Rest in Peace, RIP

A philosophical rant by a shallow mind trying to dig deeper into life issues, to grow in knowledge and understanding, and express my opinion.

By Carolyn Roberson - Tuesday 30 Aug 2011

The loss of a family member or friend is, more often than not, a traumatic, and sometimes, life changing event. How we deal with that loss is uniquely individual. Over and over we see “RIP” or “May you Rest in Peace” posted on Facebook accounts, or on online condolence pages. But what is it to rest in peace?

Merriam Webster has six definitions for the word rest. Initially, one would think rest would mean to cease from labor, which is a correct definition. Other definitions are to lay in a state of death, and a cessation of bodily function. However, for this article it means peace of mind or peace of the spirit.

According to Judeo-Christian beliefs, upon death, the soul is either transported to heaven or hell depending on the acceptance of atonement provided by Jesus Christ, God’s Son, and designated Savior of mankind. Islam adheres to a similar heaven/hell belief. Buddhist and Hindu doctrine recycles life until all desire is abolished, and a state of nirvana is achieved at which point the soul fades into nothingness. Then, there are atheists, and agnostics. A theologian, I am not: I’m just someone who likes to think.

Based on the definition of rest coupled with various beliefs, there isn’t much resting in life after death. Should you choose to be a resident of eternal flames, and damnation, there will NOT be any resting at all, just utter torment for all of eternity. If your soul fades into nothingness, there will be no resting because there is nothing to rest. Recycling life by becoming another will only give you another life to live with problems, trials, and temptations; perhaps even in a location far worse than were you were in a previous lifetime. However, should you choose to follow the narrow path to heaven, there will be rest for the soul.

So, the next time you want to RIP someone, think about how shallow it is, and actually think of something to express a sincere condolence, as if my opinion really matters.

Hospice Care

A personal flashback to hospice care and the support experienced by our family during the loss our mother, our best friend.

By Carolyn Roberson - Friday 02 Sep 2011

In 2005, my mother slid into the floor at church during the Maundy Thursday service. One would recognize this as unusual right off; however, my mother, having grown up in a Holiness church, had very unique worship practices. My sister, who was with her, thought maybe she was having some kind of spiritual experience until she realized she had passed out.

After arriving at the hospital via ambulance, totally petrified at having disrupted the solemn service at church, mother was back to her usual eccentric self. Apologizing to the preacher when he visited, he assured her it was fine, and everyone understood it was a medical emergency. She felt only slightly better for the disruption.

Diagnosed with Autoimmune Hepatitis, mother was given the news that she had about 24 months to live, and was not a candidate for a liver transplant due to various health issues, and age. She immediately heard terminal, and sat down to die. It was very difficult watching this woman who road a sea doo and snowmobiles, who could run your socks off, work circles around you, and was just a social butterfly become disinterested in life. She turned inward, and her outgoing personality was missed.

Doctors visits were almost daily, and even on the best days, she was tired all the time. One of the last Sundays she attended church left her in the bushes and rolling down the little inclined sidewalk into the street where a car stopped short of hitting her because of a missed step. Much to her dismay, the day she turned in her driver’s license, and got a non-driver I.D. was an emotionally traumatic time for her.

Because her two Blue Cross/Blue Shield policies and her Medicare failed to pay for the prescription of oxygen from the doctor, her home health doctor mentioned that a hospice would pay for oxygen, and provide help to the family with drug administration, and basic personal care. We tried to reassure her that, although she was terminal, hospice intervention was just a route to go for less expense with her medications and such. She didn’t buy it, and it made her quit all together.

Hospice care, once the right people were in place, became a lifesaver, not only for the family, but also for mother. She could interact with someone new, whereas conversations became routine and boring with just the family members. Although it was a health care visit, Miss Butterfly used it as a time for socialization.

At the end, hospice care became a support system for the family members, aiding us in coping with the upcoming loss. The elderly night nurse was grandmotherly, and emotionally supported each of us as we were coming to the point of encouraging mother to let go, and where we could say goodbye. Each nurse was as interactive as we needed, or quiet during our moments of silence; instinctually interactive as each of the family members were experiencing different emotions at different times.

Hospice nursing isn’t for everyone: I am sure of that. It takes someone truly special to accomplish all that they did for our dying mother, and each member of our family. To be there at the time life leaves the body at death is as special as being there for the birth of new life. I will always be thankful to Vitas Hospice Care, San Antonio, Texas.