back to dying

i am surprised at how frequently i forget that i am in the business of dying. that every single one of my patients will die. and usually pretty quickly.

the average patient stays on hospice for 13 days before "expiring". 13 days.

it is some strange draw of straws that most of my patients i get to see for months before they decline and pass away. and it is in the inevitable descent that i remember that i should have been expecting this all along.

so, one of my most favorite patients is now "actively dying". everyone is expecting him to pass some time in the night. his recent rapid decline surprised us all. and i am not sure we, those who do this for a living, were quite ready. i certainly wasn't.

i went to see him today. i usually give the courtesy knock, open the door and find him reclined in his favorite chair, where he bellows out his standard greeting: "who are you?? what are you doing here?? which he then promptly amends: "i'm just kidding! , comehereandgivemeahug. but today he was in bed, unresponsive, and breathing once every 25-30 seconds.
i pulled him up in bed, put him in his favorite blue shirt, and counted breaths and seconds between breaths for an hour. his daughter arrived and i surrendered to her the chair beside his bed. on my way out i kissed his forehead and right against his ear said my standard departure: "okay, my friend, im off. be good, but not too good." and added "i love you, tom." as i felt the looming, approaching loss swell up in my throat. he actually opened his eyes for a moment and brought my hand to his face to kiss the back of it. i suppose that was goodbye.

im sorry that this reads a bit like a lifetime movie. i try to steer away from the mushy stuff... but then again, i forget that am in the business of dying. mush is inevitable. pun intended.