People will exclaim, “I just love nurse practitioners! What do you do?” Me (generally stated with a smile on my face), “I work in palliative care.” Response (generally stated with a sorrowful look), “Oh, that is so sad. That must be so hard.” There are certainly days when the work is hard, and sad. But mostly there are days that are a true blessing. I had the privilege and honor to serve a man and his family in his final moments…in their final moments together. You see, the work that I do allows me to bear witness to some of the most beautifully tragic moments in another person’s life. I am privileged to stand beside these families and patients in their moments of suffering and provide comfort and hope for peace at the end of their life.
James was a young man, husband, father, brother, musician, Christ-following man of God. He was dying of a brain tumor. In his final days, his family surrounded him with love. His wife made the brave decision to give him back to the Lord. She knew it was time and that his life here on Earth would simply not be good enough in the state he was in. At the appointed time, his family gathered beside his bed. There were at least 20 people in that room. The breathing tube had been removed. While he was breathing on his own, his breaths were few, gasping and agonal, though did not appear to be uncomfortable. With each breath his family gave words of thanks and praise to God for one more minute with him. In beautiful gospel voices they sang songs of worship. Sharing treasured family stories, they laughed and cried. His bishop offered up prayers for a peaceful passing and prayed for strength for his wife, children and family. He gave thanks to the Lord for James’ life and legacy. He reminded everyone that James was simply on loan to them and it was now time for James to go home.
As I quietly stood in the corner watching for signs of discomfort, I thought to myself, “Will I leave the same kind of legacy that this man has left? Am I getting it right, Lord?” After about an hour, James took his final breath. I had to confirm that he was gone. As I listened for heart tones and felt for a pulse, you could have heard a needle drop. I looked up at his wife and declared, “He is gone.” The sheer pain that emanated from his family cut me like a knife. His young daughter screamed and grabbed for her mother. She appeared as though she was literally drowning from grief and reaching to her mom to save her. I excused myself from the room, allowing them time to grieve together. And then I took a moment to fall apart myself.
As I reflect on this experience, I feel truly blessed to do the work that I do. It is my honor to be present with others during some of the most difficult times in their life. And I believe that God has given me the ability to be present during others’ pain. Amanda Gorman stated, “There’s always light, if only we’re brave enough to see it, if only we are brave enough to be it.” That my friends is palliative care.
John 3:16 states that “God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believed in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” I am certain that it is this hope that sustains his family. It is absolutely what sustains me.
(All names and ages have been changed to preserve privacy.)
2 responses to “A Man of God”
Keep doing what you are doing, Janelle. And keep writing about it. Reading about where your job takes you puts it on a whole new level for me. I am touched and blessed to read your words.
Thanks Aunt Barb! I certainly will!