“Doc, I’d rather be six feet apart than six feet under!” Arnold quips this as he navigates through the lobby. The chairs are spaced to avoid proximity during covid, but patients getting on with therapy are not convinced. What’s interesting about Arnold is that you would not expect this robust, funny smart-Alec statement from the ill, shrunken, hunched man in the wheelchair. We are attempting to help but the disease probably won months ago. Arnold’s mind is sharp and I am surprised when his thoughts and voice are strong. I stop his wife and pull her aside. She is tearful, scared, heartbroken and shocked. How did this happen in just a few months?
They were running by the ocean as recently as August. Her dismay is palpable and she needs her own self care, and cannot wait until the dust settles. This storm is like a ha- boob (great word). It will roll over both of them. While some of the discussion is a “put things in order”, another is pertinent to Arnold. “Doc, he was a smart businessman but when I look at him I am bewildered. Then when we talk I know he is still there inside”. I encourage her to continue to engage- its Arnold’s way of maintaining some control at this late stage. I ask what she will miss the most. “We used to read the Sunday paper together when we had breakfast, but he can’t eat anymore”. No, but she can still go through the paper with him. “He loves the beach but we don’t go now”. I encourage her to rent a large plastic wheelchair and take him there. “Our children want to know how much longer and when they should visit”. I say now is always the right time and will boost his immune system- don’t wait.
The dying part is a lot of work, especially with a chronic disease. It’s the partner making the last months, weeks, days the best they can be for both of them. Some give up and just watch the patient in a quiet reverie. While we treat Arnold my concern is how best to help his wife. What I recommend for all of us who will be in this role at some time is to engage as much as you can. Cuddle close, rub their feet, chatter about the news or friends, show pictures from their past. Fix their hair, feed them a spoonful of their favorite ice cream, arrange their chair so they can see nature (known to de-stress), play soothing music. These are the moments you will treasure and never regret.
When you take these steps to give loving care to someone, you are lifting yourself from the abyss, worry , dejection and soothing your own way. This is life before death. Remember when we cannot save a life, we can still save the life left. You are not alone.
I hope these words help. God bless you.