Liquid Love

As a hospice nurse, part of the comfort I provide for patients and their families is a long, lingering hug that says, “I’ve got you. I am here. You are not alone.”

Most of the time, the hug is for them. But the truth is, I benefit from it too. Sometimes it is the only thing that helps me work through my own emotions after a last breath has been taken.

But we can’t hug anymore, and I struggle with that.

As this virus moves through our world, attempting to knock down everything in its path, it does not take into consideration the already fragile population who are ill and dying.

Facility doors are closed and locked down, leaving patients feeling alone and abandoned, and loved ones feeling guilty and helpless.

Families are afraid to let us into their homes, visits are being refused, and time with our patients is limited. Families cannot gather to say goodbye. They do not always get the chance for last words. Many patients are dying alone, and all of this goes against everything we strive for in hospice care.

I decided this virus was not going to change who I am. It was not going to get in the way of being there for someone at the end of their life. It was not going to stop me from providing the care I believe every human being deserves when they are dying.

I would figure out a way to offer comfort and support, just differently.

So when I was called to see a patient who was agitated, restless, short of breath, and actively dying, I put on my double masks and gloves and provided the very best care I could. With medication, repositioning, comfort care, and verbal reassurance that I would get him through this, his symptoms eased, and he was able to have a more peaceful dying process.

His son-in-law, who had left his wife and children at home to care for a man he considered a father, a brother, and a friend, was struggling too. The reality that he was dying was finally hitting him, and he began to cry.

I reached out with my double-gloved hands, placed mine over his, and held it there.

He needed to know he was not alone too.

Moments before the last breaths were taken, I had his son-in-law call his wife so she could be with her father as he died. I stood on one side of the bed, his son-in-law stood on the other, each of us holding one of his hands, six feet apart, while his daughter said her final goodbyes over the phone.

It was not the way any of us would have wanted it to be. But his death was without distress. It was full of compassion and kindness, and he was not alone.

Afterward, his son-in-law hung up the phone and started to cry. My instinct was to offer a long, lingering hug. Instead, I reached over, placed my hand on his, and reminded him that to feel this ache is to have known great love.

And I kept my hand there while he cried.

In many ways, that was a long, lingering hug.

We sat six feet apart and talked about their relationship. I listened. I gave him a safe place to remember, to feel, and to be reminded that he was not alone and that his grief was valid.

Two of his neighbors came by to pay their respects. Each wore masks and gloves. Each took turns coming into the room, honoring the protocols the best they could.

One of his friends began to sob and said, “Liquid love. That’s what these tears are. So much liquid love.”

Their visits were brief. There were no hugs. No one touched. Distance was respected. Safety protocols were in place.

And yet, love still filled the room.

He was honored. He was remembered. He was given a proper farewell.

I left that night feeling comforted, knowing that even with the barriers and protocols, I was still able to provide the kind of hospice care that fills my heart.

I know we cannot do this for everyone. I know we need to honor and respect the rules right now. But this inspired me to keep looking for new ways to help families say goodbye, to help patients die in peace, and to find creative ways to make sure no one dies alone, even with the obstacles in front of us.

xo

Gabby

Sending so much love to all of the healthcare workers who gave their all during COVID. ❤️