Storm Breaks

Her energy is waning, she's becoming more and more confused. She asks what we're all waiting for and we tell her she's being moved to a quieter floor. No alarms, no monitors, she doesn't need them any more. A young man arrives from transport, an angel, as he disconnects and maneuvers her bed toward the door, he paints a picture of paradise on the 7th floor.  "There is music and candles and it always smells like cookies up there. It's my favorite place to go in the hospital. You can have anything you want to eat, you can read books, or tell stories..."

"She loves to tell stories," I tell him.

He smiles, "I love stories!" 

Faintly, from the bed, "Even dirty ones?"  We all laugh.  She's still there.

Her transfer from IMCU to Palliative Care is a procession. Her family, her entourage, accompany her and her angel from Transport and we get her settled in. She's used all her energy by now, and she's barely awake.  We all sit quietly with her for a time, and like a collective breath, we know it's time to leave her be.  One by one, we kiss her, say goodnight, tell her we'll be back tomorrow.  She nods, sleepy, eyes closed, and we leave.

Friday morning, the first phone call at about 8am tells me that her respiration rate was elevated and she was given medication to help.  I tell them I'll head in soon, and I start getting ready...shower, dress, coffee...and before I can get in the car, a second phone call.  I know before I pick it up what this is about but I can't not answer.  In that space between, she passed...and we weren't there.

In the days since, I've come to the conclusion that she probably wouldn't have let go had any of us been there.  I look back at her advance planning workbook and one word comes forward, repeatedly..."family".  

"What do you fear leaving behind when you die?" asks the workbook.  "Family," she answered.

"What makes your life worth living?" asks the workbook.  "Family," she answered.

"If you could plan your last day or hours, who would be present?" asks the workbook.

"Family."  

She got the last day she wanted.