A Daily Dose in Palliative Care

Written by Michelle M. Rodriguez

It’s a daily occurrence in my work as a Complementary Therapy Team Leader, to treat patients from various areas. Patients come in for their Outpatients appointments (people who visit for ongoing emotional, psychological support or treatment, but do not require to be admitted for overnight care), weekly visits from the Day Therapy patients; who attend to get some association and hang out with their friends who also come in weekly. Then there’s those that I visit within the community who are unable to move very far or maybe not even get out of bed.

Sincerity and Separation

With the isolation period and lock downs, these avenues have been closed off and now unable to see the vast amount of patients my role was just for those on the wards. I began spending all my time taking care of those in what is known as the In Patient Unit (IPU). This time gave me more contact with our patients and so I was able to build more meaningful relationships, which brought a greater attachment and therefore a greater pain in the evitable separations. This point I recognised today as I returned from my weekend off, to a hospice that had seen a few deaths since Friday.

Many of these patients were within my cache and it set me on a reflective path this morning as I clicked my way through my digital diary, electronically discharging the names of patients I had been speaking to on Friday.

Where were they now?

What amount of grieving was happening over this weekend?

Was emotional pain rampant throughout the quiet rooms of the hospice?

Familiarity, Death and Acceptance

I had faced death many times in my various fields of health care; as a nurse during my teens, as a volunteer at Bart’s Hospital and here at Thames Hospice during my case loads of patients. So what was different now? The daily connection with the IPU patients, that was different. Glimpses into their worlds outside of the hospice, before the world of Cancer became their norm. This connection brought a closeness that despite all the training of self-protection and detachment, despite my knowledge of spirituality and my strong knowing that there is a beautiful place that awaits us when we depart, I still felt the moments of vacancy and emotional disruption. Knowing that when I go onto the wards that Mr X or Ms X may no longer be there. Witnessing life and its existence in terms of hours instead of months or years brings a different appreciation. One I hope never leaves me.

Ultimately, I think it’s good. There is pause for those departed souls. I am after all, in a human body with the décor of emotions and thoughts. At the very least, death and all its power, gives me a great leap of gratitude for this life, this moment.