Passing Thoughts

4 Jan

As regular readers will know, I have had a bit of a rough December dealing with my mother’s failing health. When last I visited this topic, she had suffered a serious heart attack, followed by a debilitating stroke. I was bemoaning the fact she might live out the rest of her days in a crowded and noisy ward, although this appeared to be more of an issue with me than my mother. Even without the gift of speech, her drollery did not fail her. When her doctor at the CCH was assessing the impact of her stroke, she signaled her disagreement with his statement that she couldn’t move her right hand. When challenged on this, my mother promptly picked up her immobile appendage with her left hand and repositioned it on the bed. As if to say, “see, I can move my right hand.”

Luckily for us, and I hope my mother, the Hospice Cornwall did an intake assessment and offered us a suite in their amazing facility. For those of you who have never visited the Carefor hospice at 1507 Second Street West, I urge you to do so. Their role is to provide palliative care, allowing persons in the final stage of their life (and their friends and family) meet death with dignity. To quote from the hospice’s web site:

“Palliative care… is the combination of active and compassionate therapies intended to support individuals and families who are living with a life-threatening illness. During periods of illness and bereavement, palliative care strives to meet physical, psycho social, social and spiritual expectations and needs, while it remains sensitive to personal, cultural and religious values, beliefs and practices.”

Mother was transferred to the hospice on December 23rd and our relief was palpable. Even though her life force dimmed over the following days, her stay generated fond memories we will carry forever… including the last Christmas morning we spent with her as part of our family. Amazingly, she was able to rouse herself a bit to enjoy spending a few hours in the company of her offspring, their families and even her great grandchild, Maya.

But Thom’s grip on life was tenuous at best. And she died (I’ve never been a big one on euphemisms for death) at 6:48 PM on January 1, 2017. One of the excellent hospice nurses was by her bedside and told me that she left this world very peacefully, without pain or discomfort. While I regret not being there at the exact transitory moment, I’m glad I had spent many hours with her earlier in the day. Who can tell if my touches and one-sided conversation had any measurable effect, but I know this time alone with her comforted me.

And the compassion the Hospice Cornwall showed for my mother throughout her brief stay did not end with her passing. It extended to her leaving their care as well. To begin with, a candle was lit in her memory just inside the front entrance… on a shelf above the “farewell quilt” that I had failed to notice standing sentinel as I passed by so many times before. Hospice tradition holds that this quilt is to be draped over the deceased as he or she is rolled to the hearse. And Thom was no exception.

They also downloaded one of Thom’s favourite tunes, to be played as the small procession made its way to the black vehicle waiting outside. Verna Lynn’s plaintive song from World War II, The White Cliffs of Dover, matched the mood of the occasion perfectly while Terry, the hospice staff and I watched as Thom’s remains were lifted into the hearse and it drove ever so slowly down the drive. Through pure happenstance, the song came to an end precisely when the vehicle turned the corner and disappeared from sight. It was then that Terry pointed out the single star that twinkled in the night sky above Thom’s departure route.

Terry and I then returned to Suite #1 and packed up the decorations and mementos that we had brought in an attempt to comfort Thom in her final days. The car loaded, we said our final thank yous to the two nurses and the PSW on duty and wended our way sadly, and silently, home.

About half of the Hospice Cornwall’s operating budget of comes from fundraising. They rely on donations from the community to help provide 24-hour care for those in need… and not just Cornwall residents. They serve end-of-life patients all across our region, including Dunvegan. There are many ways in which you can give to the Cornwall Hospice, from on-line donations and monthly pledges to planned giving as a part of your will or In Memoriam gifts. I urge you to consider one of them.

Thank you all for your help and support during this difficult time. I wish you peace and good fortune in the year ahead.

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