I have been thinking to write about this, but haven't really got the time for it. I work in a forensic mental health ward (as most of you would know by now), had never thought I'd have to face that - we have a patient that passed away last weekend.
Perhaps it's not right to say that I never knew I'd have to face this, because when he was sent to our ward he was already terminally ill. We spent a lot of time making sure he was okay. And this is a man with great sense of humour, I mean - a nice companion. Guess what, maybe it was such a coincidence, I blogged about him before, back then he was so, so unwell that I had to share my experience with him (Blog post: I want sex!!). Oh yes, he was the one who first saw me, told me "I want sex! I want sex", he was also the man who didn't use the toilet and slipped on his own poo in the seclusion room.
If you still remember, he was sent to highest security in the country because we couldn't have him there. He was then diagnosed with cancer and deteriorated. Staff there decided that they couldn't keep terminally ill patient in such high security, so they sent him back to us.
This man only saw me once a week, sometimes once in a fortnight, but he never forgot my name. On my first shift with him, he directly commented that I must be very hardworking at the end of the day when I went to sit by his bed. Slowly he deteriorated on our ward, up to a point he was so ill that they had to send him to A&E, and was then transferred to CDU (Clinical Decision Unit). I went there for about 8 hours last weekend. I met his twin brothers and had quite a long conversation (or according to him, it was more like one of the brothers "lecturing" me. hahaha). I walked him to the bathroom, and I gave him my right arm telling him this was his walking stick, he then hold my arm and dance, while humming a song that I didn't know. Of course he couldn't even walk properly, leave alone dancing.
But it was beautiful. I came to realize I brought this man laughters. Despite all the pains he was in, he was always positive. At times I found that too positive. I have to say this is the kind of experience I probably wouldn't forget. Unfortunately the rapport was built, then we lost him.
I didn't think about it at all when I was told the news that afternoon after he left. It was a "noisy" shift with some nice staff, nobody really mentioned it, I didn't think about it either. But that night I couldn't sleep, I thought about him and my tears dropped. I suppose it wasn't sadness, at least he is now no longer in pain.
In fact he is a "legend". I wish someone can study him in depth. Because back then he was so, so ill, so unwell mentally. But the physical health problem "took over". Don't ask me how this can happen. Nobody knows. We all wonder. Because most of us met a version of him that was so crazy so mad so unwell so... you name it. But we all met this "version" of him who's so grateful, so positive, so friendly. He was always grateful, with the time with we spent with him, with the help we offered him.
On my last shift with him, he was in the bathroom when a member of staff came to take over me. I insisted to wait till he came out so that I could tell him I had to go and a goodbye (no, in fact I always say "see you later" rather than "bye"). With him you never knew when it would be the last time you can see him. I'm glad I waited, because that was indeed the last good bye.
Rest in peace.
"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around."
- Leo Buscaglia
Perhaps it's not right to say that I never knew I'd have to face this, because when he was sent to our ward he was already terminally ill. We spent a lot of time making sure he was okay. And this is a man with great sense of humour, I mean - a nice companion. Guess what, maybe it was such a coincidence, I blogged about him before, back then he was so, so unwell that I had to share my experience with him (Blog post: I want sex!!). Oh yes, he was the one who first saw me, told me "I want sex! I want sex", he was also the man who didn't use the toilet and slipped on his own poo in the seclusion room.
If you still remember, he was sent to highest security in the country because we couldn't have him there. He was then diagnosed with cancer and deteriorated. Staff there decided that they couldn't keep terminally ill patient in such high security, so they sent him back to us.
This man only saw me once a week, sometimes once in a fortnight, but he never forgot my name. On my first shift with him, he directly commented that I must be very hardworking at the end of the day when I went to sit by his bed. Slowly he deteriorated on our ward, up to a point he was so ill that they had to send him to A&E, and was then transferred to CDU (Clinical Decision Unit). I went there for about 8 hours last weekend. I met his twin brothers and had quite a long conversation (or according to him, it was more like one of the brothers "lecturing" me. hahaha). I walked him to the bathroom, and I gave him my right arm telling him this was his walking stick, he then hold my arm and dance, while humming a song that I didn't know. Of course he couldn't even walk properly, leave alone dancing.
But it was beautiful. I came to realize I brought this man laughters. Despite all the pains he was in, he was always positive. At times I found that too positive. I have to say this is the kind of experience I probably wouldn't forget. Unfortunately the rapport was built, then we lost him.
I didn't think about it at all when I was told the news that afternoon after he left. It was a "noisy" shift with some nice staff, nobody really mentioned it, I didn't think about it either. But that night I couldn't sleep, I thought about him and my tears dropped. I suppose it wasn't sadness, at least he is now no longer in pain.
In fact he is a "legend". I wish someone can study him in depth. Because back then he was so, so ill, so unwell mentally. But the physical health problem "took over". Don't ask me how this can happen. Nobody knows. We all wonder. Because most of us met a version of him that was so crazy so mad so unwell so... you name it. But we all met this "version" of him who's so grateful, so positive, so friendly. He was always grateful, with the time with we spent with him, with the help we offered him.
On my last shift with him, he was in the bathroom when a member of staff came to take over me. I insisted to wait till he came out so that I could tell him I had to go and a goodbye (no, in fact I always say "see you later" rather than "bye"). With him you never knew when it would be the last time you can see him. I'm glad I waited, because that was indeed the last good bye.
Rest in peace.
"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around."
- Leo Buscaglia
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