Closing In

When I first came aboard hospice care, one of the most common topics patients would reminisce about was World War II. Fortunately I had enough historical knowledge for them to feel I was on the same page. Now, about fifteen years since I first worked as a chaplain, their reminiscences are more often about the Vietnam War. Same goes for music. Patients are starting to talk about songs I grew up with!

On the one hand, it’s nice to have more of a shared background with my patients. I can chime in with my own memories if they refer to Nixon or to the Moody Blues.  On the other, I don’t want to have all that much in common with my patients if you know what I mean. It is a reminder that as a sixty-something, I am edging nearer and nearer to the same final curtain that has started its descent upon them. I am also having to care for patients more and more often who are my age or younger.

A gentleman I met at an open mike event last week was bursting to talk with me. I had just read a portion from my hospice career book about a patient who liked to refer to me as “doll” and who knew the game for him was just about over. This gentleman who I will call Sebastian was in his seventies and was grappling with some recent deaths in his family. The memorable piece of his story was that he felt “selfish” for pondering his own mortality. In the same breath he told me that given his age, he fears death more than ever. In other words he felt guilty (See my last post on this most entrenched of emotions stemming from loss. That is, forget about trying to talk someone out of it). When I asked Sebastian what was selfish about thinking about his own death, he said, “I should be thinking of the person who died, and I should be helping my uncle.” As I think about this now, his dilemma was that his fears were overriding his efforts to honor the deceased and console his relatives. And when I told him it was normal to think about one’s own end in these circumstances, he said, “It may be normal, but it is still selfish.”  I nodded my agreement, because as I explained in my last post, it is useless to try to talk anyone out of their guilt. All I can do is ask probing questions and make comments that can increase self-awareness and self-discovery. Perhaps feeling selfish was his method for distracting himself from his fears.  Ah, the complexities of the human psyche! This reminds me we should never be so quick to think we have figured someone out and therefore know what they need or should do.

As for me, I do not feel selfish about focusing on my own demise as I serve my clients. In fact, it gives me more in common with them! But the downside as I hinted in the beginning is the fear of, among other things, a premature end. I am glad in my case that fear has won over guilt because fear can be tamped down as I learn from my patients, while relief from guilt is much harder to come by.

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To see my post about a client who did diminish my fears, see this entry from February 12th, 2018:  https://offbeatcompassion.wordpress.com/2018/02/12/how-to-have-the-final-farewell-without-fear/

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3 thoughts on “Closing In

  1. sanderamage says:

    Great read! Thanks.
    I think contemplating one’s own mortality is an absolutely liberating experience. I have a small skull on my desk that reminds me of my mortality all day, every day. Somehow that grounds me in the more.

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    • My readers would surely wonder what you mean by a “liberating experience.” Can you say more? As for me, I have plenty of reminders without a skull “on top” of everything else.

      Like

      • sanderamage says:

        Hello again.
        The practice of living with a skull on your desk is a pretty ancient one. Medieval philosophers did it as an everyday event and I’ve been pretty taken with that as death has been a pretty close companion throughout my life and I’ve had to make friends with it.

        Here’s a blog post I did about it ages ago that might offer something. https://spiritedcrone.co.nz/living-with-my-desk-skull/

        It seems to me that making friends with death and inviting her in for a cuppa around the kitchen table, or to sit on the bed, is a wonderful way to engage with it. I often find myself talking like that with people who are struggling with their own impending death. Cry heart, but never break is an outstanding book in this regard. https://www.brainpickings.org/2016/03/08/cry-heart-but-never-break/

        Happy to answer any questions …
        Sande

        Like

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