comfort

One of the things I like best about Hospice is the concept of comfort measures.  Often, at the end of life, we aren't trying to fix or change or start something new.  We are just trying to make our patients comfortable.  
Sometimes that means a Social Worker helping you get finances in order, or make funeral plans.  Maybe it is a CNA coming to bath you and wash your hair.  Sometimes what is comforting is a Chaplain reading Psalms to you and holding your hands while they pray for you.  Sometimes it means Doctors and Nurses giving you good, strong drugs.  Comfort measure can be anything, from a back rub, a change in position, to a warm blanket or a cold popsicle.  Anything to get your brow unfurrowed, your breathing regular.  Anything to soothe and to give you some peace.

I got to be a part of this today.  Standing beside a patient's bed.  She was restless and moaning.  I watched our nurse put a cold washcloth on her head, give her medicine, hold her hand.  I rubbed her leg and spoke in soothing mommy tones.  And she changed.  She became calm.  She relaxed.  And then she fell asleep.  We had made her comfortable.  What a privilege.

When I looked up comfort measure online I found this wonderful etymology.  Comfort is from the Latin com meaning together and fortis meaning strong.  Together + strong = comfort.  I love that!  

Macaroni and cheese and chicken soup are comfort foods.  But who wants to eat them alone?  They are comforting because your mom makes it for you after a hard day, or a friend brings it over when you are sick.  Together + strong = comfort.

My son stood next to my bed the other night, announcing that he'd had a bad dream.  "Do you want to talk about it?"  I asked.  "No, I just want to be near you."  he said.  Together + strong = comfort.

It seems a little too simple.  Holding my husband's hand, hearing my mom's voice on the phone, getting a text from a friend = comfort.  Standing beside someone, touching them, talking to them, listening, caring.  Together + Strong.  Anyone can offer comfort measures at anytime.  After being reminded of how basic it is I want to comfort more and better.  And enjoy it more when I receive it.


I like this verse from 2 Corinthians that talks about a "near us" God and the circle of comfort.
       ⁴ God comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.  2 Corinthians 1:4  NLT

striped sheets

Nineteen years ago today I got engaged.  I was over-the-moon-happy and immediately began to plan my dream wedding and our happily ever after.  After a round of showers,  I had a beautiful set of pink floral dishes that I couldn't wait to serve dinner on in our new apartment.  I had a white, battenburg lace duvet cover and soft yellow towels.  At some point Steve surveyed the goods and complained that his manhood might be at stake.  In the spirit of premarital compromise I stomped off to Target and found a blueberry and white striped sheet set that I could live with.  And everything was good again.


Nineteen years later our favorite sheets are faded and threadbare.  As I was making the bed one morning, I realized they should have been replaced a while ago.  I thought about that innocent, idealistic couple purchasing these sheets.  How they had no idea the ride they were in for.  I thought about how life wears all bright shiny things down until they are broken or faded.   I thought about when I had the swine flu and when I got my wisdom teeth pulled, my miscarriage, months of unemployment, taking both boys to the hospital,  losing loved ones, changes and challenges and dark nights.  It all has taken it's toll and sometimes I feel a bit....well, threadbare.


But then I remembered that true love is stronger than cotton sheets.  


It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame. Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot sweep it away.  Song of Solomon 8:6,7


Nineteen valentines days and nights in those sheets.  Breakfasts in bed.  Mornings of sleeping in.  Cold mornings of prying ourselves out of their coziness.  Hot summer nights when all you need is a cool sheet to cover you.  Two brand new babies nestled between us.  Family wrestling matches.  The two of us curled up together night after night. All four of us snuggled in those sheets laughing and talking. 


They've been great sheets.  Best $29.99 I ever spent.  But I will buy new ones.  And what fun we will have wearing them out too.

distressing disguise

Well it isn't always lovely in the hospice world.


I visited a patient this week who has refused to wash her hair in the last 6 weeks.  Not a pretty site. I spent 40 minutes in a horder's living room, perched on the arm of the couch that I had located and then cleared off.  I hiked through a junk yard to get to a new patient's house.  I can diagnosis the rotting black teeth of a meth addict and the hoarse raspy voice of a heavy smoker.  Every month I call on a man who expresses his anger at his disease by urinating on the floor.  And I regularly meet with people who are clinging to their independence by feeding themselves despite their fading eyesight and shaking hands.  There is no shortage of snotty noses, phlegmy coughs, crusty skin and a bed sore or two. Oh dear.


Yesterday I met with a couple for the first time.  The patient was frail and slumped in her wheelchair.  When I greeted her, she babbled nonsensically, drool dripping down her chin and onto her blouse.  Her husband sat beside her and energetically shared their family history and details of her illness.  His hand never left her shoulder.  He repeatedly made eye contact with her as he shared her story.  "This is an amazing lady."  He told me.  "We have been married for 53 years and she is my best friend."  And he kissed her forehead.


I was reminded again that there are so many ways to see people.  I am so inspired as I watch our CNAs bath and comb and trim and love on the variety of patients we visit.  I admire the way our doctors restore dignity and our nurses give comfort in gentle, friendly doses.  I enjoy visiting alongside our social workers and listening to their interested questions.  I love that our job is to physically touch people.   To hug and pat, and hold hands and rub feet.  I want to be more generous and less wincing with my love and my vision.


Someone once asked Mother Teresa what she saw as she walked the streets of Calcutta where the poorest of the poor lived, what she saw when she looked at the orphans, the starving, the dying. This is what she said: "I see Jesus in a distressing disguise.


That disguise is all around us.  Jesus in gummy smiles and wizened hands.  Jesus in diapers and wheelchairs.  Jesus in poverty and pain.  Somehow Jesus shines through it all.  If I take the time to look.  To see the beauty of a person's soul, their courage, their story.


This quote reminds me of how worthwhile it is to see this way.


"The supreme religious challenge," says Rabbi Sacks, "is to see God's image in one who is not in our image, for only then can we see past our own reflections in the mirror to the God we did not make up."