*WARNING* THIS POST TALKS ABOUT DEATH AND DYING
For the first time I had experienced this ceremonial event at the hospital called an “honor walk.” I’d never heard of an honor walk before until today, but it’s a ceremony to commemorate patients as they are transported to the operating room for organ procurement. Tonight as I participated in the commemoration of a young man, hospital staff silently lined the hallway of the ICU as a patient was transported from his inpatient room to the operating room. It was an intense moment to participate in, and had me reflecting upon my experiences with death and dying.
Anytime I have had an experience related to death and dying, my heart is always heavy. My first experience with death and dying was when I used to work as a certified nurse aide at this assisted living facility for geriatric (elderly) people. Working as a nurses aide in a place like this you really get to know the residents that live there and basically become sort of an extension of family. You get to know this person’s routine, what they like to eat, their humor; in a sense you get to know them even more intimately than their own family (especially when they can no longer do things like take themselves to the bathroom or bathe themselves independently).
When a resident would pass away at the facility, there would be a photo of the person and a faux candle when you walk in the foyer. Whenever I saw a photo at the entrance coming in to work, I remember crying every single time. The sadness just seemed inevitable; how could you not cry after caring for these people and becoming such an integral part of their lives? When I started nursing school I told myself I wouldn’t work in facilities like that when I graduated because I know my heart would break when someone would pass away.
After graduating nursing school I started to work in a hospital setting. In the hospital setting, we don’t typically care for patients for extended periods of time like in an assistant living facility. But even there, regardless if the patient was expected to pass, the tears would come. Again, my heart was heavy.
Then my own grandfather passed away this past January. I had never experienced the death of a loved one until then. Up until that moment, I don’t think I truly understood the heaviness and the depth of what it really meant. I had only experienced death and dying from a professional standpoint; I’d cared for OTHER peoples loved ones, cleaned their bodies, and even pronounced them dead. But nothing was like experiencing the death of a loved one first hand.
I carried that weight with me for a while; and sometimes I feel the weight come back on occasion. But after my grandpas death, the very next patient that I cared for that passed away, I still clearly remember holding his hand as I watched him take his last breath. I knew in that moment my grandpas death changed me a little bit. And I cried a little harder than I had before. I knew the true pain of experiencing the death and dying of someone I cared about; I experienced the process of grievance.
But in that moment as I watched that patient take his last breath, I also felt a sense of privilege knowing that by holding his hand I was part of easing his way. The honor walk I witnessed and was a part of tonight gave me the same sense of privilege. But this time, instead of easing the patient’s way, I partook in easing the families way as we (the hospital staff) honored their loved one departing this world. We gave recognition to the legacy this patient was leaving behind though organ donation.
Death and dying is tough, even if they’re a normal part of life. It’s a process. The grievance is a process. The acceptance is a process. Either way, what I’ve come to learn from the process is that we can never truly 100% know when we’re going to experience loss and all we can do (as cliche as it sounds, but nonetheless true), is we should make time for our loved ones and genuinely appreciate the moments we share with them before the process begins.