Hospice

“Let us touch the dying, the poor, the lonely and the unwanted according to the graces we have received and let us not be ashamed or slow to do the humble work.” – Mother Teresa

Hospice in Chimbote has two venues, in the community with home visits and an in-patient facility that resembles that of a nursing home for those that require continuous nursing care beyond what their families can provide. November marked my return to Hospice. The Madeline home health program had a grand total of four patients so it made financial sense to consolidate volunteers and revenue between Hospice and Madeline for the time being and perhaps make a reprisal for the home health program at a later date with the help of grants.

I have to admit, a silent scream had erupted inside of me when I found out I was returning to work with hospice. The previous year had been enough for me. The hours are long, the work is tedious and frustrating because of the lack of resources. It hardly seems like one is changing the world just being an extra pair of hands and apart from medications and wound care, the work is the equivalent of a nurses aid. I prayed for strength to endure once again. I am not a morning person and I would need every bit of it to be reporting at 6 A.M.

My third day into working inside the hospice facility, I was asked to bathe a patient who had died that morning. He had only been admitted the day before. When I first met him, I thought he resembled a zombie. He was barely cognizant with a gaping mouth and a gaze that was fixed on the ceiling. Death came as a blessing that day but his family was there struggling to cope. It is custom in Peru for a family to take the responsibility to provide all supplies and prepare the body for burial but they were understandably asking for help. I was directed by the staff to go in and assist with the bath. When I asked for their towel the family fished around the patients belongings and presented me with a pair of his underwear, no wash cloth. It is forever humbling to see people work with what they have. So with my gloved hands as a wash cloth and a pair of underwear as a towel, I set off to bathe the patient.

One of the family members stood over me anxious to see everything was done right. I did not find her demanding. She was the strong one, keeping it together for everyone else. The other family members were in and out of the room. The women were crying and men had blank expressions looking out in the distance. She helped me dress him. Body fluids tend to ooze out after death. I ended up having to strip the bed of the sheets and change the cotton stuffed in the nose and mouth after it became soaked in blood. I found the work to be very peaceful. There was no rush. God gives us the grace to persevere and find strength sufficient for the day.