Separate But Together

When you get a new patient on hospice there is that first initial meeting.. that initial meet and greet that initial family, spouse, children chat. 

Well with the Morgan's it was just Melba and Scott... 

Scott was terminally ill and Melba was distort. Married for 80 years the Morgan's never had children, they lived, traveled and took care of each other in a tender way through many adventures. And now they saw them coming to an end. 

When you meet people towards the end of their life you hear stories of who they were and you learn they haven't changed much, that people do not really change as they age. I'll never forget one of the first things sweet Melba quietly leaned over and told me was "Ms. Michelle, Scott is kind of a flirt, if he says anything inappropriate I am sorry. He's always been that way but he's gotten worse with age." 

With a smile and reassuring touch to her hand I let her know I understood, trust me, of course those are stories for another day. 

Melba was hard of hearing and everything had to be said at a level the neighbors could hear and of course Scott would tell us to not talk so loud. 

It was like a comedy hour during every visit, they were like Lucy and Desi the banter back and forth that was developed over years was so fluid and bounced back and forth like a tennis match. You could feel the love with each well crafted spicy word, some times sharp and even barbed but always ended with an I love you and I am sorry Love. 

Hospice care can and does carry on for a year or two and in this case it did for Scott. I was thankful. I got to know this pair well, I got to spend time in their love, time in their birthdays, anniversaries and share many meals with this loving pair. 

Scott would flirt, he would hold my hand, he would comment on my legs and Melba would sit quietly and shake her head. Melba loved Scott for his imperfections, for his love of her, for his love of me and life. For Scott just loved Women... and that never changed even in an assisted living. 

Over time Scott started to decline and needed more acute care. He would need a full-time care giver, someone to give him a bath, someone to get him in and out of bed. This meant his own bed. 

Imagine. You have shared a bed with someone for 80 years. Now the prospect of separating. 

It is often the case in Hospice care for the social worker to have the "difficult" conversations and this one was tasked to me.. 

Melba and Scott sat at the exceedingly small table in their room surrounded by pill bottles and stacks of snacks. In a voice louder then I would have liked I told Melba and Scott we were going to have to move out the Queen size bed and bring in a hospital bed for Scott, so the CNA could take care of him. 

With blank stares and confused faces they both just stared at me, they both looked at each other than me. 

They reached for each other's hands and immediately started to cry.

Keeping emotions in is usually easy most of the time but this time I cried with them. 

I could see pain. I could feel the pain of not falling asleep, waking up and holding your person of 80 years.

This was one of the hardest conversations I had, one of the longest cries with a patient I had.

 Melba and Scott were one my biggest examples of what it all means to be partners in life. Being part of their story was a privilege to witness, a couple in the last few years, decline together, to watch the care she gave and share was a blessing. 

Scott passed in his hospital bed. She was holding his hand. I was there. Melba grieved. We all did. It was beautiful.