Hard Day on Hall 300

My office is a hub of love and loneliness. I sit smack dab in the middle of the building. If I turn my chair around in a circle, I can see Hall 100, Hall 200, Hall 300 and Hall 400. Each hall has its own heartbeat and rhythm. Each hall is full of people who have loneliness, longing, pain, fear, laughter, hope, and love.

Of course, we want them all to have plenty of love

However, it is not always so. Some folks have adoring families, that move heaven and earth to make sure their loved one has the attention they need and want. Some have caring people who come in, after a long day’s work, to assure them that they still are loved Then there are others who are forgotten by the children they brought up, some who are estranged from their families, and some who no longer have anyone at all.

All of the halls have compassionate staff members who manage to juggle the heartbeats of all concerned. Today, three heartbeats stopped in Hall 300.

The day was filled with tears, hugs, and condolences. Even the jaded "seen everything" nurses cried. Words seemed so inadequate today. Families, who knew the time was near, came to love and embrace their dear ones. Sons, daughters, sisters, brothers, nieces, nephews and grandchildren asked for forgiveness for the last time. And maybe for the first time, as well. Hall 300 was filled with all of the above, but, most of all, with God. His presence was everywhere, in the tears and hugs. We knew He was with the souls of those three who left us today.

An atmosphere of reverence surrounded us, in the way the Hospice people quietly consoled the grieving families, in the way other residents were lost in their own thoughts, and in the eyes of the nurses who witnessed the last breaths. He was there.

Mrs. P. was the first to depart. The first time I met her, she informed me that her first name, in Italian, meant “sweet ice cream.” Dolce. Such a pretty name for a lovely lady.

I loved saying it. She liked reading the paper, so I made sure to find one for her every evening. Her two sons always provided roses for her room. Both sons are big tough country boys, loving their mom even when she forgot that she was their mom.

Mr. R. left next. His wife and he had been living in separate facilities for the last 2 years. She was in the Alzheimer's facility down the street from our care center. They had one beautiful daughter who, each day, split her visiting time between the two of them. The couple were able to see each other several times during the first year apart. Until she forgot she was a wife. This was so hard on Mr. R., that he asked not to see her. Then, about a month ago, out of the blue, he asked to visit his wife again. Their daughter arranged the meeting, which was not without tears. He returned very sad and depressed. Mr. R knew she was still his lovely wife, but it was heartbreaking to realize that she no longer recognized that he was the devoted husband who took care of her until she needed more care then he could provide. She died one month ago. I think he needed to be with her again.

Mrs. D. was the last to leave. Though a little slip of a thing, she was a firecracker! She was a huge part of our many activities, such as The Red Hat Society and The Senior Council of Conduct. She was passionate about, and attended every Bingo game. Although she was a favorite of the staff, she was feared by some of her peers. They did not think it proper for a lady to speak her mind so loudly and so often. She had an opinion about everything, from the night owls to the scrubs worn by the nurses.

Our feisty lady was loved most by her granddaughter, who is a budding actress from Los Angeles. She is the daughter of Mrs. D's adopted son, who died some time ago. I had the pleasure of meeting her last year. This lovely young woman patterned herself after her much adored Nana. She would be heard, one way or another – on or off the screen. She said that Nana was her biggest supporter, who encouraged her to "go for it." When she came for the last time, she was able to bring the news that she had finished her first movie and had published her first children's book. Her Nana was so proud. Mrs. D. had been declining for about a month before this visit. They had four happy days of chatter and memories. It was as if she had waited to know that her much loved granddaughter would be okay. Then she would be free to leave in peace.

This place where I work is like no other. I am blessed to feel in touch with the heartbeat of life here. So, in turn, I pay close attention to the beating of hearts, all around.