Hospice

His other Name is Love… (Written specifically for Caregivers of Hospice) By Charlene Potterbaum

As I enjoyed my first cup of coffee this morning, I felt something bubbling up. I waited long enough to be sure it was inspiration, and not something gastric brought on by the aging process. A few weeks ago, I was asked by Hospice to write something about being a Care-giver. At the time, I was caring for my ninety-one year old mother-in-law who had pancreatic cancer, and the burden left no room for creative juices to flow. I looked at Vonette, the Hospice spiritual counselor who had made this simple request— as though she had just asked me to make an amendment to the Constitution. I sighed deeply, as I said, “Not now. Maybe later…” She remained quiet for a moment, then suggested, “Journaling. Are you journaling?” “No,” I responded. “It’s written on my heart. It will be there when I need it.” A few weeks later, Grandma passed away, so serenely—this little woman whose every thought was tainted by fear; whose life had been so filled with agitation and unpleasantness. As my husband, Gene—her only child—watched her slip away, tears of joy welled up inside of me. Now, don’t be too harsh on me— please hear me out. I experienced the joy, because I did it! I kept her here in our home until she drew that final breath. It was a Holy Moment that I shall never forget. With invisible things going on around me, I became aware that God was so very Present; that all the things that made her unpleasant were dissolving into nothingness—that when, and as, she entered that other dimension, she and I would start to have a loving relationship, the kind that I had hoped we might have together here in this realm—but that just never happened; that the disagreeable things were nothing but dross, and sliding away, even as she stepped into His Presence. She, who had always felt so much like a thorn in the flesh to my psyche, had come to bless me, to show me—albeit, in a negative way—what not to do, and be. If the person who is in your care at this time has some unpleasantness about them, you will see it all differently, but not until the whole story is finished and laid to rest.

For years, Grandma had tried to get me to promise “never to put her in a nursing home!” Always, my response was, “But Grandma, I don’t know what the end holds for us! I can’t make a promise like that! I had to put my own mother in a nursing home!” I remember the moments when I was weak and crying in the Hospice nurse’s arms, blubbering—“I can’t go on—I just can’t!” And Chris, dear, dear Chris, the Hospice nurse, agreed, and we started conversations with the Hospice social worker, as to what we needed to do to put Grandma into a “home.” Then something on the inside of me whispered, “But she is already in a home!Yours!” So we continued on with the bedtime tantrums, the “Vicks-ing” that insured I would never have a ‘stiff upper lip’ (in moments of extreme necessity, if you get my drift, Chris had recommended we use Vicks to make stenches more bearable. I grew addicted to it, wore it under my nose, behind my ears, bought stock in the company, named our home Vicksburg, and my friends took to calling my “Vicksy.”) Now, I realize that people of many religious persuasions will be reading this so I will do my best to stay within everyone’s comfort zone; however, when we draw that last breath, we are going to be so surprised! Standing there, with arms outstretched in Light so Brilliant, it will be indescribable—This Presence will welcome us all, and we will go to Him— It—She—They—the Oneness—and nary a word will be spoken as to which church, synagogue, temple or store front we attended! Love will prevail, and it will be such a Universal Love, we will all join in the One Song—for that is what “Uni-verse” means! One Song! Or, we could say, “One song, singing!” (When I first heard the expression—“The Universe is here to support you!” and I coupled it with “Underneath are the Everlasting Arms,” I went into a tail spin of ecstasy that goes way beyond the silly drug by the same name!) You see, I believe that death is an entering into a pure, spiritual realm, and also probably the most thrilling experience we will ever have. It is nothing to be feared, which is a comforting thought as death will come to all of us and my own mother, as she aged, would say, “Ah, girls…it aint the dyin’ that’s so bad, so much as it is the ‘gettin’ ready’ to.” It is time to replace fear with Love and that can only come about, as we become willing to open our own hearts to all that Love has for us. You see, Love is God’s Other Name! When Gene’s aunt was dying and going through such a struggle, I leaned down and whispered into her ear, “Aunt Edith, none of us knew how

to be born, either, but we all made it just fine…you can let go, and God will show you how to die. You don’t have to do that alone, either.” I appreciated so much, the fact that Hospice was there for the caregivers as well as the patient. I think Vonette and I talked together more than she and Grandma ever did, while Andrea (another plus from Hospice!) bathed Grandma while laughing at all the crazy stories that little woman came up with. Vonette and I often talked about the difference between caregivers (as in Hospice) and caretakers which we hear so much about when we study any Al-Anon literature. (Trust me, I have been in both camps, so I know from whence I speak!) I said, “Vonette, there is such a fine line between caregivers and caretakers. I think that fine line can be defined as ‘resentment.’ Poor Grandma had to stay in that hospital for one month. She thought it was because the Doctor wouldn’t release her. I think it was because God knew it would take me that long to make my decision to take her into our home. I knew that if I did it with any degree of resentment, it would come under ‘caretaker’ and my reactions would reek with victimization and the feeling of being ‘put upon.’ So I had to wait, and so did she.” Well, she is at rest now. There is a niggling little part of me that would like to share some of the things that she put me through—but in that it was all dissolved when she drew that last breath, why enumerate the imagined hurts? I will share this with you, however. Our cousin Vickey came to stay with us for a short period while Grandma was preparing to die. I said, “Vickey, she sure knows how to push our buttons!” After being silent for a moment, Vickey said something pretty profound. She said, “You know—if we didn’t have any buttons—she couldn’t push them!” So what do I wish to say to you, dear harried caregiver? I wish to say —hang in there! It will be worth it all, when that day of laying aside your burden finally comes to you. When the times of shame come to you, because you inwardly wish the whole thing was over and you don’t want anyone to know you ever thought such a terrible thought—when the night sleep is interrupted—when the bowels of your loved one erupt and smell up the whole house—AGAIN! When you want to spank them because they are so naughty, headstrong and belligerent—when you think you can’t go on for one minute more—when you think you have used up all your reserves—take some very deep breaths, and draw heavily upon the Love that lies within you —for it is there for you. Let me leave you with two thoughts—I heard Louise Hay say, on tape —“We have enough Love in our hearts to heal the entire world—but for the

time being, let’s just use it to heal our own….” And many years ago, I heard a Rev. Kennedy from Florida say, on TV—“If we could get deeply enough into the heart of everyone we know, we would then know EXACTLY why they do what they do—and we could never be mad at them!” This is EXACTLY how God sees us—or, how Love sees us, should you not yet be comfortable with that “other Name.” So in those moments when you want to throw in the towel, run and hide, scream at the top of your lungs, hide your dark thoughts, cry until you can’t breathe—go into “deep.” Deep into the Love of God that knows what you are going through, understands perfectly, cares beyond description, and sees why it is all good for you…for He wastes nothing! I believe my little labor of Love I am extending to you has been written not just by me, but by those who have gone on before us, who, from the view that they have now, realize why it all came about; that they can see our “shining” in a way we can’t see—and they know it all had a purpose behind it. We were challenged, and we met the challenge—we have grown, spiritually—and the world will become a better place because of what we have done. Unto this have we been called—to be there for one another; for the world will know that “we are of Him, if we have Love, one for another.” Hospice was built from that kind of love. I could not have done it without my Hospice support! To Hospices everywhere, I take my halo in my hand, place it over my heart, and make as elegant a bow to you, as one can when they are my age, what with creaking knees and all…I thank you from not just the bottom of my heart, (which is probably sagging, too—like so many other parts of me) but from the whole width and breadth of it, as I push at its boundaries to include the entire world, even as you have! God bless you all! Charlene Potterbaum is the author of the bestseller Thanks, Lord, I Needed That, Joy of Six, and Granny and the Gay Guy, co-authored with Jim Pauley.