As I watched the video she made in support of her choice, read related articles and listened to various professionals debate both sides of the issue of physician-assisted suicide or a patient's right-to-die or death with dignity (choose your term), my mind went back to a very different death experience and the beautiful gift of hospice.
Residential hospice is where Pam spent the last few days of her life. She was tenderly and compassionately cared for by physicians, nurses and others who also lovingly supported those of us keeping vigil. That became a place of gathering, of laughter, of tears, of camaraderie. It brought together family and friends from every aspect of her life. Many of us had nothing in common except our love for her and in those last few days, that love bound us together as we sat by her bedside and spent those last fleeting moments with the woman who had touched each of us in ways only she could.
Over that weekend, we pretty much took over the kitchen/common area as we shared snacks and stories and memories. I was concerned that other families and guests might feel overwhelmed or bothered by our presence. But I think instead it may have been a gift to them, the gift of seeing us celebrate the life of the one we loved, to find joy in the midst of pain, to find support from those we knew well or barely knew.
Hospice was a gift to Pam and a gift to the ones she loved. We knew she was well cared for and kept as comfortable as possible, even as we knew we could do little for her except be by her side. And the ability to be by her side, to serve her in whatever small ways we could, was a lovely gift in the midst of significant pain.
Hospice was a safe place for her and for us, and I will be forever grateful to the men and women who serve as hospice workers and volunteers.
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