This morning we were phoned by Simon's attached hospice nurse at nine thirty. She suggested that we should get over there sooner rather than later which sounded rather ominous though unsurprising. Normal visiting hours are between two and seven.
We arrived at lunchtime and were taken to Simon's spacious room - The Princess Diana Suite. There was even a framed picture of her by the door. She was smiling coyly as princesses are wont to do.
The hospice was modern, very clean and immaculately presented. Simon was lying in his hospital bed, unable to converse or communicate his basic needs. His eyes were closed or half open. He has been receiving sedation and occasional painkilling injections. He isn't even drinking any more and if he had died this afternoon - just drifted away - it would not have been a surprise.
Quietly, I sang three songs to him - "Waltzing Matilda", "The Skye Boat Song" and "Lavender's Blue Dilly Dilly". Shirley played him some tunes on her smartphone including "Scarborough Fair"and two songs recorded by our talented niece Katie. One of these caused my eyes to leak.
I held his hand and stroked his hair and put an ice cube to his lips. It is doubtful that he even knew we were there.
The staff were lovely and understanding. It takes special people to care for the dying - to see them on their way in peace and without pain. I am very grateful for their service.
We are planning to travel back to Hull on Wednesday but that journey may not happen because he could so easily die tonight or tomorrow.. And when he goes, all of his demons and unrealised dreams will go with him. Sixty six years is not the longest life to be lived by far but for Simon it seems sufficient. I stroked his arm and tidied his hair and wished him "sweet dreams".
I'm thankful Simon is being well cared for and that he can die without pain. Perhaps death is the only way to escape our demons. Sending hugs to you and Shirley.
ReplyDeleteYou know more about such scenarios than most. Your kind wishes are received with gratitude.
DeleteOops, that got to me.
ReplyDeleteFind a hanky Andrew.
DeleteYou've done a very special thing for Simon and I, for one, thank you. As we pass on, it's nice to have someone there who knew us "when."
ReplyDeleteThanks for your kind comment Bob. Appreciated.
DeleteIt's a waiting game. It should be over but takes it's time. It's good that he is being well looked after.
ReplyDeleteHe is/was a tough guy in many ways.
DeleteI am convinced that they can here. My mother was unresponsive. I said my goodbyes and prepared to leave knowing that I'd never see her alive again. As I walked out of the room, there was an unmistakable sign that she'd heard me and loved me. I treasure that moment because we weren't close, and it is all that I really had.
ReplyDeleteI am pleased that my blogpost stirred that sweet memory Debby.
DeleteI am very glad to hear Simon is getting such loving care on his final journey. My own dad refused pain injections because he believed he had to pay for them. They were free for him, being an aged pensioner, but no one had told him that. I told him when he mentioned it and I believe he accepted them in the days after I left to come home.
ReplyDeleteThat is so tragic, it is almost funny - paying for pain injections.
DeleteIt is difficult to see someone you care for slipping away like that.
ReplyDeleteYour post today has revived sad memories of my dad's last days.
I know you really loved him.
DeleteI am so moved by your words, Mr pudding.
ReplyDeleteI have no brothers or sisters but if I did, one like you would be wonderful.
Sending heartfelt kind wishes to you all. Xx
What a lovely thing to say Christina. Thank you.
DeleteIn the end, Simon has chosen the right place where he can leave this world with dignity. Your post brought tears to my eyes, less of sadness, more of being touched by it all on a deep emotional level.
ReplyDeleteYou have been a good friend to me Meike and I thank you for your kindness.
DeleteSimon was at home just a few days ago and now he is almost gone. I find that remarkable. He must have some powers of persistence?
ReplyDeleteI'm pleased to hear he has some peace about things.
I like your photo of the Thames, the lighting and subtle colours are just perfect
It has been a swift demise but I understand that when cancer patients enter hospices, they rarely survive more than a few days.
DeleteI think there comes a point when we are ready to go.
ReplyDeleteThe drugs must cloud the previous clarity.
DeleteIt's such an emotional time for you, YP. May Simon slip away peacefully.
ReplyDeleteI just spoke to today's assigned nurse. She used the term "sliding away".
DeleteA very moving post YP. It brings it all back when my parents were departing this life. Great photos.
ReplyDeleteCheers Dave.
DeleteBeing there is good enough. For me it brought back memories of sitting by Paul every day in the hospital. He just slept and passed from one world to another in his sleep. Simon will also find that peace.
ReplyDeleteNot long now Thelma and he will be where your Paul went.
DeleteYou captured London's modern shapes, and whether or not you intended the fading light to be symbolic, it seemed somehow fitting for the rest of your sad post.
ReplyDeleteThank you Tigger and it was intentional.
DeleteSuch a sad time for you. I would like to think that he could hear you singing.
ReplyDeleteWho knows? Even the hospice nurses don't know if dying patients hear.
DeleteThere comes a time when the release from life actually seems a better option. It sounds like Simon is at that point. Nice London photos -- all looking very familiar!
ReplyDeleteYou are right Steve. He has reached that point.
DeleteNow that he is comfortable and properly medicated, he may well ease into death. I am SO glad that he is in hospice where these things can happen, where soothing hands and voices can help him to let go and move on to that other side.
ReplyDeleteHe has gone there now Mary. As the nurse said, he just slid away.
DeleteThat's a lovely way to spend your time with Simon. I am so glad he agreed to go to the hospice. It takes the worry of death away from you and him so he can go in peace.
ReplyDeleteAnd now I know that when I said "sweet dreams", they were the last words I would ever say to him. He has gone.
DeleteLike Debby above, I think they can hear even if they aren't responsive. I read a letter from my daughter to my mom on her death bed and when I had finished, there was a hitch in her breath though she hadn't been responsive otherwise for two days prior. She passed away the next morning as I held her hand. It is a memory that I think about often.
ReplyDeleteI think people pass away quickly at hospice because they are separated from all their previous trappings of life and can be at peace. Prayers for the both of you.
What a beautiful moment you shared with your mother Ed. Very special. You are probably right about hospices. Now Simon has gone too.
DeleteA beautiful post which made my eyes leak too.
ReplyDelete