Death Is For The Birds
He was remarkably stubborn refusing his children's wishes that hospice get involved, inspite of not wanting any treatment. There was none, so why make himself spend his final days with his head buried in a toilet he was quoted as saying. Dad had always been pretty direct with his words. Immediately we asked him whether he wanted to pass at home. "Of course I do" was his answer. I want to be at home".
Well Dad what if you can't care for yourself, won't you need help? If I can't care for myself then just put me in the hospital, was his quick response. Isn't that a contradiction, I wondered, but stayed mum.
We pleaded with him, to at least meet with hospice, to hear what they had to say. He agreed. Reluctantly he met with the hospice worker and while resistant at first, he began to see the benefits of having hospice with him. At least that's what I heard, I wasn't there for that initial meeting.
I was there when they tried to arrive for the second meeting. Dad had discovered some tea which alleged to help cancer and he wanted to try it. The essiac tea required travel to an herb farm, nearly an hour away. The problem was that hospice was scheduled to visit when we set to travel. He became angry with them. I don't want those people to come here. I am supposed to now wait around for hospice to arrive. I begged and pleaded with him to allow hospice to visit and he refused.
Hospice is patient driven and so if he didn't want hospice they wouldn't show up. They needed him to sign a form releasing them from providing services.
Two weeks later a letter arrived in the mail. As he walked from his mailbox, he said "Oh I forgot, I have to answer the bird people" The bird people I asked, who are the bird people? The bird people he responded, I must answer the darn bird people, he said with some irritation. I couldn't imagine who the bird people were. Was the audobon society writing him requesting money? He was a man with no financial assets so that seemed absurd.
While paintings of birds filled his small well decorated apartment, he made it clear he didn't want "those bird people around". As he set the letter down, I looked over on the table where the letter lie. "oh the bird people are hospice workers" I said. Why do you call them the bird people Dad, I asked? There logo is the bird, he responded. Sure enough the logo of hospice was a dove. I hadn't ever taken time to notice that before.
He took offense to the letter. It wasn't the birds, it was the last sentence that said " due to your seeking services elsewhere, we will be discontinuing services". Seeking services elsewhere he grumbled, that's not true. I am not seeking any services. I am not seeking services elsewhere. He found the letter offensive.
The days came and went and each day he struggled to live. He drank his tea although he admitted he didn't really believe it would work. He said it helped his stomach feel better. He played bingo and he played poker and sometimes he fell asleep during the games. He tried to eat. He laughed and he cried but he never asked why me. He had always said when your time is up, it's up. That is that, were words he began to use frequently.
One week before he passed, hospice arrived, reinstated by his primary care physician. He said they were there because he had no choice. His liver had gone into total failure and he was too weak to walk. He insisted that he get no help from them, but conceeded to their assistance.
The last day of his life they were there. They put a catheter in him. Hours before he passed a red bird flew up to the living room window and sat in a tree looking in. I heard that the Indians believed that when a red tipped herring flew nearby an important message was to arrive. It did. Dad died about an hour after the bird showed up.
On the day of his burial, a bird flew into my home. This had not ever occurred before. It was a baby bird and it was in my bathroom. A room with no open windows. I couldn't explain it and didn't know what to do about it. I opened the bedroom door which led to the outside and hoped it would fly outside. It did.
I had to wonder about the birds and the meaning of birds. Birds are symbols of freedom. They move quickly from place to place. They are spiritual symbols in many settings. Indians view them as messages. Hospice uses them as their logo. Dad filled his home with images of birds. They showed up in my home on the day of burial. Birds are symbols of hope and freedom. They aren't meant to be held captive in a cage.
They guide us in our journeys toward freedom and are symbols for the soul. I hope Dad is free like the birds in the sky.He wasn't ready for the meeting with the "bird people", he wasn't ready to fly away until he was ready, but when the bird people showed up, he accepted them. He became free.
Related Tags: birds, hope, death, resistance, freedom
Tammy Stoner is a licensed clinical social worker. She has created a toolkit applying teddybears that helps people process death and dying issues. She operates a website called www.interactiveteddybears.com
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