It was his second admission. He had been beautifully cared for by his family over many months, but the last week had been terrible. He was agitated, restless, and did not know what to do with himself. His wife wanted him to come back into hospice for end of life care.
On arrival he was semi-conscious, agitated and not able to talk clearly. His body was so unwell that his mind was no longer able to be lucid. Although he tried so hard to be there, it looked as if he was in-between two worlds. His family reported that he had seen dead ancestors.
I didn’t want there to be any surprises: I spoke in a quiet voice and tried to be as clear to them as possible, using simple English.
He is so unwell, so exhausted. He is dying.
I purposefully used the word dying at least five times during the 15 minutes of my visit.
When someone is dying everything inside can become all messed up, like he’s in a storm. He doesn’t know which way is up or down, and it might be really scary for him.
End of life delirium/terminal restlessness.
When someone is dying, they become less clear in their thinking, and sleepier. That is Nature or a higher power’s [palms open being raised towards the ceiling] way of protecting the dying person from having to have the full 3D/HD experience of dying.
He could see that his own distress was causing distress to his family, which caused him further distress.
I will change his medications to relax him. We’re going to calm it all down, and we are going to get him through this. We’re going to get you all through this.
I was caught off guard when he suddenly opened his eyes and reached out to shake my hand in both of his. He thanked me for what I had done for him.
Nek minnit – [I was being hugged and I hugged him back.]