Morning Friend,According to the unwritten "code" on the Palliative Care Ward at St. Boniface General Hospital, "no-one dies alone".Despite that fact that no person, not even a doctor can predict exactly how long a dying person has, there are definite physiological signs near the very end which are synonymous with someone's last hours.It is at that point in time that family members who may not already be at the bedside are notified.It is at that point that reluctant goodbyes are softly encouraged to those present who may still be in a state of denial or are perhaps yet praying for a miracle.Such a sight of soft comforting caresses and whispered loving murmurings at the end of one's journey is at times as powerfully beautiful as a Mother's loving embrace at its' beginning.There are occasions when family must travel from out of town or have just left the hospital for a break when this crisis stage arrives.Or in some cases sadly where the patient has no family.This is where the "code" comes into play and staff members take turns at the bedside until family members, or the end, arrives.Unlike the nurses who have other patients' ongoing issues to mind, the bulk of this bedside duty was often gladly undertaken by yours truly.I have as yet in my life experienced nothing as profoundly humbling or soulfully illuminating as this communion with the dying.To whisper softly, "It's O.K. now....you're alright....it's O.K. to go now..." as you caress the worries out of a furrowed brow and grasp their cooling hand in a loving farewell as the Good Lord blessedly takes it into His own.And you have MEANT those last words because it IS "O.K."....for that person's winding road of life has led them to this safe and spiritual place of earthly disembarkation where the fellow seeing them off is pretty much "A.O.K." !What little you know of that person and their life, and whatever is going on in your life, become instantly insignificant to the poignant sharing of two heartbeats; one slow and hearty, the other weakly fluttering....until there is just one.You don't have to experience that too many times before you develop a pretty fair appreciation for the beauty, fragility and calculably finite nature of life.My own journey has been beset with a plethora of terrains and at times, pitfalls, but the years where my "road" was a hospital hallway accompanying those in their final mile was paved with supreme and sacred honor.Now my friend, you're wondering "why?... on such a gorgeous summer morning Ab, are you writing about something so "bleak"???Well it's because death is a part of life... it just happens to come at the end.So until you get there, which you will too soon enough, I just felt like offering a friendly reminder - especially on such a fortuitously fantastic day.....to GET LIVING!And also to say that any "problem" that life throws at you, short of a terminal illness, is just that: a problem short of a terminal illness.And as a special Monday BONUS, I'd like to share a tribute I wrote to the "special" ( a word which doesn't nearly do them justice), people who work with the terminally ill.At St. Boniface the ward is now located on the 8th floor but this was written at the time they transferred from the 3rd.....thus the reference to "Highway #3".God bless them... bless you....share the blessings!love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live (compassionately)
The Rest Stop ( on Highway #3 ) by tImMy
Here did lone stars tarry between heaven and earth
Singe-winged angels found rest, redemption and safe passage
Here is where weary travelers paused between life and rebirth
Here did fretful souls strengthen thou bodies failed
No tear-soaked pillow could extinguish the fire of a lifetime
Here; the port from where valiant ships of destiny sailed
Here were last steps taken; uncertain and exquisite as the first
the intervening miles of triumph and tragedy were sustaining memories
Here the best was provided for those at their worst
The walls still echo with the passion of those who cared here
Their comforting faith rendered desperation into something somehow manageable
Here the floors are stained by those who managed all but their own tears
Here were forged fierce bonds of camaraderie, devotion and love
Many found purpose and exaltation within a phenomenal team
Days ended with the gratitude of strangers and the favor of God above
Here is where life's trivialities were treated inconsequentially
Everyone seemed to know a happier farmer on a rainy day
Here is where every easy breath was cherished exponentially
Here is where suffering became rapture and wretchedness glee
Heroes reigned on either side of a bedrail;
scientists and truckers, poets and housewives
Here is where the dying ceased, at the Rest Stop, on Highway # 3
Here did lone stars tarry between heaven and earth
Singe-winged angels found rest, redemption and safe passage
Here is where weary travelers paused between life and rebirth
Here did fretful souls strengthen thou bodies failed
No tear-soaked pillow could extinguish the fire of a lifetime
Here; the port from where valiant ships of destiny sailed
Here were last steps taken; uncertain and exquisite as the first
the intervening miles of triumph and tragedy were sustaining memories
Here the best was provided for those at their worst
The walls still echo with the passion of those who cared here
Their comforting faith rendered desperation into something somehow manageable
Here the floors are stained by those who managed all but their own tears
Here were forged fierce bonds of camaraderie, devotion and love
Many found purpose and exaltation within a phenomenal team
Days ended with the gratitude of strangers and the favor of God above
Here is where life's trivialities were treated inconsequentially
Everyone seemed to know a happier farmer on a rainy day
Here is where every easy breath was cherished exponentially
Here is where suffering became rapture and wretchedness glee
Heroes reigned on either side of a bedrail;
scientists and truckers, poets and housewives
Here is where the dying ceased, at the Rest Stop, on Highway # 3
