In my first week of hospice training I was told 50% of patients only live two weeks from the time they are admitted into hospice.
The work itself is full of waiting. Waiting for the patient and family members to show you what they need. Waiting for the next decline. Waiting for news. Waiting for the next change. Waiting for the end. I often struggle in my own life with just being in a space, with no action, no solution. This work reinforces for me the power of being.
My current patient celebrated her eighty-first birthday this week. We ate birthday cake and talked about baseball and books. She told me stories of her past, road-trips and old friends. This is her third week in hospice, and I sense she will be around for a while still.
Yet I find myself waiting.
