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I've never had a blog, only journals. Those are pretty serious records of my illness/meds/cycling, etc.

So this might be fun and different.
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Thoughts on Death

Posted 06-16-11 at 11:02 AM by EYEFORGOT
Tuesday morning one of my clients' husband passed away. I arrived at my client for this morning and he had to go to the hospital. I've been through death and sickness lots of times when working in a convalescent home, but it's been a while.

Some patients I found in their bed when I went to give them a morning bath. Others were screaming in the night for their doctor, the nurse could find nothing wrong, but they knew it was their time, and they passed soon after. Some days I would walk into work and a patient had passed and their bed already filled with someone else.

Each and every time I could find a thought to remember them by. One woman, Hannah ("banana"), I'll never forget, that she proposed to me in the middle of the night, without her teeth made it especially sweet: "Are you married?" I said "no, not yet". "Well you marry me and I'll love you forever."

Another woman, I can still see her face, was very confused in the late stages of Alzheimers, and she would rub the table all the time. Scrub and scrub and scrub, but there was a peace about her face.

Even some cranky, difficult patient; the thoughts of them, no matter how difficult, turned into a treasured memory. I remember they were difficult, but there's no malice, just a smile when I remember how challenging they were. That I had a chance to get to know them, for better or worse.

My client's husband was a busy man right up to the end, at 98 he was still trying to fix his snow blower this past winter and I remember the grease he tracked into the house and on the rug. I tried to help get it up, but it's one of the things I'll never forget about him. If there's tinkering to be done in heaven, he'll be there in his khaki pants and old shirt to help with it. He was always friendly when I came in, always a bright "Hello" and "How are you, young lady?" I'm going to miss cleaning up the crumbs and toothpicks from his spot in the den.

Let each death make us more kind. Whether the tragedy of their lives or the joy in knowing them. Let something, some thought, touch our heart.
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