What's so great about dying?

Jim was another country guy. He lived on a little working farm where he had built his house 45 years ago. The area grew up around him and he refined his little homestead over the years. The house was on a bluff overlooking the surrounding flatlands and bay. Behind him was the Mountain still First Growth timber on it and he owned most of it. He had married his sweetheart 60 years ago and had a family of boys. They were all country folk with a strong sense of civic duty inherited from their dad who had been a charter member of the Volunteer Fire Department, Boy Scouts, and Search and Rescue. Everyone for miles around knew his name.

Time had decided it had been too kind to him and sped things up. His wife became pleasantly confused and was no longer able to cook or manage general household tasks. She was prone to asking for her father and mother. He held his own denying any ailments until a lump interferred with some essential function.
The diagnosis: Cancer.
The prognosis: 3 to 6 months.

It had been six months since his surgery and diagnosis. The family were having trouble coping with things and service was established 2 times daily. I had him on my list 5 out of 5 nights. The first night he told me he did not require any service but possibly I could talk to him.
His sons were polar opposites. One took me aside before I got to his Dad's room and asked me to try to do as much as I could. A moment later the other popped out of another room to tell me that his dad was a very private person and to do the minimum allowed.

The end of the first week came, and he was re-assessed as pps 30.
Basically bedridden, unable to care for his own needs is what this means.

I walked in the door one night after driving 50 kms from the previous client and went in to see him.

"Oh it's the CHEERFUL one," he said.
"Is that bad?" I answered.
"Hmm, not sure yet".

I was doing something or other in the other room and came back in to see him and he had a sour look on his face.

"I want to know why you are so happy", he asked brusquely.
"Hmmm," I said naughtily, "I am not sure yet".
I poked him lightly in the tummy and he laughed out loud for the first time.

After that night he talked my head off every visit and let me do things he had previously not allowed. He had been lying in bed too long in the same place for too many nights and he had some nasty sores. I taught one of the sons the fine art of pillowing and within a few days we had the sores under control. His pain was another matter.

Cancer pain is the worst pain a human being can be in. Alot of people do not realise that the hidden curse of treating cancers is that the prolonging of a life means the increasing of the pain.
If a person does not manage the pain by the prescribing of very potent drugs in dosages that would kill a horse they will experience more pain than ever God intended. These huge dosages scare many Nurses and Doctors. Some even write journal entries equating it with euthanasia.
How do I know this?

More research than you can imagine and unending education.
I really should have gone into Medicine as a first choice.
Puzzles fascinate me and I am an exceptionally fast reader retaining most information.
*I bet you are thinking right about now that I have a high opinion of myself.

If you can believe it, after getting on the Dean's list in College I almost failed Nursing over bedmaking. yes, you read right.... BED MAKING. That and condom catheters were my nemesis.

Luckily for me I mastered beds and catheters. Through Hospice I had the privilege of taking many workshops and meeting many world class Palliative Workers: Doctors, Nurses and just plain folks. I keep a lively correspondance with some very excellent health professionals.
I am an information junkie.

So now back to my country friend.
I learned in Hospice that when people live on when their body has failed them, there is something left undone. It was an interesting premise and one that resonated in me.
What did Jim have left to do? I had no idea nor was it any of my business but seeing him wasting away was horrific.

"Hey cheerful!"
"Hey Jim!"
The smell in the room was awful. I had to mention to the family the old tip of putting kitty litter under the hospital bed to absorb the odour of decay.
"Get my gun".
"uh... can you say that again?"
"My gun dammit get my gun."
"Sir I am not going to do that."
"Tell my son to get my gun and take me out and shoot me".
"Jim... you know he isnt going to do that".
"It would be alot kinder than this. I treated my dog better. JUST SHOOT ME!"

I sat down beside him and held his hand.
"Sir, there has to be some reason God is keeping you here'".
"God? Are you kidding? God? I hate God. Why would God do this to anyone".
I was sad and silent.
"Damn it cheerful, what's so great about dying?"

I looked at his eyes welling over with tears of frustration. I looked slowly around the room. There were letters and cards and even a newspaper article or two.
"Jim: Wouldn't you say that the measure of a man is how he is remembered by others?"
"yes I expect so."
" Well *I* think that most people equate their success with what they have done in life and who loves them. I see here you have touched the entire community, all these people trying to wish you well and your family is here day and night just loving you wanting it to be all right for you."
He was silent.
"I think you are a pretty damned successful fellow Sir. God put some of his love in you and you shared it with the whole place here. And now it's time for you to go on home."
"You mean the guy upstairs?"
"Yes."
"How do I get there?"
How indeed.

We are prohibited by the rules of our Employer to mention any religion or try to promote our faith but there are times as a Human Being you have to speak the truth to your brother man.
I held his hand and told him that nobody really wants to die but if you have to die it is pretty cool to have the whole town on your side thinking about you and praying for you. I told him his sons were wonderful men just like their dad. I told him I believed Heaven was waiting for him if he would just clear it with God and his family.

It was my last visit with him, and he kissed me before I went. Both the sons came out when I left, both bleary eyed. There was a baby moniter in his room and the whole time I was in there the sons had been sitting in the kitchen listening.
"Thank you for talking about death with Dad. He never let us mention it."

I had two days off. The second day I woke up with a happy smile and a laugh and to my surprise I was saying: "Goodbye mr. Jimmy." It was a very surreal moment. Later that day,
I called the Office.
Jim had died around the time I woke up.

God Bless you Mr. Jimmy
See you on the other side.

"The love we give away is the only love we keep."
-- Elbert Hubbard