One of things hospice organizations rely on is donations, especially for those of us in the non-profit world. These donations generally come by way of organized fund raisers and memorials.
One particular memorial I will not forget. It had been a very busy day at our hospice house, several admissions and deaths. I had 2 medical students with me as well, so any spare moment was taken up teaching them little pearls of knowledge. Someone from the reception desk suddenly appeared in my periphery and motioned me saying, "Dr. C, would you have a minute to come receive a memorial up at the front".
This in itself was highly unusual, as typically families just sent memorials to us in the mail. I must have looked confused because our receptionist further clarified, "They asked if they could specifically present it to one of our doctors." Now I was getting excited, speculating that this must be quite a donation! I had visions of lottery winners being handed over sized checks, as cameras clicked and hands were shaken.
"Sure" I replied with enthusiasm, having the two medical students come with me so they could be wowed as well. Walking down our long hallway I was trying to speculate who it could be, and feeling just a bit nervous at this unusual request.
As I rounded the corner I encountered 4 people I knew quite well; John a mechanic in his 60's and his 3 adult children. We all hugged, as I began to recall the weeks I had spent caring for John's wife. John teared up a bit when he spoke up, "We just can't say enough about the care Dorothy received here. We wanted to personally present you with this donation so you can continue the good work you all do" His rugged grease stained hands passed me an envelope and he gave one last hug. I smiled then as he waited for me to open up their gift.
The moment I had seen that it was John, I knew that I had been foolish to dream up some giant donation. This was a family who lived in poverty, who spent everything they had on medical bills and Internet "cures" for Dorothy's cancer.
As I opened the envelope and saw the check for $25, and met the eager tear streaked faces of the family, so proud of what they had scraped together, I too cried.
Walking back down the hallway, one of the medical students who had observed this all, including my uncharacteristic display of emotion quipped, "Wow, that must have been a really big donation! How much was it?"
"A fortune" I said, and left it at that.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
A Mother's love
This Valentine's I am remembering Megan and the incredible love she had for her daughter.
When I first met Megan I was extremely skeptical about her ability to care for her newly born daughter Lilly. Megan, 17 and Todd, her boyfriend, also 17 had just brought Lily home from the hospital for the first time. They had no home or apartment of their own, so they were "crashing" with friends. I entered the small apartment just hours after they had been discharged. Four other people were already living in the apartment, which was scantly furnished, yet cluttered and untidy.
My primary interest was in 4 week old Lily, so I squatted down on the floor to meet Lily, as they had no baby furniture/equipment to put her in. She was bundled in blankets on the floor, with an oxygen tube taped to her cheek. Lily had several issues; besides being born with a congenital brain malformation, causing certain parts of her brain not to form, she also was born with a cleft lip and palate. The combination of the brain malformations and the cleft left her with basically a large whole for a mouth and nose and lopsided eyes which she could not see out of. All her nutrition was through a feeding tube. Medically she had severe seizures on a sometimes daily basis, and didn't enjoy being touched and would scream out when being held.
The reason I was seeing Lily was that she had been given a prognosis of only weeks to live, and I distinctly remember thinking that I hoped, for Megan and Todd's sake this was true. They were just too overwhelmed. I left that first night thinking a lot about Megan and Todd, both high school drop outs who had enjoyed playing video games during the day and partying at night. They had unexpectedly become pregnant and decided to do the "right" thing and keep the baby. Now they were being expected to do something super human, and care for a dying child who had a distorted face and didn't like to be cuddled or touched.
Todd didn't handle it long, and left after about a month at home. Lily, surprisingly thrived in Megan's care. At my monthly visits, I watched Megan work like a pro, getting the tube feeds ready, administering seizure medications, etc. Even when she'd been up all night due to Lily's seizures, she spoke to Lily as only a mother could; gently, lovingly, and sweet. The two of them had moved from one friends apartment to another. Although different locations their "home" always looked about the same - always other teenagers at my visits, hanging out playing video games, always evidence of fast food meals, cigarettes and alcohol. But also just as consistent was Megan paying attention to Lily, asking about milestones and telling about little victories in Lily's head strength and cognition. I could tell when Megan looked at Lily she only saw beauty and possibility.
Lily lived just past her 1st birthday.... Her death was tragic, not because she suffered or had pain as she died, but because over the course of the year, Megan had fallen head over heals in love with Lily. The immature teenager I first met had been transformed by love to become a wise responsible woman. Megan embodied the kind of love that "always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."
When I first met Megan I was extremely skeptical about her ability to care for her newly born daughter Lilly. Megan, 17 and Todd, her boyfriend, also 17 had just brought Lily home from the hospital for the first time. They had no home or apartment of their own, so they were "crashing" with friends. I entered the small apartment just hours after they had been discharged. Four other people were already living in the apartment, which was scantly furnished, yet cluttered and untidy.
My primary interest was in 4 week old Lily, so I squatted down on the floor to meet Lily, as they had no baby furniture/equipment to put her in. She was bundled in blankets on the floor, with an oxygen tube taped to her cheek. Lily had several issues; besides being born with a congenital brain malformation, causing certain parts of her brain not to form, she also was born with a cleft lip and palate. The combination of the brain malformations and the cleft left her with basically a large whole for a mouth and nose and lopsided eyes which she could not see out of. All her nutrition was through a feeding tube. Medically she had severe seizures on a sometimes daily basis, and didn't enjoy being touched and would scream out when being held.
The reason I was seeing Lily was that she had been given a prognosis of only weeks to live, and I distinctly remember thinking that I hoped, for Megan and Todd's sake this was true. They were just too overwhelmed. I left that first night thinking a lot about Megan and Todd, both high school drop outs who had enjoyed playing video games during the day and partying at night. They had unexpectedly become pregnant and decided to do the "right" thing and keep the baby. Now they were being expected to do something super human, and care for a dying child who had a distorted face and didn't like to be cuddled or touched.
Todd didn't handle it long, and left after about a month at home. Lily, surprisingly thrived in Megan's care. At my monthly visits, I watched Megan work like a pro, getting the tube feeds ready, administering seizure medications, etc. Even when she'd been up all night due to Lily's seizures, she spoke to Lily as only a mother could; gently, lovingly, and sweet. The two of them had moved from one friends apartment to another. Although different locations their "home" always looked about the same - always other teenagers at my visits, hanging out playing video games, always evidence of fast food meals, cigarettes and alcohol. But also just as consistent was Megan paying attention to Lily, asking about milestones and telling about little victories in Lily's head strength and cognition. I could tell when Megan looked at Lily she only saw beauty and possibility.
Lily lived just past her 1st birthday.... Her death was tragic, not because she suffered or had pain as she died, but because over the course of the year, Megan had fallen head over heals in love with Lily. The immature teenager I first met had been transformed by love to become a wise responsible woman. Megan embodied the kind of love that "always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."
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