I have brushed off the crumbs of the chocolate croissant I got from the Russian bakery off the front of my purple hospice shirt. I look down and all of the crumbs are on my Levi's and the Jeep seat. I take a look in the rearview mirror and wipe what looks like half of a chocolate croissant out of my long handlebar mustache.
At first glance I don't I think I am what you would expect a hospice volunteer to look like. I am 5'6", stocky, with a short hair and a long handlebar mustache that is grey at the tips. It is a lot easier to convey confidence, when you are dressed in a blue uniform and getting off a big red fire engine. I stop in front of the address and shake the rest of the croissant off of my Levi's and take one last look in the driver's side Jeep window.
I am meeting John and his wife for the first time today. John's wife has asked for a respite volunteer to sit with her husband, while she goes to the local rec center to swim and workout.
The people that provide care for people in hospice are amazing people. It is the hard work of providing care to people who cannot perform the most basic functions on their own. They provide loving care for the entire day, and it is for the most part not recognized by friends and family who visit. The hospice patients receiving this care seem to have a deep appreciation for the patience and love they are given on a daily basis. The care that I provided to my family and friends, that I was so fiercely proud of pales in comparison to what hospice care providers do on a daily basis.
As a hospice volunteer, I hear people say wonderful things about my volunteering, but the truth is that by the time I walk through the door all of the hard, demanding work has already been done. I will sit with a person, have a great cup of coffee usually and learn something new about the life I am attempting to live.
I think you would be really happy to see me get out of the Jeep if you had a flat tire and needed help to change the tire. I do not think at first glance that I would exude compassion or patience to anyone. The only bright purple shirt I own, is the one that I am wearing with the Hospice logo. The bright purple shirt and my scowling employee badge does not do much to soften my appearance.
I genuinely enjoy meeting new people. Most of the new people that I meet are the in the work and social circles that I am already comfortable with. If I opened the door of Engine 3 and had on my blue uniform and walked over to you, you would be immediately comfortable with me. With the bright red and black fire truck as a backdrop, I would be easy to like. Stocky, short hair, and a handlebar mustache would look right to almost everyone.
It is going to take some time for me to get used to my new uniform (purple shirt and Levi's). I love my Jeep but still miss Engine 3. I have to learn that I no longer have the safety of my blue uniform and badge. The purple shift I am wearing with the hospice logo offers none of the safety of the blue uniform. I always take a deep breath and remind myself I will meet someone who will change my view of life and living in ways I cannot anticipate. John will teach me something new about life, if I can reach across the gap and touch him. I also know that every time a hospice patient allows me to cross this threshold into their lives, I will get more than I will ever be able to give.
I knock on the door and John's wife answers. She looks relieved to see me and sounds grateful that I have agreed to come over to see if John and I are a comfortable with each other.
The smell of fresh coffee fills the room. "Let me introduce you to John" she says.
John is sitting in a chair in the living room and is easily over 6' 4". "Hey John" I say and extend my hand. John looks up and smiles. He tells me he is blind in his left eye and asks that I sit in the chair to his immediate right. John starts to ask me questions about who I am and why I am a hospice volunteer.
Hospice patients have amazing bullshit detectors. I answer all of his questions directly and honestly. He asks his wife to pour us both coffee and bring over the plate of cookies she has made. This is the signal that John is comfortable with me and from where I am sitting, I can see the smile on her face.
After bringing the coffee goes into the other room to grab her swim bag. With her bag over her shoulder, she walks over to John and kisses the top of his head. He grins and looks up at her and tells her that he is not planning to go out while she is gone, and they both laugh.
She stands in the doorway to the garage and smiles at me. When the garage door opens, John listens for garage door to close and when she drives away, he starts to talk about her.
"I saw her in high school, and she was the most beautiful girl I ever saw" John said.
"She had a boyfriend at the time, and I told her she was beautiful and that if she ever dumped him that she should go out with me."
John told me they both had classes together and that he took every single opportunity to talk to her. He has a booming laugh and said she was completely unimpressed with him for a long period of time.
"I was driving home from the movies on Friday, and I pulled into a dead-end alley" John said smiling.
"A car pulled in right behind me and put headlamps on high. I honked and yelled but the damn fool would not back up and kept flashing the bright lights."
"I was cussing and mad as hell when I got out of my car, and I stormed back to the other car and there she was laughing her head off" he smiles even broader now.
"We have been together since then."
John pauses for a long minute. His broad smile is gone for a moment, and he appears lost in thought. I have learned in hospice to appreciate those moments of silence and not interrupt them.
Silence lets a person give a memory the shape and depth it deserves.
John is engaging to talk to and we are watching a Colorado Rockies baseball game on TV and evaluating what is wrong with the pitching staff. The game is only in the 2nd inning and shortly after I pour a second cup of coffee and reach for another cookie, he stands up and looks over at the living room couch.
He clears his voice and in that strong booming voice says, "Thank you all for coming over today." John is facing the couch over by the picture window.
I am sitting with him, and I look over at the empty couch wondering what it is that he is seeing. I turn my chair to face the empty couch. John announces to the couch that he is glad that everyone came over to the prayer meeting today.
Fuck
I am a practicing Catholic, and I cannot recall ever going to or participating in a prayer meeting in a private home. Here I have to say although my hospice training focused on me being "in the moment" with assigned patients, this is a situation that my Fire Service training has prepared me for.
The ability to adjust to a situation that is unfolding in a way you did not anticipate is a practiced skill that all command officers learn. Humbly, this is a skill that in my fire service career, I was adept at. The call today (respite visit) that I was dispatched to, is turning into an event that I did not anticipate and I need to adapt so I can manage the new and changing situation.
He goes on to say that he wants to be first to speak, to witness.
"Yes, thanks please start John" I say.
I am watching John intently as he begins to speak. John says he needs to ask God for forgiveness for the anger he had when he realized that he was going to die and leave this life. He has a pained expression on his face.
I take a deep breath; I am going to witness a deeply personal account of a man's life who is dying. For a brief minute I think I should not be the one hearing about how a man accounts for his actions before God. I wish his wife was at this prayer meeting today instead of me.
Hospice has softened me in ways I did not anticipate. I am not the guy who would offer to pray with you in a time a great adversity for you. For me, expressions of faith like this, those heart-to-heart discussion with God are deeply personal and solo pursuits. If you thought I was troubled and put your hand on my shoulder and asked to pray with me, I would give you a sideways look and politely decline. I don't believe that God gives you style points for where or how you pray. No extra points are given for standing, kneeling, facing in any direction. or what you wear on your neck, head or body. God listens to you intently, no matter where and who you are. While I wish there were more people here, understanding God will hear John today is more of an audience than is needed.
John begins talking about the things he will miss he will miss when he dies. They are simple, beautiful everyday things. Seeing his wife's face in the morning, sitting on the couch and watching the sun rise and set, and listening to his son and daughter tell them about everything that is going on in their lives. Grandchildren stories he says are the very best.
I watched the sunrise when I was walking my own dog this morning and it was beautiful. John and I must have been looking at the same sunrise this morning. This is one of the gifts John will give me today, reminding me how the everyday beauty in a day is so remarkable. I wonder how many days I let go by and stopped recognizing all the amazing things in my life.
My mind drifts to the simple things I love in this life.
When he begins talking about his two children, my eyes tear up. I do not think I have heard another father express his pure joy in his children with such clarity. I want to work harder to let Megan and Jake understand the pure joy they have brought into my own life. That is a gift every father wants to give his own children and we let everyday life get in the way of that. I want my own kids to hear this from me before I am rounding the last corner in my life.
I wish with everything I have today that John's kids could hear their dad say this today. As I write this, it occurs to me that they have probably heard this from him a lot.
When John starts talking about his wife, I can't stop tears from rolling down my cheeks. Words here cannot adequately convey what he said about his wife. He closes his eyes and says he had deep regret about not saying how much he loved her in the best and the shittiest of times. John, expresses deep heartfelt thanks that he has had a lifetime of love with her. He looks up, eyes red rimmed and said he is proof that love does indeed last a lifetime and he looks forward to seeing her again in the next life.
The most powerful thing John says is that he has asked for God's forgiveness for how he handled getting the news that his life was going to end. John says that he felt alone and abandoned by God. He was angry about the life events he would not see and mad that his body was degrading faster than he anticipated.
John said, that shortly after his diagnosis he woke up and looked at the face of his wife and realized that God was beside him every step of his life. He said that he wakes up every day and asks for forgiveness for taking so long to understand this.
Margaret Fishback Powers (author of Footprints in the Sand prayer), this 6' 4" this hospice patient with one bad eye has outdone your epic prayer by a mile. The empty couch and I are the only witnesses to the most compelling statement of faith I have ever heard in my life.
John finishes and sits down and after a quiet minute says, "Who wants to go next?"
I am completely floored, all of the things that have been problems for me this week have evaporated. I think of all of the gifts I have been given just today and how I have not thanked a person (let alone God) for all of the beautiful things in my life today. On my walk with the dog this morning, I stepped in dog poop. I stopped looking at the beautiful sunrise and spent time trying to clean my shoe and cussing out the person that did not pick up their dog's poop. I am healthy, live an amazing life and have all of my amazing family and friends around me. I gave that zero amount of time and dog poop over an hour of my time.
Fuck
"I will" I say and stand up and the empty couch and stumble through 10 minutes to thank God for all of the gifts I have been given in this life. I make a promise to celebrate all these gifts each and every day.
John is watching me talk and nodding his head in approval. I finish and I turn to John to try thanking him for the amazing gift he has given me today. I sit back down in the chair next to John and he is staring intently at the couch and has a confused look on his face. I wait for him to come back, and I am just about ready to talk to him again when he looked at me with his good eye and said, "Where did everybody go?"
"Most of them left after you finished talking John, they were very moved" I said, and John smiled.
"You were good too" John said and patted my arm. I said thanks and we sat in a quiet comfortable silence for 5 more minutes looking out the picture window at the beautiful spring day.
John looked over at me and said, "You follow the Rockies?" I said I do and for the next 20 minutes we talked about the lack of depth in the Rockies bull pen for pitchers and finished the last of the coffee.
EPILOG
John's prayer meeting was the only formal prayer meeting that I ever attended. I hope if you find yourself looking out a beautiful start or end to a day that you hear John and realize that you may be the next speaker.
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