My First Time

We all remember our “First”. First love. First Kiss. First Friend. First Heartache. As a hospice nurse, we also dread one thing, our first death experience. Mine was way before I knew opening a hospice was my calling. I was still a student doing clinical rotations at one of Los Angeles’s largest hospital and was given the assignment of a 56-year-old male patient who was suffering from alcoholic cirrhosis. He was to be my patient for the entire 2 weeks I was on that floor.

I remember my first encounter with J.S. He was tall, slender, with a long beard; his jaundice and ascites were extreme, and he had already stopped eating a few days prior. His room was dark and cold, and I was already warned he never has had visitors or family call to check on him. He simply was alone. On the day we first met, he was still awake. I tried so hard to engage with him, but he wasn’t interested. I even tried some of my best humor tactics, but he didn’t care. My entire visit was sitting in his room, doing some essential necessities my teacher assigned. It was the longest day I could remember.

By the next morning, when I arrived, I was given a report the patient had fallen into a comatose stage and was expected to pass by week’s end. Immediately I could feel my heart rate rise and anxiety overtook my thoughts. How will he die? What do I need to? Out of sheer panic, I started immediately hoping “it wouldn’t happen during my shift” What I didn’t know at the time was that I was about to experience something that would change my life forever. The moment I entered his room, it was clear to me even though I had no experience before, that this J.S. was actively dying. His breathing was deep and long, and the “death rattle” I always read about, I could hear loud and clear. I remember going back to tell his nurse and to see if there was anyone, we could call to be with him. But there was no one. I then decided I needed to make his end of life experience a meaningful one. I took my chair, put it beside his bed, and took his hand into mine. I just wanted him to feel comfortable. I could only imagine that dying alone must have been a scary process. I held his hand and after about 30 minutes, I whispered “it’s ok you do not need to be afraid, you can go”. Within 3-5 minutes of that, I heard him take his final long breath. I never experienced death before, but it’s as if I could feel his soul leave his body. I knew without checking his vital signs that he passed. I simply was left with a human body, but J.S. was no longer there. My heart was racing, my hands were shaking, and the tears immediately overflowed down my face. I knew this man for 2 days but somehow my heart was broken for him.

I will never forget that day. It has been now over 15 years since I said good-bye to Mr. J.S. He may have not wanted to speak to me, but he taught me what a meaningful experience death can be and how valuable a role I could play for someone in their death and dying stage. I have tried to bring this experience into my life every day since then, and especially as the Director for True Care Hospice.