"Laughter is the Best Medicine" Keeping a Positive Perspective

"When death smiles at us. All we can do is smile back." My 60 year old patient said as he paraphrased the movie, Gladiator, and flashed me a big grin.

Bill [named changed to protect his identity] had been sick most of his life. His list of diagnoses was a half mile long and consist of a variety of heart conditions, lung illnesses, and neurological disorders. I sat there listening to Bill as he told me joke after joke and funny story after funny story until I had tears rolling down my cheeks. After we managed to compose ourselves, Bill decided to lay some wisdom on this young girl.

"Laughter is the best medicine. If you can't laugh then you might as well be dead. There's always something good to look for."

I couldn't help but take a step back and get lost in my own thoughts: this man who has been in and out of the hospital all his adult life still manages to smile and find laughter in the everyday. And he was so kind to share it with me.

A lot of people tell me "I couldn't do what you do" referencing the fact that I work for hospice and am surrounded by death and dying. But I'll be perfectly honest, I love my job, but some days are harder than others. There are days that I may sit with a family for hours as they watch their loved one pass so they don't have to be alone. There are days where my heart breaks because their simply isn't enough resources or money to help everyone. There are days I come home from work, take a long hot shower to wash the day away, and fall asleep at 8pm because I'm emotionally exhausted. These days are few and far between, but do happen. At the end of the day, I am able to shut off my work phone, take off my name badge and be 'just Emily'.

But my patients can't do that. They will not heal, most won't get better, and the majority of them know they will die within months. Their illness and who they are are one and the same; they can't just stop being sick. And yet they continue to smile and share their stories with me; stories that make me smile, laugh, cry, and ponder. I am richly blessed because I do not work with people how are "just dying," but people who are living history books that enrich my life every day.

I'm not just a social worker. I am a story keeper, a comforter, a sweet smile, a friendly visitor. But most importantly. I am blessed.

"I love Nancy!"

"I love Nancy!" this 80-something-year-old woman said as she was curled up under layers of blankets in her bed. I couldn't help but smile, of course I had to read it to her.

For those of you that aren't familiar with the Sunday comics in the newspaper, Nancy is one of those strips that's been around a while and for this patient it was one of her favorites.

Even though this woman could still read fairly well for herself, she indulged me as I read them to her out loud. We laughed and giggled at the simple humor; and her smile could melt hearts of stone.

As I'm sitting there enjoy this woman's presence, reading her the "funnies", I'm transported back to when I was a little girl sitting on my Grandma's knee:

I was just a little girl and I remember every Monday my Grandma would pull out the colored "funnies" from the Sunday newspaper and read them to me. She would point to each frame and do different voices for each character. She'd omit some of the strips that she didn't think I would get or that were too complicated to read aloud. My Grandma did this for years, even past the time I could read the comics myself.

Today, I had the pleasure of reading the Sunday Comics to a patient who has the diagnosis of "Senile Degeneration of the Brain." My Grandma has Alzheimer's Disease. I can't help but chuckle at the paradox of the circle of giving and receiving when it comes to today's events. I don't know whether you believe in a God or not, but you can't help but think there was a little destiny in how today unfolded.

Sharing this simple joy that I used to have with my Grandma so many years ago with this patient, showed me the beauty and simplicity that life can bring. I encourage you to share those moments because we all know too well that life is short.    

"I'm 87. I've lived a good life..."

Today I got to visit with an older gentleman. No matter the day, sitting and visiting with him always turns into an hour long story time. Today started out "I'm 87. I've lived a good life..."

"What made it good?" I asked.
"I had never traveled more than 60 miles from home [in West Virgina]. When I got drafted they sent me to Texas, then Louisiana, then they said 'you're shipping out' and I asked 'where to?' and no one ever told me. I went to Japan and farther; ended up in Korea...I worked on tanks and built bridges. When I came home they asked me to work and train people in the army. But I told them 'no, I wanted to get married'.
"I went home. I asked if she wanted to marry me, but her parents said she was too young. So I told her the only way to get married was if we got pregnant...we got married in her house and her parents consented and the preacher charged us $4."

He continued to go on telling me about how him and his brothers would race wagons down the hills in West Virginia dodging stumps and diving off the wagons if they were headed for a cliff. I couldn't help but ask him "how did you not break anything or end up dead?!" He just laughed at me.

Towards the end of the visit I told him that I loved listening to his stories. He said for me to come back any time and he'd try to think up more to tell me.

During the life reviews that I do with patients, it's very uncommon for me to hear anyone complain about living a hard life. Mostly everyone has something good that has happened to them; the sun always comes out tomorrow.
If it wasn't for the Army, he never would have traveled outside of a 60 mile radius of his childhood home regardless of the fact that he probably saw countless friends die. There's always a silver-lining to that gray cloud.

Don't let the shadow get in the way of seeing the sun.

Family Or Just Friends...The World May Never Know

Family is not only blood, it's those close knit people you grow to love and cherish regardless of the fact that you share no relation. As I've wandered throughout my life thus far, I've managed to pick up groups of friends that might as well be my siblings.
To start, I'll always have my biological family. A crazy bunch of misfits that love a combination of hunting, fishing, music, and God. After being away for school for 5 years in Michigan and finally moving back home, I've come to realize the importance of not having to introduce yourself anymore - where people just know you.
The first group of friends that came along were my high school friends. There are some that have withstood the test of time and are still those that I can call and rely on. No matter how long we go without speaking, I know I will always be their "little sis."
Next came my Adrian College family. This group of people includes professors and classmates that were there for me from Day 1 of band camp freshman year to graduation day and every day in between. These people made life bearable as I struggled through those awkward years of early adulthood.
Included within my Adrian College family, is my sorority sisters. Oh, how many tears they have wiped away, hugs that they have given, and spontaneous adventures/hall sits we have shared. These women are some of my closest friends and are given the insufficient name of 'sisters.'
Another group people I don't think I could survive without would be my friends from the time I worked as a camp counselor. We've laughed, we've cried, we've made fools of ourselves, and abandoned personal hygiene together - and somehow we survived. I moved 3 hours away to work at this camp knowing no one when I got there. It's crazy how 3 short months living with a group of people can create a bond as thick as the lake seaweed we raked every summer.
So I ventured onto grad school and surprisingly, it took me a long time to rebuild the safety net that I was accustomed to. I had lots of factors pushing against me: I was nervous and had those 'freshman nerves' all over again, I commuted everyday to school, I worked multiple part-time jobs, I had a hard time relating to the other students that came from the big cities like NYC or LA. But I found a group, it took me two semesters and one horrible agency evaluation project to bond us, but we made it. A strong group of 3 other women that were some of the best cheerleaders a friend could ask for.

And then after graduation, most of those support systems became a lot harder to maintain. 

Moving back to Ohio and in with my parents was a difficult task after being independent for the last 5 years. I no longer lived close to the people I had had supporting me for all of my young 20s. I came home and had to readjust to long distance friendships - but we made it work. And my friends and family groups I had had since the beginning had grown stronger. 

But then I got hired as a hospice social worker, which definitely threw me a curve ball. You can imagine the feelings I felt being the 'new kid on the block' at work, let along being the youngest as well as freshly graduated. But sitting in our interdisciplinary team meeting this morning, 2 months after my hire date, I found myself laughing to tears after joke after joke was said at 8:30 in the morning. During the laughter I found myself pondering on the fact that these people are simply amazing. Just the night before, my supervisor and a coworker took a few minutes at the end of their day to give me a pep talk and fix my hair before going out on a date. Another instance is a couple of coworkers have referred to me as their 'little sister,' teasing me and picking on me (all of good fun) but then also praising me and guiding me as I continue to learn my way at this new job. 

Family isn't always blood. It's sometimes the people that see you at your most vulnerable point - where you might be angry, crying, nervous, or excited - that are the closest to you and know you best. They know your ins and outs, your strengths and your weaknesses, and still chose to love you in the broadest sense of the word. I am so blessed to have a multitude of 'families' and safety nets to catch me when I fall. 

And to those of you that are reading this that fall into these families - thank you, and I love you. 

Being an Adult and the Curious Case of Compliments

Today was an interesting day. A day where my original easy agenda got blown to smithereens when multiple people started having crises at once. *Sign* the life of a social worker. But today was a little different for me, it wasn't until I was able to come home and relax until I had the realization that I can 'semi-adult' and others believe I can to!

  

It started with one coworker, she stopped me to talk to me about the calling hours she had attended for a recently deceased patient. She conveyed the compliment that the family said I was a "very nice and mature young woman" as they recalled me spending four hours with them as their father/father-in-law took his final breaths. To be a part of that precious time for their family was such an honor, and to hear their gratefulness is wonderful.

Later on in the afternoon I spent my day working on an emergency admission which meant I spent a large chuck of time working with a family and answering lots of questions about hospice services. The family was very sassy but easy-going, maybe a little too easy-going at least for the son. The son of the patient was, to be perfect honest, a shameless flirt. Complimenting how I held my pen, pointing out that I didn't have a wedding band, offering to buy me a candy bar - all of which I professionally and politely brushed off. Later on at the office, I was explaining the experience to a coworker who just flat out told me, "Well, don't be so young and pretty!" and "Just don't shower next time!" all in good humor.   

The day went on and I frantically moved from one situation to another. My work day ended at an after-hours family meeting to coordinate resources. I worked with the family, but also our chaplain and the patient's nurse who were also present. The chaplain made it a point to tell the family in front of me that "Emily is fairly new to our team, but she is amazing at gathering resources. She has this tenaciousness about her where she just dives right in and finds them." That compliment made my night. 

After work, I managed to talk to a good friend for over an hour and a half. He is a sweet gentleman and we're both social workers, which allows us to have plenty in common to talk about. Even though we started out our friendship going on 'dates' to see if we'd be compatible romantically, we quickly found out that we are polar opposites in a many areas and decided to be explicit upfront that we were only interested in friendship. The conversation was not without it's smiles, with him saying that I am pretty with a bright smile and big eyes (which means a lot to someone that struggles with body image). But the even bigger compliment he paid me was this: "You have a way of making people comfortable; you're so easy to talk to....I've told you things I haven't even told friends I've known for years!"  Such wonderful things to hear and to know! 

Compliments, flirting, and praise...oh, my! I think as humans we crave affirmation and acknowledgement that we're doing alright. I mean, I am 24 years old, there are plenty of times I have to remind myself - 'you're an adult now, you have a caseload, responsibilities, you have to know what the hell you're doing!" But in reality, I don't know what I'm doing - and quite frankly, I don't think I'll ever really feel confident in 'adulting' or what it means to be a 'true adult' (whatever that is). I ask questions all the time, I admittedly answer 'I don't know, but I can find out for you" several times a day with patients and coworkers, and I clam up sometimes when more adult-ier adults defer to me for advice. I repeatedly think to myself "I can't do this...I don't know what I'm doing!...I'm only 24!...Who the hell let me 'adult' today?!" But then I bring myself back to reality, and give myself a little pep talk: "Yes, I'm 24. Yes, this is my first job. No, I don't have all the answers but then again, no one does. They wouldn't have hired you if they didn't think I could do this job and do it well. You're going great. Keep moving forward. You got this." 

Many people think that after you graduate you got it all together, that you know where you're going in life and what you're doing; and maybe someday I'll have enough confidence to believe in my own capabilities to successfully 'adult' on a regular basis. But until then, I'll take the compliments and I'll take the praise. I'm building my self-confidence brick by brick until those self-doubts can't penetrate my being and my mind any longer. Yes, maybe I should have self confidence in myself right now, but I know I don't because I know myself so well, but I'll hopefully get there eventually.

But in the mean time, I'll give myself a little self-care and little pep talk and, in the words of the great Walt Disney: "Keep Moving Forward."     

Eating Crow - And Liking It!

"Eating Crow." An old term meaning having to eat your own words; usually an unpleasant experience. Today is Saturday in late November and that means college football games. And not just any college football games...THE college football rivalry, the OSU vs. UM game. As a little background story, I was born and raised a Buckeye in the great state of Ohio but attended and graduated with my Masters of Social Work degree from The University of Michigan. So a Buckeye by blood but a Wolverine by choice. I always try to watch both OSU and UM games on Saturdays and root for both my teams, but when it comes to the big rivalry game I put on my blue and maize (just to spite my sister who is a current OSU student) and cheer on my alma mater.
If you happened to catch the rivalry game today you know that the Buckeyes won and Michigan lost, woe is me *sarcastic eye roll*. It wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't opened my mouth at work...
A few weeks ago one of dear co-workers and an all-around amazing nurse/person and I made a bet on the OSU/UM game. We talked it up, smack talked each other (all in good fun), jabbed and jibbed as we prepared for this game. As I sat on my couch and watched my beloved Wolverines tumble to their demise, my work phone would occasionally ring that I had a text message. "Uh-oh"...*ring*..."Front or Back?" I knew what he meant. He was going to buy me OSU paraphernalia to slap on my pretty car, since that was the terms of the wager.
Today I ate crow. I got too cocky with my team and it was my predestined downfall. My co-worker will probably rub it in and brag until next years game, and will never let me live it down.
But in actuality, it doesn't really bother me. I will take all the picking, all the shenanigans, and every single "sweetheart", "honey", "cutie", and "baby" just because it means I'm loved and appreciated. I have a work family that means the world to me; a group of people that care about my well-being, who ask me 'what's wrong?' when I'm having a rough day, the ones that laugh and joke and pick on each other because we handle some of the hardest situations and human has to face. We deal with death and dying 40+ hours a week, we cling to each other simply because our experiences are unique to this field and others outside of the office will never completely understand.
So come Monday I'll take those OSU decals and stick them on my car, I'll take every jab and jib because my team lost, and I'll eat crow and like it. I'll like it because, just like siblings, my co-workers might poke fun but at the end of the day I know each and every one of them are amazing people that have my back. I seriously work with some of the most amazing people, so admitting defeat on something as simple as a football game is nothing. Because deep down, I know that if I ever had to apologize for something serious - where I have to admit I was wrong on a minor work related topic - I'd be forgiven and welcomed back with open arms. My co-workers and I see how short life is every day and see how petty it is to harbor resentment, so we chose to laugh and forgive.

Life is too short for pride. Eat the damn crow.  

I can't believe it's been 6 years

Six years ago today. That's when Heaven got another country-loving farmer for his band of angels, and that angel was my Grandpa. I've been tossing around the idea of blogging some of my life adventures as I start out on my very first job out of grad school as a hospice social worker, and for some reason today seemed like a good day to start. 
The thought solidified in my head as I visited my Grandpa's grave, I stood there in the cold evening air telling him how much I loved him and I knew he was proud of me and all the things I've done. Standing there talking to him took me back when I first interviewed for this hospice social worker position, and how my soon-to-be supervisor asked me if I had ever experienced hospice or death. Hospice, no; death, yes. I explained how my Grandpa had struggled with his disease, how it impacted my Grandma and my family, what it actually felt like to lose someone close to me, and what it meant to me to grieve. 
Standing there tonight at my Grandpa's grave I was able to finally vocalize (to him? to myself?) that the pain I experienced 6 years ago has a purpose; that purpose being though each grief is unique you cannot fully empathize with grieving families unless you know what loss is yourself. 

I promise the many posts of my adventures yet to come will not be as dark and reminiscent on my part. 

Hospice is not about fearing death. It is about celebrating life.