My heart sank as I saw her monitor alarm yet again.
“I just turned up her blood pressure medication. Why is her blood pressure
going lower?” I wondered in frustration and alarm. Entering the room to
increase her intravenous drip to raise her blood pressure once again, I caught
her peacefully resting. “This is not looking good. I wonder if she understands
how this is likely to turn out. I should give her some gentle clues…” I thought
soberly. Her eyes opened to the sound of the buttons as I increased the drip
rate on her IV pump. She gazed up at me and smiled sweetly. My heart started to
break. “Hi Betty, sorry to wake you up. I’m just turning up your blood pressure
medication again. Your stubborn blood pressure refuses to behave! I’m starting
to run out of options. I’m going to be calling the doctor and letting him know
I can’t get your blood pressure up. This is not quite how I wanted this night
to go for you…” I said as honestly but sweetly as possible. She gave me an
unexpected smile and nodded her head in agreement. “… Does she understand? I
don’t want to scare her… but she deserves to know what is going on and to be
able to prepare for what is likely to follow…” I said quietly to myself.
My anxiety increased with the oxygen
as I turned her new oxygen mask up to it’s maximum 100%. “Where is the doctor
and her family? I called them 20 minutes ago… they need to hurry!!” I thought
in my inner panic. Her condition was changing and deteriorating rapidly. She
had already declared that she did not want to CPR or a breathing tube, but we
were reaching the limits of being able to sustain her life without such
measures. Decisions needed to be made. As her vital signs decreased, the peace
in the room mysteriously increased. I kept Betty updated on her status and how
poorly she was doing. Instead of the fearful and anxious response I braced
myself for, she was eager and excited. Her nature and reaction was so unique
and indescribable that it left me dumbfounded.
“She
wants you. We kept trying to say goodbye and she kept asking, ‘What are we
waiting for? Where is the nurse? Let’s do this!’” her family told me in
astonishment between sniffles and tears. “We can’t watch her go. We can’t be
there. She just wants you.” Without knowing what else could be said, I hugged
them, and assured them I would not let her go alone.
“Betty?
Are you ready?” was the first and only think I could think to say. What do you
say to someone before you stop keeping them alive? How do you approach the topic
of their impending death the very moment in which they are facing the veil?
Betty not merely smiled, but she beamed. “Yes!!” She exclaimed. This again
shocked me and caused me to pause while absorbing the glory of this sweet,
wrinkled, and radiant 86-year-old beauty. “Ok, well… it has been a pleasure
being your nurse. I will see you on the other side” I said as peace rushed into
my being as waves crashing on shore. I knew in that moment that though what I
had said to her was beyond my comprehension, it was eternally true. “Ok!”
She responded as she closed her eyes and continued to grin as if relishing a
cool mist on an insufferably hot summers day.
Time seemed to
pause for a moment. As I stood over this woman who was a few clicks of a button
away from death, I took mental pictures and memos of what true peace and joy
looks like. She seemed to carry the secret to happiness that the entire world
is searching for. “How can she be not just calm, but excited? She knows she is
going to die and she knows exactly what is going on. “ I thought to myself.
“That’s it… that’s what it is.
…She knows what is going on.”
With that
revelation, the same penetrating peace filled me again like warm tea hitting
cold veins on a frozen winter night. “She must know what life is about, and
therefore, she knows what death is about.
She is excited for the
next phase.” With that realization, I was reminded that she was waiting for me
to finish my musings and to let her go.
Feeling the weight
of my actions and yet a sense of her excitement, I turned off the IV machines
and removed her oxygen. I gave her some Morphine and Ativan through her IV, and
then sat on the bed beside her. I took her hand and instinctively found myself
singing hymns to her. Time again seemed to slow and then pause.
There are no words
to describe the tender and sacred presence and feelings I experienced in those
last 20 minutes with Betty. She never stopped beaming. I wondered if she was as
happy on her wedding day as she seemed to be in that moment. That distinct
peace never left, but seemed to intensify as tangibly as watching the sunrise.
Many may claim me
as delusional, but I cannot deny the sense of the presence of other persons
when all I could see was she and I. I felt a wave of warmth and love of family
and old friends catching up at a party as if feeling a warm summer breeze. Yet..... it was just her and I.
Wasn’t it?
Watching Betty
provoked somber and joyous introspection. “How will I die?” I wondered. I
didn’t care what was going to cause my death, but rather, “how will I approach
death?” What did Betty do to prepare for death? Her condition was acute with a
rapid onset. She didn’t seem to have much warning prior to her death and yet, she was ready. She was prepared to not
just face the veil, but run to it. I
determined that night to spend my life in a way that will earn me a joyous
death. I want to be ready at any moment to respond “YES!” when asked,
“Kali? Are you
ready?”
