High Flight
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long delirious, burning blue,
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew -
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untresspassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.
This poem is posted on the wall in Ralph and Martha's hallway. As I watch the Colonel slipping away day by day, I often think of these words. They are surly, the bonds that he seeks to retain. Connecting him to a world which holds pain, and a seemingly never-ending cycle of waking, eating, vomiting, sleeping...
I wanted to share a resource for other Caregivers, and to tell you how I practice what the resource teaches.
The first thing Ralph asked for when he woke up this morning was a shower. This is a huge production, and I end up nearly as wet as he does! But this is also a gentle bonding time, in which I can nurture his spirit and care for his body with dignity. Yesterday was one of the hardest days he has had so far, but last night was great. This morning I took the opportunity to very gently apply lotion to his legs and feet, after the shower. "Compassionate Touch" is the technique, and is worth learning. It's sort of the secret to the sense of wellbeing the person has after what might have been an embarassing or awkward time of washing, dressing, etc. Every touch is delivered with powerful mental messages of worth, esteem, and care. Putting lotion on the legs, the thoughts go like this "I am honored to serve you. You are a person of great value. You deserve grace and dignity." If you look up into the face of the person to whom you are delivering this touch, you see the expression of relaxed enjoyment. Putting on the tee shirt, pulling up the Depends, all have the same effect. "I honor you. I care for you. You are not a burden." I don't know how, but the message is delivered. You must be very present with the person for this to "work". You cannot be putting lotion on withered hands and consider what you'll be cooking for dinner. If you do that, all that is received is moisturizer. Hold their frail hands gently in both of yours, and slowly rub lotion into the delicate skin. "You mean so much to so many. You've lived and served well, and it is your turn to receive this care." Even pulling the tee shirt over slivery gray hair, the message is sent. This is why, every single day, I hear "When you're here, I know everything will be alright." It's the message conveyed in every touch. It can be instinctive, however it's also good to learn. Anyone can do this. If you're a caregiver, take a moment to see if this might help you.
Here's the resource page: Until he slips the 'surly bonds of earth', he will know there is deep care on that earth, just for him.
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I am also a paid caregiver and will do as you suggested when Ruth gets out of the NH. Thank you for the loving suggestion..
Thank you for starting this thread of your very special mission with the Colonel and his precious wife, Martha. I Googled that poem because I remembered it from years ago. Hard to believe it was written by a 19 year old boy/man, John Gillespie Magee, Jr., who lost has life at that age as a fighter pilot in WWII.
I think of you often, Ruth, and am inspired by your manner and philosophy of your 'compassionate ways'. I hope you write a book about your experiences; you are truly inspiring.
With Lots of Love and Tremendous Respect,
Christina
It was a privilege reading -- and feeling -- your Compassionate Touch. I'm not allowed to physically touch my clients, but I can certainly post the words "I am honored to serve you. You are a person of great value. You deserve grace and dignity." on my desk where everyone can read them and feel as I do right now. Thank you so much.
-- ED
I get to spend 24 hours with her starting tomorrow morning at 10am. I got one of those large jars of HUGE Spanish olives at Trader Joe's, because they're her favorite. Plus they're green!
Last shift, at almost 11pm, she was crying and I was sitting on her bed. She said she was tired of trying to be brave. I told her that nobody is expecting her to be "brave", and that she has every right to cry and grieve. I told her that when she shows her true feelings, her kids can surround her with love and support. She's such a Southern Lady - so proper. And she also learned, as the wife of a member of the US AIrForce during war time, to hide her sadness and fear.
She's a dear little thing. I get to take her to the doctor tomorrow.
Seeing his son deal with this reality was so hard, but together we dressed "Dad" in one of his best shirts. It was a night of little sleep, of course.
They took his body away at 2am. His hair was neatly brushed; and as I told his wife "I knew I better brush his hair, or deal with his wrath!" She laughed. There is a beautiful sound to the laugh which comes in the middle of sorrow.
The poem at the start of this post was read at his funeral. There were full military honors.
I feel as if a family member has died. He was a big man, in a small little frame at the end.
He sure did put up a fight!
It was very hard. I held it together pretty well, but it wasn't easy, especially with family gathering and crying... seeing big strong guys cry just stabs my heart.
Two other caregivers have quit - they can't stand to see him go. Interesting. I'm one of the least experienced. But I'm filling in some gaps which will be taxing, but probably not for too long.
If I get the honor of attending his death, I will be thankful.
When I left Tuesday night I told him "Night shift is here. I will be back Thursday. You are my favorite Colonel."
Oh, and I gave his wife a manicure and did her hair. We also watched Jeopardy together and I fixed her a special chicken dinner. She was very pleased. And we cried together.
I know what I will do tomorrow.
I will go to his bedside and be sure he knows it's me, and kiss his cheek. He loves it when I kiss his cheek, and often stretches out his neck, and points at his cheek to order up a kiss. I will sing to him "our" song... "Button up your overcoat, when the wind is free. Take good care of yourself, you belong to me." He loves that silly song. I sing it, or used to, when I would button up his pajama top.
And I will love on Mrs. Colonel tomorrow. Oh, Martha. How you've suffered so bravely.
I'm steeling myself for a long twelve hours. But I know that what I bring to their home I must bring tomorrow. Laughing and music and fun. Even in the face of death, somehow there has to be fun, or they wouldn't know it was me.
I love them.
I've learned so much about life and patience and family and age.
This is my first full caregiving assignment. I'll never be the same. Little things just don't annoy like they used to. Life seems shorter. Family seems more important.
And you, family caregivers, are my heros.
To sleep now, so I can have energy to give my Colonel and his lovely lady.
Good night.
V
It's so good to be reminded of how every interaction we have with our cared-for loved one is precious.