A Pain Born of Emptiness
Last Friday night after work, I stopped by the hospital. I knew I wouldn't be able to see Karen, but I figured some of her family would be there. Her sister was sitting at a table. As I went in, she said to me, "I'm just finishing the thank you notes." Knowing that she doesn't have much more time, it was important to Karen to be sure she had thanked us for the scrapbook we put together for her and others for gifts they had given her, etc. This will probably be the last thing she was able to do.
She had asked her mom to go to her office and get her personal things. We had them boxed up, but they were still at the building. Her daughter said she would come pick them up and I told her I would meet her there the next day. She said, "okay" and then realized it would be Saturday. I assured her that going over on Saturday would be no problem. On Saturday morning, I was headed to Sam's and called to let her know I would be going by the office. She asked if I would mind to bring the things to my house and let them pick them up there. I could understand that - too much pain in going by an empty office previously filled with her mom's presence.
Karen's son came by our house late Saturday evening. We gave him a hug and asked how he was doing. He said, "I feel empty." I could understand that - not yet 21, still in college, and his mom is dying. "She can't talk to me," he said, "But I can talk to her." Yes, you can, I told him.
We had a lot of things to do over the week-end, and I knew her family would be with her, so I didn't go by the hospital. Monday morning, I went up. The family room was empty - except for her husband. I sat and we talked while the nurses were bathing Karen. He told me he didn't question her dying - everyone has to die. But the pain - he said no animal should have to go through that pain.
The doctor is trying to control her pain. No more treatment - nothing except something to keep the fever under control, and try to control the pain.
After the nurses had finished bathing her, Richard told me I could come in the room if I wanted to. I went in. She was sleeping peacefully. I touched her hand, and told her I was there. I could sense her struggling to wake up, so I just told her, "You don't have to wake up." She relaxed, and a tear moistened her eyelash. I just stood with my hand on her arm for a couple of minutes, and then told her I was leaving, but I would be back to check on her. She said, "okay" although she never opened her eyes. I felt empty when I left - it was the first time I had left her room without a hug.
I don't know how much time Karen has left. This I do know. Her leaving is going to leave a big empty hole in my heart. And in the hearts of a lot of people.
And I thought this morning - Karen would have been really mad at Richard - because he let me in the room and she didn't have her scarf on. And Karen didn't let anyone see her without her scarf! She still makes me laugh.
She had asked her mom to go to her office and get her personal things. We had them boxed up, but they were still at the building. Her daughter said she would come pick them up and I told her I would meet her there the next day. She said, "okay" and then realized it would be Saturday. I assured her that going over on Saturday would be no problem. On Saturday morning, I was headed to Sam's and called to let her know I would be going by the office. She asked if I would mind to bring the things to my house and let them pick them up there. I could understand that - too much pain in going by an empty office previously filled with her mom's presence.
Karen's son came by our house late Saturday evening. We gave him a hug and asked how he was doing. He said, "I feel empty." I could understand that - not yet 21, still in college, and his mom is dying. "She can't talk to me," he said, "But I can talk to her." Yes, you can, I told him.
We had a lot of things to do over the week-end, and I knew her family would be with her, so I didn't go by the hospital. Monday morning, I went up. The family room was empty - except for her husband. I sat and we talked while the nurses were bathing Karen. He told me he didn't question her dying - everyone has to die. But the pain - he said no animal should have to go through that pain.
The doctor is trying to control her pain. No more treatment - nothing except something to keep the fever under control, and try to control the pain.
After the nurses had finished bathing her, Richard told me I could come in the room if I wanted to. I went in. She was sleeping peacefully. I touched her hand, and told her I was there. I could sense her struggling to wake up, so I just told her, "You don't have to wake up." She relaxed, and a tear moistened her eyelash. I just stood with my hand on her arm for a couple of minutes, and then told her I was leaving, but I would be back to check on her. She said, "okay" although she never opened her eyes. I felt empty when I left - it was the first time I had left her room without a hug.
I don't know how much time Karen has left. This I do know. Her leaving is going to leave a big empty hole in my heart. And in the hearts of a lot of people.
And I thought this morning - Karen would have been really mad at Richard - because he let me in the room and she didn't have her scarf on. And Karen didn't let anyone see her without her scarf! She still makes me laugh.
God, as Karen's days on this earth come to an end, fill the hearts of her family with your presence and your peace. May they turn to you to fill the emptiness. May they know your loving care and comfort. May we all look to you to fill the empty places of our souls. In Jesus name. Amen.
posted by pawatson at
5/09/2006 07:39:00 PM
