A Serendipitous encounter…

I met a woman at the dog park today. In a serendipitous encounter the woman I was going to meet for a dog play date bumped into a friend of hers. This woman was currently caring for her disabled husband. A few weeks ago I might have just said a polite hello. But as she talked about her husband and her recent trials, I felt a kinship. I told her briefly of Mike. She talked a little about her situation, her care giving experiences, our shared experience with a wonderful Kaiser doctor, Dr. Absar.
I let her talk, offering encouraging and affirming comments. The conversation flowed naturally and the points that were important for her and me came together. Her husband wanted to die at home. I knew what that was like. She had a minor physical ailment and didn't see the importance of taking care of herself. I had just read and discussed the concept of self-care and perceived selfishness in an Artist Way group.
I had two points to share.

1. Taking care of your self isn't selfish. It is no different than putting on your own oxygen mask first, before putting on your child's mask. If you lose consciousness before getting the oxygen to your child – you will both perish. But if you put on your mask first, even as your child loses consciousness you have the strength to lift her head and place the mask on her face.
2. Hospice isn't just for the patient. It is also for the rest of us. I imagined hospice would manage the pain, equipment, lab work, doctor's orders, etc. for the patient. It never occurred to me that hospice was there too, to provide support for the family. I thought having hospice in the house would add a whole new level of confusion, more people, and more noise. What I experienced was a gentle wave of care, quiet reminders, a soft caring hug, and genuine offers of assistance.

After we parted ways, I thought we both came away with a small gem of insight. She realized she was not alone. She had just met someone whose husband had died at home, per his wishes. And although you can logistically plan for it, you can't plan for the emotion and grief – it just flows in its own time.
As for me, I kept hearing her tone of wonderment and disbelief in her words, "It's only been 4 months?" She had said the phrase a few times, maybe three. It was a reminder to me that 4 months is not that long when it comes to grief.