Nancy

Nancy was a Hospice patient who I came to know over the past several months through visiting her as a Volunteer Eucharistic Minister.  She passed away on Monday, and she has been in my thoughts so many times this past week, that I thought it was about time I write about her and perhaps sort out the why.  

As much as we know that Hospice patients pass away, Nancy always appeared to be a visitor.  Every time I stopped by, without fail, I would enter her room and there she was, fully dressed, sitting on her freshly made bed, either reading a book or chatting on the phone.  This is such a departure from the typical Hospice patient scenario.  She would spend her days reading, talking and visiting with friends, and often went out to lunch with “the girls” or with her son. 

She always seemed to hunger for the outside world.  Each visit she would start by asking me about my family, my plans for the day, or what I did on my weekend.  I really enjoyed our visits and felt compelled to bring her little morsels of life on the outside.  She had a jovial spirit and a serious side.  We would laugh at kid stories, and she would give me advice about my college daughter.  We talked of subjects ranging from literature & politics to hairdressers & restaurants.   

I felt bad that her husband was in poor health but still living at home, while her son lived 3 hours away and her daughter lived in Texas.  She never complained, except for one self-proclaimed pity party she had prior to the holidays.  She realized that she wouldn’t be able to make her traditional Christmas cookies.  She was pouting to her son over the phone about it until he reminded her that she didn’t really enjoy making the cookies anymore anyway.  This got her laughing.  “So what? They’re just cookies!”  Clearly it was the inability to do the things that we are conditioned to do that brought her down, and rightly so.  She dusted off her bruised ego and laughed it off, and went on with the things that she was able to do. 

When you train to be a Hospice Volunteer, you are instructed to enter the room with no agenda, allowing the patient to know that you are there solely for them and their needs.  I often wish I could selfishly dig into their psyche.  What are their thoughts? Fears? Regrets? What unique knowledge that only they possess based on their life experience would they wish to share with the world?  If only I could download this valuable information onto a hard drive.  We could all sync in and be enlightened. 

I’ve searched the Internet daily for her obituary.  Nothing. 

This is what I know for sure about Nancy.  She loved her family. She was proud of her kids.  She was a lifelong learner and avid reader.  She had dear friends to the end.  She shared herself and her thoughts without being imposing.  She made the most of a bad situation. And, most importantly, she was in Communion with God.  She highly recommended one of the last books she read, Tattoos on the Heart.  I’m reading that next.

God bless you Nancy, my friend.