The Power of Presence

It was a Monday, like any other Monday and I had a new patient to assess. Talking to the hospice nurse before I made my visit I learned that Violet had been admitted on Friday in stable condition was expected to be with us a few weeks. The nurse thought I would find her delightful. Violet lived in an extended care facility and had no local family.

I brought music cds and a player with me to all visits in extended care facilities. I find that quiet reflective music helps transform facility space into sacred space so that what needs to happen can happen.

When I arrived at Violet’s room I found a very different woman than the nurse described. She was not responding to my voice or my touch. Her face was pinched, grimacing and pale. She was restlessly picking at everything and her breathing was shallow.

I changed gears quickly as I realized that she was actively dying and I notified the nursing staff immediately of the change in condition…then I got to work.

I set up the music and rearranged some furniture in her space so that I could be closer to her. I provided some energy healing to promote physical and emotional comfort and then began to read to her in a soft voice.

I have a booklet of poems that I’ve written over the years about dying, death and grief. They seem to speak to matters deep within that the dying sometimes have a difficult time addressing.

As I read the poems and did the energy work, I saw Violet transform. Her face that was pinched, softened and had a glow to it. Her hands that were restless and picking were now resting calmly at her sides. Her breathing was shallow and slow. Her whole presence had shifted by the time I read the last poem.

I spoke to her with reassuring words of intuitive compassion and support, after which I sat silent and provided energetic support while the music played and she did her internal work.

Suddenly, Violet sat straight up with a smile on her face and outstretched her arms. Her eyes were open and she was definitely looking at someone as she wrapped her arms around her chest as if pulling them in for a hug.

She laid back down and a few short minutes later she took her last breath.

This experience was so inspiring to me that I wrote another poem to add to my booklet. The last line of which reads, “her last breath promising much more than her first.”

When I called to notify the hospice nurse she was completely surprised by this rapid transition.

Death is not just a medical event and we do a disservice when we treat it as such. I read recently that death is a ‘physical expression of a spiritual experience’ and I find that to be very accurate.

I often tell families that dying is holistic: mind, body and spirit. And that all three need to be on the same page to have a peaceful experience. Sometimes two can be on one page and the third be on another and death is prolonged in an agonizing fashion.

My experience with Constance was much different than with Violet. Constance was also admitted on a Friday but was not expected to live until Monday. Monday came though, and she was still with us. When I visited her she was alert, but not eating or speaking. She drank only sips of water through a straw.

The family thought she was waiting for the youngest child to come in from out of town. While everyone was talking about Constance’s death, no one was talking to her about it.

I encouraged the family to begin to share the things on their hearts related to their grief over the impending loss. This was quite difficult for most family members as they had a deep belief that it was morbid to “talk like that.”

I helped them find wording that fit into their belief system, but still allowed the sentiment to be shared. The youngest child did arrive from out of town , but to everyone’s surprise Constance held on.

In fact, Constance even woke up out of her unresponsive state, able to speak just a few words and answer questions with yes or no. This went on for a few weeks before Constance finally took her last breath one night while everyone was asleep.

What was it that finally allowed Constance to let go? We will never know, but I think that by speaking the words on their hearts, Constance received what she needed in order to transition at last.

I know I make a difference in the lives and deaths of those I touch. I don’t have a marketing plan or advertising copy. I just have my heart and my need to be of service. But somehow I need to share my stories so that those who need me know I am available.

What I do as an end of life specialist is not usual, customary, formulated or predictable. I can’t promise you anything other than authenticity and compassion to serve your highest good.

But I do promise to be there every step of the way.

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