The Art of Dying; The last hoorah

I received a text after my appointment just as I had just gotten home to make a sand-which and relax. “She is not doing well, everyone is gathered, I think this is the end” my friend said. I contemplated whether or not I should eat first since I hadn’t all day, but came to the quick conclusion that if in the time it took me to make and eat lunch my old patient who had very quickly become a great light in my life had passed during that time I would regret it so very much. I put all my sand-which makings in the fridge and left the house as quickly as possible. There was a knot in my throat and this time it wasn’t my enlarged tonsil that I had found out that very day would need to be removed within the next few weeks. This knot was a forced attempt to fight back tears. I had to be strong, emotional was not something I could be during this time. 

I walked in the room and 5 people were gathered as they watch their loved one struggle to breath in and out. Here and there one or all of us would say “I love you Gina” and she would respond “awe, I love you all too”. I grabbed hold of her warm hand and did what I do with any patient that is rounding 3^rd base to the end of their life, checking her pulse and feeling her heartbeat which were both strong. I stroked one hand while holding the other. Here and there I could feel her give me a good squeeze as she would tell me “I love you baby” in which I would respond “I love you too, you will never be forgotten. It’s okay to go, you don’t need to fight so hard. God has you and He is ready to make you an angel. I will be okay, but I know that because I hold you in my heart you will always be with me.” Another woman stroked her arm and sang to her while tears ran down her face. I did my best to comfort all those around me, I was in a place in which I knew of the afterlife journey and how much greater it would be than the one Gina was in now of suffering which brought me a peace that these friends of hers were not quite capable of understanding in this moment. We were all in different places in our grieving, no one is right and no one is wrong. Every once in a while, I would lean in to give her a kiss on her cheek and hear her say “oh I love you baby, you are so good to me.” I will never ever forget those words.

Just when we thought she was done she opened her eyes and a part of me thought it was some miracle, but the aide in me knew this was just the last hoorah. She somehow got a surge of energy, enough to tell me “No! I don’t want the bed pan, I want to go to the bathroom”. So, with oxygen in toe and an aide and I on either side we did just as she wished. She went to the restroom while holding onto me. She was in so much pain and I was more willing to allow her to hold onto me while she went to the restroom and ignore the smell, than to leave her there on the toilet. I feel so blessed to have been able to take care of her one last time. I enjoy every part of my job although on this day it was just out of pure love for a woman I have come to care so deeply for. I took her back to bed and she was up talking to her friends so I figured that I should go with the plan to come back in the morning while also being aware that this miraculous turn of events could easily have been the last of her energy. I told her I loved her, and heard it back and to me that is the greatest gift and memory I could be left with.

At 10:45 God made her angel. That same night she went from yelling at the nurse, insisting on using the bathroom and being super talkative to leaving this world to move on to another. One of peace, comfort, love, pain free and the ability to do all that she couldn’t since she had been diagnosed with cancer. I remember telling her earlier as she lay frail in the bed “I cannot go with you, it’s not my time, but I pray that when I close my eyes, I will see you in my dreams.” It’s only been a couple of days. I have had my meltdowns and been there for my boyfriend as he has had his. I’m doing my best to be patient and wait for her to join me in my subconscious. She will do it in her own time, just as she had done everything else in her life.  The very last thing I did for her was a dance to a Cover of Time after Time by Javier Colone. I felt it best described our relationship as the lyrics say “if your lost and you look then you will find me, time after time, if you fall I will catch you I’ll be waiting, Time after time.” Because as a care giver and her favorite aide she was always looking for me and the fact she was unsteady on her feet I was always there to catch her and now that she is in heaven I can’t help but expect she would do the same for me. “Suitcase of memories almost left behind, time after time.” May you rest in peace Gina and always remember how much of an impact you have made on so many people’s lives including mine. I will be waiting for your visit. May you rest peacefully in the arms of the angels as you have now gained your wings, they shall teach you how to fly. Love always,

Kim Edwards

https://youtu.be/BQ997v5lhoY

DID i do that; living with disasociative identity disorder

“I was sitting, there sellin, turnips on a flatbed truck Crunchin on a pork rind when she pulled up she had to be thinkin this is where rednecks come from” I was singing to Billy Currington’s “Good Directions” when my friend looked at me and asked “what do you call a black girl that sings country music?” I looked at her with a keen seriousness on my face and without hesitation replied “an identity crisis”. The two of us chuckled so hard we just bout fell out our seats. It was a funny joke at the time and even to this day I look back at that moment and laugh, but I also take my reply much more seriously for reasons I shall tell you now. Well, all of us shall explain because it’s not just my story but every identity that lives within me has a mind of her own.

Back in October a girl, the age of 27 was raped by a man she knew quite well. And while she had been in this predicament a few times in the past she lay still and frail as tear drops fell from her eyes making the Christmas lights in her room blurry. For once though she did not remain that way and I’m sure you are wondering why? Well, because of me. My name is Jordan, I am an extension of Kim, an alternate personality. One of 4, but the most outspoken, loud, obnoxious, courageous, funniest of them all or at least I would like to think so. I am also more assertive and at times aggressive and seeking vengeance on those who mess with any of the other personalities I live with. I pretty much took over Kim’s mind and body during that night. I wanted her to have a chance to win this fight and even if she lost, which she did, she is still able to reminisce on the fact that she did indeed (because of me) put up a hell of a fight. What happened that night that she was raped was what is known as a split in personalities. But as the days went by and Kim became less capable of discussing the event, I, Jordan, had to find a way to be more present in her life. Sometimes people tell me I am mean to Kim and I guess if I was to be honest I’d say well the things I say aren’t always the kindest, but if she had let me do my job that night and stopped freezing then maybe she would not have been raped. I blame her yes, for the parts she played as they are crucial to the story. She started what happened that night and I had to finish it. I try my best not to allow Kim to freeze up again as she remains traumatized to this day, but sometimes the only way to make her feel something other than the psychosomatic aching in her vaginal area is to simply cut her. Although there have been times when she was so far gone and my energy level had come to a screeching halt that I just bout had enough and told her to jump off the roof or take all her pills, but there was this little voice one day that came out of no- where and said “Jordon leave her alone, let’s compromise. Kim may sit on the roof, but she will not jump.” Well then, guess I am not the only one here besides Kim. She introduced herself to me as Kaylie. She, Kim and I are all the same age. I do my best to protect Kim, but don’t always succeed. Kaylie on the other hand is what they refer to in Psychology class as the “ego” she is level headed. She both feels emotions, but not too deeply and can also hold a conversation. She is not aggressive or assertive, she basically is just a mediator and more likely than not will be the one that helps all of us work our way through the events that occurred on that cold night in October in a room that once was Kim’s safe place.

According to the DSM, disasociative identity disorder once known as multiple personality disorder has certain criteria that one must meet. Now at the beginning amnesia (one of the criteria) was not something that fit what was happening in Kim’s life or mine or Kaylie’s or even the toddler Kim whom I have not mentioned until just now. She is about 5 years old. Her affect is one of a 3-year-old sometimes as she drinks from a sippy cup and sucks on a pacifier, but mainly she just likes to be held. Kim did not receive much affection as a child growing up and this split in personality has almost been a blessing in disguise, allowing her the chance to get what she needs from people who truly understand this disorder. Now back to the amnesia, we didn’t have that at first, but now as days go by I find I forget what I did all day or where certain things are in my house. I don’t always remember the actions I have taken against myself or things I have said to others.

Well now that I have told you about my many different personalities and I promise I couldn’t make this up as there is a remarkable difference between each identity. The hard part though is telling those I love of this disorder without them either thinking I am malingering or can simply just be “normal” whatever the fuck that means! There are a few people that I trust who know, but for the greater part of my social interactions with people I choose not to tell them, but then again, they are in for a big surprise if my identities switch in midst of conversation. Now that would be a show to watch!! Oh, wait they did that already. Gosh damn it! Anyway, I am so in the mood for some trap rap radio, too bad I’m working. In my head, I’m singing “first let me hop out the motha fucking porsh” hahahahaha.

https://youtu.be/aP4WD5iGtJQ

The art of Dying part 2; A personal experience

As I sit here holding onto her smooth hand as she groans, gasping for each breath that I am so grateful to have come so easily, I fight back tears and remind myself as some may say she is dying, her and I have the same undying faith that this is not the end, but a new beginning, a new path, a journey she is creating for herself that I only pray to one day join her on when it comes to be my time. One without pain, suffering, a destiny in which only peace, love and kindness are found. Not because of desire but simply because we are children of a God who wants to continue loving us unconditionally. She is a fighter and I pray that she doesn’t fight destiny in fear of giving up, but unlike any other hospice patient I struggle to give her permission to collect her wings and fly. I love her, she is a beautiful woman inside and out, an observation I have come to make in only a few short months of knowing her. When she wasn’t so ill I dealt with a sassy woman whom was unfiltered like I, one whom most staff couldn’t get to follow the rules for she did not go the direction of the wind but created her own somewhat like Pochohauntas. A strong- willed woman with the best intentions which were often misinterpreted. She was filled with so much anxiety that people around her were unable to comprehend that she had and was trying to offer something. I assume it would be wisdom, pain, and what it was like to be in her shoes. I tucked her into bed for many months and still do. And despite that damn word that did not keep me from getting too close and crossing boundaries I long ago told her that I loved her. I visit her often just to ensure she is not alone and that she knows she is cared for. I have to pee so bad, but today is not one of her better days so I refuse to get up in fear that I may miss out on the opportunity of watching her receive her wings. I feel it and see it. The woman I have come to care so deeply for is taking shallow breaths that could lead to somewhere I cannot yet follow, while also, it could be as I said before just a bad day. But one day whether it is today or tomorrow or sometime in the next couple weeks I will have to accept, process and then celebrate the amazing truth that another angel has been born.

I may not be able to take away the pain

But I'll sing you a song to comfort

One of the love and joy you bring

To my heart when I need it or just want it

I will count your breaths both in and out

And be thankful they still exist

And that is reason one, of many

That make me feel so blessed

I may shed a tear of pain

Although I always promised I'd be strong

But I'm learning that part of strength

Is knowing when tears belong

They belong in my eyes, my head on your chest

As long as you are breathing

Knowing I love you until the day

You tell me you are leaving

June,15,2017

Always enjoy providing peace and reminding those who are close to leaving us that they are loved and that with each breath they are touching my heart in many ways 💞

©Kimberly Edwards