And she had flowers.
...
Our patient, we’ll call her Sisi because that’s what her family called her, was a homemaker, a mother, a grandmother, and an incredibly strong person.
She kept control over all aspects of her life and her home despite her illness, despite complications that caused both her hands to be amputated five years ago, and despite the cancer that attacked her liver at 80. Despite it all, she kept the upper hand.
At the request of her family, Sisi wasn’t aware that she was terminally ill, but she knew that her condition was not getting any better.
“They tell me I’m okay, but I know. I know that I won’t go back to how I was, and that’s alright.
I’m just terrified of the pain, Saria.”
“I promise you that as long as I’m here, I will do whatever I can to make sure you don’t feel any pain or discomfort.”
Saria, SANAD’s nurse, made sure to keep any decision related to the illness at Sisi’s disposal. From switching her bed to a medical bed so she could be more comfortable, to explaining everything about the medications before administrating them, to respecting her wish of staying quiet when she was getting tired at the final stages.
“I’m okay, Saria, but I don’t want to talk right now. You talk, I want to listen.”
And she’d close her eyes, and Saria would talk to her, about everything and about nothing, about life.
Sisi loved to cook.
She would sit in the kitchen and give her instructions with detail; what’s for lunch today? What should be stored in the freezer for later? How many sprinkles of salt for this dish? She was in charge.
And she loved to count her blessings.
“I’m grateful that my family is by my side, I’m grateful that life is still good, I’m grateful that my son came all the way from Canada to stay by my side, I’m grateful that I’m not in pain.
Thank you, Saria, I’m not in pain.”
And she loved flowers.
Her son discovered this fact when someone from the family came over and brought a nice arrangement of flowers. He saw how her face lit up and ever since there wasn’t a day where he didn’t get her a bouquet. The beautiful one in the picture is the last one that decorated her room.
Along with the bouquet that he brought his mom usually came a lot of kisses, a lot of love and pampering and snuggles, and a lot of soft dances and music and small trips around the house, to the rooms that were hard for her to reach in the final stages.
“We’re going on a date.”
And he’d hold her and move from one room to the next, and she’d laugh.
“I’m trying to stay positive and not be sad and cry, Saria, I’m really trying to stay strong and put myself in the “nurse mentality”.”
“Leave the nurse mentality for me, I’ll handle every symptom that arises don’t worry about it. You can grieve.”
Our patient left this world a few days ago.
She had her family, and farewell videos sent to her all the way from her grandchildren in The United States.
She had the warmth of home, and peace and quiet.
She had SANAD.
And she had flowers.