As a NODA (No One Dies Alone) volunteer, I have the privilege and honor of sitting with men and women who are nearing the end of their lives who, for whatever reason, have nobody else to be with them. They may have hours to live and possibly even minutes or seconds. It is my job to sit with them and let them know they are not alone but someone is there with them while they are transitioning.
This one “vigil” as we call it, I entered the hospital, hospice room which was eerily quiet. It was about 5:45 a.m. and the patient was laying in the hospital bed, covered to his shoulders with a white sheet, breathing at an accelerated rate. His eyes were closed.
I sat down on the chair next to the window, put my belongings down next to me on the windowsill and pulled the chair a little closer to the patient. I began whispering to him that I came back again as promised (from yesterday) and asked if it were okay if I sat with him for a little while. I expected no response and was not disappointed when he didn’t reply. That was sometimes customary for hospice patients.
I began reassuring him that he was in good hands, everything was okay, he was fine and there should be no worries at all. I told him he need not be scared and that he is loved by so many people. I commented on how handsome he looked this morning and what great color he had on his face and I then sat quietly as his breathing continued at a steady pace.
About 20 minutes later after the nurse took his vitals and left the room, this patient’s breathing began to get a little erratic. I noticed he seemed to struggle with each breath he took. His shoulders twitched as he tried to get a deep, cleansing breath. I began to get a little concerned and watched him even closer.
About 10 minutes later this man’s breathing began to get shallower and shallower. He didn’t seem to be struggling like before but there was definitely a change to be had. His breathing was so shallow, I had to resort to watching the hospital sheet that covered him move ever so slightly with every breath he took.
I continued monitoring his breathing, whispering slowly to him that everything was okay, telling him he was going to a beautiful place and he was in good hands. His breathing began to get even more shallow if that were even possible. I now was sitting on the edge of my chair leaning towards him, patting his arm to reassure him all was okay and that I was there with him; he was not alone.
At this point I began to count the seconds between each breath he took. The seconds got longer and longer. I was up to 45 seconds at one point.
A few minutes later while I was counting seconds…there was no other breath. I waited and waited for the breath to come but it never did. I immediately exited the room and saw a nurse’s aide in the hallway right by this patient’s door. I explained I thought the patient had just expired and he walked quickly into the room. He took the patient’s vitals and didn’t get anything. He then looked at me and told me he was going to get the nurse and he left.
About 15 minutes later, the nurse came into the room, took this patient’s vitals and there was nothing. She then pronounced the time of death. While I tried my hardest to be composed, the tears streamed down my cheeks. I tried to hide them from the staff who had now gathered in this man’s room staring at this man but they noticed and asked if I was okay. I nodded affirmatively but deep down inside this patient’s demise bothered me more than others I have been with who had passed. In hindsight, I think what bothered me the most is the idea that I was with him and not his family when he died. I felt a sense of guilt as if I took away the moment he died and was there with him and not his own family. I know that is my job as a NODA volunteer but still…I felt a sense of guilt.
I think what also disturbed me is the fact that this man’s family would be notified of his passing and how sad they would be. I remembered when my mom passed away with me by her side on this same hospice floor and having to call my family to tell them she passed. I knew they would be devastated, despite her suffering tremendously in hospice due to her cancer metastasizing and the medication unable to alleviate or control her pain. That call was the hardest call I ever had to make even though it was not unexpected.
When the staff left this man’s room one by one and went on with their day tending to other patients, I gathered my belongings and slowly left this man’s room but not without patting him on his leg over the white sheet and telling him” G-d bless you”. I walked past the nurse’s station with my head down, down the hallway to the elevators and slowly entered the elevator. Numerous thoughts were going through my mind as I entered that elevator door. I kept thinking of this man’s family and the phone call they were about to receive. I thought of them possibly coming back to this hospital and saying goodbye to their loved one. I thought that they would have been here visiting this man at their scheduled time of 9:00 a.m. only missing his passing by an hour or so.
I called my husband and told him I was on the way home. He asked if everything was okay as it was unexpectedly early for me to come home so soon. I explained the patient passed and I began to cry. He asked if I was alright and I lied and told him I was. We then hung up and as protocol dictates, I sent a text to the Chaplain, Kevin, informing him the patient died and he may want to write that on the schedule so no other NODA volunteers sign up for this vigil and make a trip to the hospital for nothing.
Kevin texted me back and thanked me. I then called him and was a little upset. Kevin then asked “you weren’t there when he died, were you?” to which I responded, “yes, I was. I was with him when he died”.
Kevin then asked if I was okay and I started to cry. He reassured me I did the right thing and I did exactly what I was supposed to do. I stayed with the patient and he did not die alone. I was there with him. I explained to Kevin my guilt feelings for being there instead of his family and I was scared they would be upset and/or sad that they weren’t with him. Kevin, again, reiterated the fact that I did exactly as I was supposed to do as that is what NODA volunteers do. We stay with the patients when their family or friends could not be with them. This particular patient asked for NODA volunteer hours to be 7 p.m. until the following morning when they could not be with their loved one. I arrived early that morning (I believe around 5:30 a.m.) so the family wasn’t scheduled to be there until around 9 a.m. Still, I felt bad that they could not be with their loved one and I was there with him when he left this world. Sounds crazy, right?
Kevin was so understanding and sympathetic. He told me to “go do something nice” for myself and “be kind” to myself. He said “it’s gorgeous outside, maybe go to the park and enjoy the sunshine”. I took Kevin’s advise and spent a little time by myself before going home. I thought about my life and who may possibly be with me when I took my last breath. I prayed that I wouldn’t be a burden on anyone and that I would go peacefully just like this man.
I went home and hugged my husband and told him how much he meant to me (which I normally do but today was a little special). I hugged him longer and he could sense I was upset. We talked for a little while and then I spent some quality with our dog and cat. I enjoyed every minute of it and paid particular attention to everything we did. I noticed the sunshine a little more this day; I noticed the fresh air. I noticed my breathing and couldn’t help but think of the man who was alive just a few hours ago and now he would never see this sunshine or take a breath of fresh air again. I thanked the Lord for giving me such a wonderful life and incredible family.
I thought to myself how I have to make every single day count. We will all take our final breath someday…some time…somewhere. But live each day as if it truly were your last. No regrets.
While it made me sad what transpired this morning, it also made my smile because I knew this gentleman was in a much better place now; one where hopefully, one day, I will join him after taking my last breath.
About the Author:
LRosenthal563@aol.com
Lynn Rosenthal is a Detroit-area freelance writer who has spent three decades in the legal field. She is married to George Hunter who has covered crime for The Detroit News for over two decades.
Rosenthal and her husband co-authored “The Sadist, The Hitman and the Murder of Jane Bashara”, a true-crime book about a man who had his wife killed so he could live his BDSM lifestyle.
Rosenthal also wrote “Promises of Pennies from Heaven” which is about one woman’s journey of pain and perseverance after losing her mother and father in the space of two years.
Rosenthal had also written for The Detroit Jewish News and ehospice.com.
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You are a beautiful human being and a shining example of showing and acting on the compassion that we should all aspire to for our fellow human beings. I’m SO glad that I can call you my sister in law. I also adore your love of animals, which goes right along with your loving personality. My brother is a lucky man to have you in his life, and our family is blessed that you became a part of it. Mucho amore!
Beautiful article from a beautiful, compassionate woman. Lynn is our daughter-in-law although she is more like another daughter. She is a wonderful, loving person. We have all loved her dearly since the first time we met. We applaud her and are so very proud of her in every way, but even more so for the labor of love that she is doing for the NODA organization.