Guest post by Barbara Ragsdale
Night didn’t settle softly that late January evening. It banged and clattered in a chaotic frenzy. It shuttered and shivered from the cold. It breathed exhaustive sighs from the hours it took to be discharged from the hospital. Hospice moved into our home. The journey lasted sixteen months.
I stared in horror at the transformation of the master bedroom. Out was the four-poster bed, and in came the hospital bed with trapeze attachment looming in a great arc toward the ceiling. I hated all of it.
The oxygenator was ugly, loud, and produced heat. The walker and wheelchair, shoved against one wall, were like soldiers waiting to be called into service. I hid the potty chair.
“We need places for the meds and creams and bandages,” the nurse told me. I cleared drawers and shifted linens so the aide who would bathe him could find them quickly.
The hospice nurse told me the medicine protocol. “He needs breathing treatments four times a day and the special medicine for C-diff has to be picked up at the central pharmacy.” The rest of the instructions got lost in my mind, unable to process any more words.
I didn’t read all the discharge notes until later. Doctor said, “Two weeks to live.” He passed that and with therapy, got stronger. When the sun began to shine through the trees, I knew he would want to be outside. I took an aerobic step and slid it between the walker. “If you want to go outside, it’s up, up, down, down.”
I soon realized the despised tools were only equipment. They would allow him to leave the bed, the room, and eventually the home. He did. Dinner out was a treat even with the oxygen tank dragging along behind.
Hospice care is compassionate. It is relief from the stress of doctor appointments. In the midst of turmoil, it is the understanding support for the caregiver who may have exhausted all available energy in a collapse of tears. I often prayed, “Breathe on him breath of God, fill him with life anew, and give him peace.” At the end, there is peace like a warm river that comforts the soul.
Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you.
Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.
John 14:27 NKJV
Barbara Ragsdale is published in the Chicken Soup anthologies and short-story collections published by Collierville Christian Writers. “A Walking Miracle” in Guideposts, poem in Can, Sir, and a WWII veteran interview in Forever Young. She was a staff writer of author interviews for Southern Writers Magazine. When not writing, she is an exercise instructor with the Silver Sneakers program.
Tracy Crump dispenses hope in her award-winning book, Health, Healing, and Wholeness: Devotions of Hope in the Midst of Illness (CrossLink Publishing: 2021). A former intensive care nurse, she cared for her parents and her mother-in-law and understands both the burdens and joys of caregiving. Her devotions have been featured in Guideposts books, The Upper Room, and many other publications, and she has contributed 25 stories to Chicken Soup for the Soul® books. She also conducts writing workshops, produces a newsletter for writers, and does freelance editing. But her most important job is Grandma to five completely unspoiled grandchildren.
Thank you, Barbara, for such a powerful, well-written, and heartfelt post! You beautifully portray your honesty and emotions, and they resonate with my caregiving experience. Yes, hospice is a blessing. I felt absolutely awful when I had to make the call for my dear mother. It felt like defeat. Yet here in Kentucky, they have been attentive, compassionate, and available whenever I have concerns about my mom. Many thanks again for this fantastic and encouraging post!
Thank you for your comment, Kathryn. It’s such a hard decision. I’ve had to do it 3 times. Continuing to pray for you!
Barbara’s vivid writing brings both the horror and the sweetness of her story to us. What a comfort peace is in times like these. Thank you for the reminder of God’s goodness.
I love the verse in Philippians about the peace that passes all understanding. Only God can give that.
There many responses to trying situations. Finding peace in an uncertain future is worth the struggle and the quiet moment of silent prayer.
God bless you.
And you, Toni!
Barbara, thank you for directing our attention to the positives in one of the most difficult situations. Blessings.
She found the flowers among the weeds.
A stirring account from your guest blogger. I’m glad this dear lady was able to minister to her beloved through the time in Hospice care. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you for reading, Sarah. Barbara has definitely been through the fire.
Thank you. There were funny times, sad and lonely times, but he was at home where he wanted to be.
So true, Barbara. It’s not a cliche to say “There’s no place like home.”