Knitting. Yarn. Fiber artistry. More knitting. Nursing school. Hospice work. Death and the dying process. Phoenix Raven's. Knitting. Yarn. Oh, and Life As An Air Force Wife.
Published on May 21, 2006 By dharmagrl In Misc

Recently, something has changed in me. 

I used to be able to sit and watch the TV news and take the deaths of soldiers, marines and airmen in my stride.  I used to hear about young people being killed in car accidents or shootings and stabbings and not bat an eyelid.

Lately, though...I can't do it.  It HURTS.  There's this weight in my chest - I think that I now know what poets meant when they claimed that their hearts were heavy, because that's how I feel.  My heart IS heavy.  It's heavy with sorrow.  Sorrow that so many young lives have been lost to the cause of freedom for a people that may or may not want it.  I think that in 10 years time, we will be looking back at this war and we will be saying things about it that our parents said about Vietnam....in fact, some of us are already saying it.  We're wondering how many more lives will be lost, how much further into human debt we're going to go before our leaders say 'enough' and America steps out of the equation. 

I think that it's working at the hospice that had brought about this change.  I see the cyclical nature of life, I see people who have lived some life leaving and new little people coming and there's a rationality to it.  This, though....well, I cannot make any kind of rationality out of it.  They haven't had any time to do anything with their lives.  They haven't had time to LIVE, yet they're sacrificing themselves for someone elses freedom, or someone else's honor...or even someone else's drugs or money, and sometimes they're even doing it so that someone else can live.

My heart is heavy, and I'm having to turn off the TV and the news.  I can't watch it and not cry.

 


Comments
on May 21, 2006
You have met Sir Death face to face. Don't feel bad because you couldn't do it without being affected. I, for one, am glad you could not. With all professions and other work that involves emotional issues, there are certain walls that everyone has to face. Being with someone, knowing they won't be there tomorrow, or even 5 minutes from now is one of those walls. These walls are what seperate those who will be able to continue and those who won't.

Too many people think that if they hurt while facing these walls, then they don't have what it takes to do the job. My experience shows just the opposite is true. Those who don't feel the emotion of the moments don't grow from them... don't learn from them. All to often all they do is bury the emotion too deep to be felt. Which isn't actually facing the wall... just kind of running around it.

As for those who die in Iraq... I think how you have always felt is just joining in with what you are feeling now. It's not like they aren't related. Whether it appears to be an empty death, a heroic death, or just the end of a well lived life, death comes to us all in the way it will. For the person dying, well, the transformation is happening and all that is left for them is to go with it and see what happens. For the rest of us there is only dealing with their death in whatever way we are prepared to do it.

Karen, you have joined in a relatively small band of people. Those of us who have lived to tell about the last breaths of other people. You have seen that there is no fanfare, no finale, no climax... only... a few physical changes... maybe a rattle in the breathing... sometimes tears, sometimes "final words"... but usually nothing that dramatic... and then they are gone. The mortal part of their existance passes, their spirit moves on... but those of us who were there to witness it are left wondering...

It is no small thing to face our own beliefs and convictions in such a real way. Never be afraid to feel, and never feel like you are alone in all this.
on May 22, 2006

You do something that most cannot do.  I dont kid myself by saying "Yea, not a problem".  It is bound to have an effect on you for the very reason of who you are.

There are other venues of news.  Avail yourself of those to keep up to date.  Those are more easily filtered.

on May 22, 2006

Ted:  You get it.  You understand how, when I leave a vigilance session after my patient has died, I need to cry.  I need to cry, and I need to tell someone how it was.  Once I've done that, I'm.....I'm.....not better, but somehow able to move on. I think that you'll understand what I'm trying to say.  I wish Dave was.  The first time I came home crying, he got upset and said that if this is how I was going to react then perhaps I shouldn't do it again - bless his little heart, he thought that I couldn't handle it.

He was wrong. I can handle it. And because I can handle it, I feel like I have an obligation to do what I do.  I mean, what kind of a person would I be if I saw a need, knew that I had the ability to fill that need, but sat on my arse and didn't do it?  I wouldn't be me if I did that.  And when I say obligation I don't mean it in a burdensome kind of way, I mean it in the same way Christ did when he said 'come to me, you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.'  I'm not saying that I'm Christlike, I'm just saying that my obligation is a welcome one.

And yes, the hospice expereince has changed the way I look at a lot of things, but it's changed the way I look at death, particularly needless and pointless death.  That's why I can't watch the news about the war without wanting to cry over the waste of precious human life.

DG:  You're right, there aren't many people that can do what I do.  That's why I do it.  Because I can.

on May 22, 2006
I want to say something profound in response to this, but don't have any words. I've never gone through stuff like that and I can't imagine how hard, but I'm ... that's not the right word. Humbled and impressed by what you do. Really, it's a kind of magic...
on May 22, 2006

I want to say something profound in response to this, but don't have any words. I've never gone through stuff like that and I can't imagine how hard, but I'm ... that's not the right word. Humbled and impressed by what you do. Really, it's a kind of magic...

  It's ok.  I know what you want to say, and thank you for trying to say it.  A lot of people have the same reaction as you, and I am the one who is humbled by the responses I get once they know what I do.

While I disagree with the entire notion of 'needless' or 'pointless' death, this is not the time nor place to debate it, so I will just say I am sorry you are hurting, and if there's anything I can do to ease your mind, you know how to reach me

I'm ok, Sabrina.  Really.  I just can't watch the news without a heavy heart.  I understand that any life lived and lost isn't a needless or a pointless one; I should have chosen my words better.  I guess what bothers me most is the pain that that person's family will feel when they learn that the one they loved won't be coming home again.  I see that pain a lot, even when the death is an expected and sometimes a long time coming, and I know how deeply grief pierces a person's soul. 

Anyway.  I'm ok, I'll just have to stay away from the news for a while.  I got assigned 2 more patients today, so I'm going to be busy for a while.

on May 22, 2006
Ted: You get it. You understand how, when I leave a vigilance session after my patient has died, I need to cry. I need to cry, and I need to tell someone how it was.


Yes, I do get it, I've been over that wall, and yes, I do understand your need to cry and to talk about it...

Call me anytime you need a dry shoulder and semi clean ear. ;~D If you don't have my number anymore, IM or Email me... but yes, you can call me 24/7.