11 days
My mom, Theresa, spent the last 11 days of her life before she passed away on October 15, 2010, at the Zen Hospice Project Guest House. She, a nonsmoker, had stage IV lung cancer and hydrocephalus, swelling of the brain and lasted a scant month after she was diagnosed. I went to her Physical Therapy appointment on September 30. I still remember her words that she wanted to be able to walk again and took a few steps with a walker. Instead, my mom was whisked to the Emergency Department after the physical therapist pieced together her rapid deterioration. It was there that I met with many providers including the consulting neurologist. I made her care decisions and held her hand during painful procedures. After his clinical assessment, I asked him how much time she had left, and he had tears in his eyes. A timeframe that had been hopeful months was suddenly weeks. The following day, the oncologist took her off medication and confirmed the neurologist’s assessment.
It was 5:30 on a Friday afternoon. I wanted to place my mom in hospice but I didn’t even know what it was or what to do. I contacted a colleague who was a social worker and she recommended Zen Hospice. I got in contact with the Guest House and toured the home over the weekend. It immediately felt right, given my mom’s pleasant, peaceful personality, and I felt no need to look further. I particularly loved the deck in the back, and I was desperate to remove my mom from her dreary hospital bed to a beautiful place where she could sit in the sun, enjoy the flowers and be at peace for as long as we could have her with us.
Later, I would learn how lucky we were not only to have wonderful people guide us in the right direction but that the hospice was newly re-opened. Those 11 days in the hospice were a blur of images given the drama within our family. It was a relief that while reality had to be addressed, I did not have to worry about my mom. We sat outside on the deck at every opportunity – too few – that we had, and the sun made cooperative appearances. The happiness of my day was measured by what little – and it would take an hour or more - we could coax my mom to eat and it was literally teaspoonfuls on a good day. We quickly got to know her caregivers who provided detailed accounts of parts of her day when I could not be with her. We shared stories with the volunteers who were such great listeners. The Guest House was a haven, an unreal world that I had never before encountered. Truly, it was like I landed on a different planet. Everyone spoke in a peaceful measured way and was full of compassion.
I am grateful to Zen Hospice Project for many things. I am grateful that they helped make my mom’s final days the best they could be because who wouldn’t do everything they could to make their mom happy? At the hospital, I could not stop crying. At the hospice, I did not cry, and I associate my mom’s passing as a peaceful, gradual affair with the least amount of suffering we could manage. The period on the experience was the beautiful cleansing ceremony that was performed before her body was taken away. I appreciate how lucky I am to have no regrets plaguing me after my mom passed away. You cannot place a value on preserving someone’s dignity at a time that could be filled with pain, anguish and second-guessing. Zen Hospice provided this final dignity.