In the thirteen years working as a hospice nurse I continually heard "How can you sit with someone until they die?" My family and friends always told me they couldn't do it. It would be just too hard, just too emotional. I can understand feeling that way. I believed I could handle it because I believed it was an honor to assist the patient to the next phase of life, the afterlife. Sometimes we can fool ourselves until the time comes when we have to face the truth.

The truth for me is yes it is hard at times dealing with death. The purpose of this chapter is to address the two of the hardest deaths I ever had to deal with. It does occur that nurses get attached to their patients, but that is not why these two deaths were the hardest to deal with. I believe out of the two the first one was the hardest ever for me. It was emotional for me and it took everything in me not to cry and keep my professionalism intact.

My mom passed away in December 2013. I took the 32 hours the company gives for situations of family passing. On my first day back to work I am with a patient, I will call her Mary. She was just barely in her 50s and she had a teenage son. Her husband son, and mother-in-law never left her side. When families do this it always tugs on my heartstrings. I could tell she was in the final stages of the end of life and would be passing soon. This is where taking care of this lady started to become emotionally hard for me.

She passed around two I think. The time doesn't matter in this experience, it was the passing itself that was hard. After just losing my mom a little more than a week before, this lady was leaving behind a 14-year-old kid, and realizing this boy would not have his mom around anymore was like a blow to my heart. The husband and the mother-in-law wanted to help wash and dress her for the funeral home transportation. It's not recommended that the family participate in this unless it is part of their culture or religion, but I let them prepare her for transport.

The husband and mother-in-law were so gentle with her and spoke with her as they were bathing her. I just helped with turning and holding the patient in certain positions to bathe and dress. I felt like I was looking at myself getting a patient ready for transport to the funeral home because I do the same thing with my patients. I talk to them as I bathe and dress them for transport, and always gentle. They are still human even if it's just their body.

I could feel the emotions coming on and no matter how hard I tried not to cry I did. The husband was asking me if I was okay and if he could do something for me. It's supposed to be me saying that to the family, not the other way around. The husband helped transport get her on the stretcher and into the transport van. I didn't know what to do at this point. Even now years later as I am writing this the emotions are coming back. When the patient left in the transport van I gave my condolences to the family and got into my car. The husband once again asked me if I was alright. I told him I was fine, but I wasn't. Once in my car I drove down the street and stopped to take a deep breath. Instead, I started crying. I still don't know if I was crying for the loss of my mother or for the kid who lost his.

The next death that was hard for me was the last patient that passed away on me. It wasn't like the boy who lost his mother or anything like that. It was just a normal passing away. The only difference was it was also my very last patient and my very last day as a hospice nurse. I could no longer work as a hospice nurse, because of a workers' compensation lawsuit. I had a torn rotator cuff in my left shoulder and carpal tunnel in my left hand. These injuries are from working as a hospice nurse. The turning and moving of heavy patients alone over time caused the injuries. In addition, for the last 3 years of working as a hospice nurse, I was being treated for degenerative osteoarthritis.

It was getting harder and harder to do my job. The rotator cuff and carpal tunnel can be fixed by surgery. Unfortunately, my doctor said even with the surgery I couldn't do my job anymore. Thirteen years and forty-three days and I am no longer a hospice nurse. The patient who passed away was symbolic to me. He has transitioned to the next phase or the other side, and I have transitioned to another phase of life or the other side being the patient.