station: "Mr. E needs water! He never needs water!" (They stared at me in utter confusion).

But back to the present. Today was hard. It was full of more smells than usual and more demands than usual, like "I think I need my bedpan... right now." Mr. E was always my last stop of the day. I coasted into his room, eager to finish the rounds, and looked to his bed. It wasn't Mr. E. It was a new patient. Mr. E was gone.

I was sick last week and didn't volunteer, so I'm not sure when exactly it happened. I didn't have to ask; it really didn't matter. I knew the day would come when he wouldn't be in there, but this knowledge still didn't prepare me.

I checked the new guy's water and thought I was done for the day, but curiously, the very last room in the hallway, the one past Mr. E's old room had a name tag. I entered this room for the first time ever and it was extremely well decorated. In addition to the hospital bed, there was a nice chair, a nice couch, beautiful light fixtures and paintings on the wall. The tile was new, clean and fancy. On my way to refill this new patient's water, I stopped by the nurses' station. I asked the nurse on duty the question I already knew the answer to: "Why is the room at the end so nice?"

"That's our hospice room."

A double dose of death in one day.

I understand people wanting to believe in an afterlife. Death is harsh. Death can be sudden. Death is always sad. Death is very final. This is why life is so valuable. Life is precious. Life won't always be there, and those around you won't always be there. Appreciate them. Love. Don't waste your life on trivial things. Live life the best and the fullest you can. Make a difference.

I hope I made a small difference in Mr. E's life.