Speaking in Plain Language
When I went to see this
young man I arrived at his mother’s hospital floor before him. We connected through a mutual friend who
thought I might be of some comfort or helpful.
It was almost 10:00 AM and I was
running late. Respectfully, I waited
outside his mother’s room until he arrived.
I have learned to stand in one spot, barely moving when I am visiting
someone in the hospital. Being
respectful and aware are the two most important things to me. My phone vibrated and he was calling from the
lobby. Visiting hours start at 11:00
AM. I looked at the hospitals website
before my visit. He said he was
downstairs waiting for 11:00.
“Visiting hours” I told him,
“are for other people. It’s not for you.
Hold your head up high and walk past the
sign. Act like you are a man in charge.” Minutes later the elevator door opened and a
tall handsome young man walked out already in a sad place and now feeling even
more vulnerable. My job was to help him
feel empowered while not taking any more of his power away.
He introduced me to his mother
who was unresponsive and at the end stages of cancer. The mask on her face, when removed to offer
her sips of a drink, caused her saturations to drop frighteningly low. He did not want his mother to have the discomfort
of this mask on her but the other masks weren’t working. We immediately started writing down the
things he wanted to talk to the doctor about.
The mask, her diet, her medications.
As he thought out loud, I wrote his thoughts and questions in a notebook
I brought for him to keep. He pulled
out a notebook and started writing too.
When the doctors came, along
with the young students in tow, the conversation turned to hospice and
palliative care. It was 10:30 in the
morning and before visiting hours. I now
realized why the family never had a conversation with the doctors in charge of
her care. By 11:00, they would be long
past this room and on to other patients.
The attending physician told
us that the palliative care team would be in to talk to him about his mother’s
care sometime today. I asked the
overwhelmed son if I may ask a question. “Sure” he said. “Does this mean he cannot use the bathroom,
have lunch or leave the room because he may miss the team?” I asked pointing at the young man standing
over me? “He has been waiting 5 days
already.” The doctor went into his jacket pocket,
pulled out a phone and called for the team to come up. Minutes later the doctor came with the
students again following.
The kind and gentle
physician who oversaw this department explained that to make her comfortable
they would give her medication so she can rest comfortably and take the mask
off. The conversation lasted less than
10 minutes. The physician asked what the
son wanted to do and we requested the doctor’s contact information so he can
decide. I asked if I can ask a question
and when the son said “yes”, I asked the doctor so the patient’s son could hear
clearly, “Are you saying that if you removed the oxygen and gave her medication
to rest comfortably, she will die?” The
doctor looked at me, at the son and back at me again and said. “Yes”.
Now, he can make an informed
decision. Family was called,
arrangements were made and she passed peacefully the next day. Her children hopefully, can live with no
regrets. Rest in Peace
