My Elderly Lover

Ah my sweet elderly lover.

Your skin, soft like velvet and squishy like a beanbag.

Your hair long and stringy like hay (your old, its ok my dear).

She really was a sweetie tho, quite gentle. Judging by her murmurings she seemed to think i was someone she had known or spent some time with. She had quite a bit of energy as did her roommate. Where she was focused on doing her chores (which included folding blankets and arranging bits and pieces), her roommate was more focused on doling out orders and long conversations (with noone). Often, interspersed with the commentary/conversation, she would bang on the bed in a matter of fact way.

Please note that that differs GREATLY from nonsensical banging in which the patient seems to be banging with no goal in sight and more often then not simply for the noise. In this case, the patient was banging almost to punctuate certain points.

As the night grew longer new activities were found by my lovely lady. With her neighbour passed out from all that babbling and ordering around (its tough work you know, people test the patience more than you can imagine) we found a new activity. Stuffing a matt into my shirt sleeve. I really truly wish I could figure out what she was doing/thinking.

Everything up until that point had been menial tasks that one would do if one was spending alot of time around the house, folding, wiping stuff down etc etc (all from bed, not necessarily with actual objects). This activity of all things did not register as anything I had heard about in the past or present time. Could it have been her alzheimers kicking in?

After she 'finished' her chores, she would attempt to get out of bed in a feeble well intended manner. Each time, i would help her back into bed, she would immediately forget she was trying to get out and lie back down for a moment.

It was maddening.

Each time this occured i would ask if there was anything i could do for her. Finally, after the 100th time, she looked at me dead in the eye and said

"All i want to do, is hold you tight".

I responded (playing it cool) "Thanks"

Her immediate response was "I love you" which was obviously followed on my part with "i love you too".

I should have known things were headed this way when she kissed my wrist.

Please stay tuned, i promise the next entry will be a treat, its about Ol Scotch.
Dude was AMAZING.

Deathbed

For the most part the patients were either bedstricken or capable of walking but not necessarily all there mentally. I did however have 2 particular exceptions 1) a man who was a doctor and on suicide watch (ill tell you more about this fellow later) and 2) a man who was on the brink of death (who i will tell you about here).

With most other patients you had to entertain them in one manner or another, whether it was parcheesi or stopping them from tugging at their tubes and or hitting you/themselves. This situation was a little bit simpler. The poor old bird was laid up in bed dying slowly from what i diagnosed as cancer. Granted im not a doctor so it was probably something other then cancer. Regardless I had to keep an eye on her machine and should she flatline i was to alert the nurses.

The nurses by the way were absolutely adorable. I spose it comes with the job of working in the palliative unit. I somehow doubt families would be comforted with the thought of Nurse Rachet watching over their dying relative. Regardless these women were sympathy incarnate. It was as if i was dying and they were to look over me. Theyd walk in every 20 minutes offering pillows, juice, blankets and breaks. Christ, they sent me home 2 hours early AND i got paid for the whole 12.

God bless em all.

Admittedly it was a grim situation so really someone had to make the best of it. The poor thing looked as if she was ready to expire (not in the sense that she was sick but in the sense that she looked a thousand years old). It was at this point that she really was a shell of a human. There was nothing left for her in this world. Thankfully she wasnt hooked up to lifesupport so it wasnt a matter of someone pulling (or not pulling) the plug. It was more an issue of when she decided to go.

Im not lying when i say these things, I may be understood as twisted having written and thought this at the time.

I wanted her to die.

Now there are two reasons behind this, the first being the most obvious.

She was using up alot of electricity.
Just kidding.

As mentioned previous She looked as if it was her time.

It really did.
Now for all the hurt that one feels when a loved one passes away there is always the knowledge (or sometimes the knowledge) that they are in a better place.

I can first hand say that ANYWHERE was better then that room at that time.

Then again i was alive, able to breath and run and was paid to be there, so i suppose one could argue that that hardly counts as a valid opinion...

The second reason was that I wanted to experience death first hand.

Now before you get carried away i dont mean that in the sense that I wanted to watch her gasp for her last breath as I forced a pillow down on her soft face. It was more the case that I was genuinely curious to see someone that im somewhat detached from (im not a total sociopath here thank you) pass in a relatively natural manner.

It was genuine curiousity, not a god complex.

I suppose in hindsight that palliative care isnt really the place to look for that as most people there are in particularly shitty situations. Then again that could be used as a justification for a desire to see them dead. See the vicious circle? Prob not, YOU prob dont wanna see anyone die.
Fffft.
Prude.