Is it really that bad?

Earlier today, I had a great conversation with my sister-in-law Mindy, who is a nurse in a facility very similar to the facility I work in. We were talking about the way in which we take care of our patients, and she asked me," Do you think you're more protective because of your mom?"

"Yes, definitely," I said. I know she is too, because my mom was important to her too, and I'm sure that the whole ordeal we went through has made us better care-takers.

Just now I was thinking about this conversation in my head and I thought, "Is it really that bad?" Her death was painful and one of the most difficult things I'll probably go through in my entire life, but I truly believe that knowing she made me a better person and a more sensitive and thoughtful caregiver would make her very proud. She would be very proud of Mindy too. We are better because of my mom, and I'm very thankful for that.

I work in what most would call a "nursing home" but really is so much more when you examine the type of patients we care for. Your standard "nursing home" patient rarely exists there, and rather, we cater to the just-off-the-vent, shot-in-the-head, massive-stroke-when-you're-fifty kind of crowd. Sometimes, it is very sad. Sometimes, I wish they were not suffering anymore. I used to feel bad about wanting them to go to Heaven, but now, looking back at the lessons my mom has taught me, and to understand that there is a great love that comes with releasing someone from their suffering, I don't feel bad anymore for hoping they are freed. I have patients that are in their forties and fifties that are living after a massive brain hemorrhage, and "living" really isn't an appropriate term to call what they're doing. More like "just existing." I don't think that's a life for anyone, not even for horrible people who deserve to suffer because they murder or rape or steal. I worry about my patients sometimes because they can't always stick up for themselves, and although you hate to admit it, you can occasionally see when someone is tired or having a bad day and they may slack on the care that needs provided. I hate that I see that sometimes, and I hate to admit it now. But it's true.

I am very proud to say that I do not let myself have days like this, and I know that I have my mom to thank for that. Whenever I'm having a bad day or a challenging time at work, I ask myself, "What if that was my mom laying there?" and I have no problem gently reminding anyone else either!

What's very scary to me is to think that my mom could have ended up like one of my patients, practically brain-dead and laying there in bed, drooling on herself without being able to eat, to speak, to cry out for help, and it makes me sick. Losing my mom was beyond heartbreaking, but when looking back on what could have happened to her and in what state she could have been left in, I can't help but think, "Is it really that bad?"

Yes, and no. She's gone, and for whatever reason, it had to happen that way. But....she left many things behind and even to this day, a year and three months later, I am still finding things from her and lessons that need to be learned. Even in her death she continues to teach me and nurture me and her job is never done, and I love how she reaches out to me so that I can reach out to someone else during my day. I hope she is proud of me, and I'm happy to still have her in my life whether I can see her or not. Today especially, I feel there is no greater gift than the gift of compassion, no matter how it finds its way to you.