You can't meet Jesus with your pocketbook a'smellin

On my first morning of working for a hospice agency in rural Florida, I followed Lila, an older and experienced home health aide down a very long, unpaved and bumpy sugar sand road in my VW Jetta. About a mile down I lost the bellypan of the car ($300 +labor to fix it). We came to the home of an elderly couple who had lived in the forest area for well over sixty years. Upon entering the husband, Mr. Lee informed Lila that the patient, his wife, Miss Althea was not in a good mood and had been refusing to bathe for almost a week while Lila was on vacation. He also told Lila that the Church Study Group would be there at 10am and he did not want the Church people to "see her like this." I introduced myself to him and he shook my hand saying "you're not from around here are you?" "Well, just stand aside while Lila and I attempt to get her up and going." Miss Althea cursed at them both, spitting and punching at Lila while she tried to convince her to take a bath. Lila stood back and in a sharp tone told Miss Althea that the Church people were coming over and she needed to bathe. The patient refused and continued to fight her. "Okay with me Miss Althea, but you know you are real sick and today could be your day. You can't go meet Jesus with your pocketbook a'smellin now." Miss Althea agreed to a bath and I started to realize that my fancy social work education would not save me now.

I have decided to share my stories of patients and their deaths because I learned so much about life in the years I have worked in hospice.