Caregivers who embrace
patient care with win-win expectations know that aha moments can come at any
time. Meaningful conversations and feelings drift into a now/here place that
helps us worm our way from the unknown to the known. Aha moments are not forced
or always joyous and explosive occasions. Many times they are subtle, quiet
with a settled satisfaction that brings whispered gifts of personal knowing
about life lessons. One reason some people assume hospice work is depressing is
that our aha moments with patients are not shared enough with people who are
unaware of powerful scenarios we experience sometimes.
Recall a few of the aha moments you have known, especially those that made
you better people. Many of you have had them. Share these enlightenments with
others who wonder why you do this work or those who express a general interest
in what your work entails. Aha moments can enhance lives of patients and caregivers.
This poem describes one of my
favorite aha moments as a hospice volunteer. I had a very challenging patient whose name was
Katherine. She usually lay in bed sleeping or looking up at the ceiling. I
couldn’t tell if she was bored, unhappy, mellow, or all three. Rarely speaking,
she never sat up on her own or walked. We mostly stared at each other while I
talked.
Knowing
that Katherine had been active in her Baptist church in the South at one time, I decided to
use my CD player with headphones (this was before iPods, etc.) to help her
enjoy music sung by Mahalia Jackson, whom many hail as the greatest gospel
singer ever. After reading this poem, you’ll understand why it’s one of my
favorite aha moments and why I still smile every time I read it. Share your aha
moments with others, and you’ll be smiling, too.
Sounds of Ecstasy
Headphones frame your head.
You look at me, your volunteer,
wonder what they can be.
Mahalia Jackson’s song erupts,
“When the saints go marching
in...”
Sleepy eyes widen like popped
corn.
“It’s a CD player,” I say.
Your mental video rewinds
through time from the nursing home
to an Alabama church service
where bodies rock to music.
I join you clapping with the
choir.
Your stiffened hands move
with a powerful energy that rises
like a resurrected hot flash.
“It’s wonderful,” you whisper.
Mahalia responds singing,
“Walk all over God’s heaven...”
I picture you joking with Death
when it’s your time to holy dance
to the Other Side of Through.
Mesmerized by the music,
you soak in every song.
A CD player exhilarates you
with sounds of ecstasy.
Such an easy thing for me
to bring, but before I leave,
you say you love me twice.
©
Frances Shani Parker from Becoming Dead Right: A Hospice Volunteer in Urban
Nursing Homes
Frances Shani Parker,
Author
