Hard Times at Hospice

I've been having a challenge at hospice this week.  But I can't tell you the most details because of healthcare privacy.

There is a person I'm visiting who is near the end of life.  I'm composed in her and her loved ones' presence, but when I leave the room, I get all teary and upset.  And when I've talked to our hospice priest and volunteer director about it, I get equally choked up.  I've always said, when people who've had loved ones in hospice admire my work in hospice, that it isn't the same as losing someone I know.  And that's true.  A couple of years ago, when I had the same patient for 18 months, I got teary in the same way the last few times near the end when I would leave, knowing it was very close to her end.  This hasn't even been like that.  And I'm somewhat surprised.  But our dear hospice priest, my buddy, teases me that I'm human. 

It doesn't help that many of my recent trips to hospice have been consumed with paperwork.  There seem to be fewer volunteers doing the data entry and filing, and I get stuck doing a lot of it, which means spending less time with patients.  I'm almost out of practice!  And then I'm reluctant to head to hospice because I dread the paperwork. 

So yesterday, in my sad state about my current patient, I just abandoned the paperwork, leaving it to someone else.  I sat with her, made her a card for her nightstand, spoke with her loved ones, meditated, and then had a jolly lunch with the priest instead.  I did the good work of chaplaincy and self care, not the bureaucratic stuff.

May she be free from disease, pain, and suffering and the causes of disease, pain, and suffering.
May she be at peace.