Running to the Veil

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?”