The Hospice

On Wednesday, Matt and I spent the night with Bob at Orange Grove Hospice.
Bob snored.
Thursday, the hospice volunteer came to give him a bath.
She tenderly washed him. Her hands were loving and gentle.
She called him, sweetheart.
He was so thin. His face gaunt and gray.
He reminded me of the body of Christ.
The hospice nurse listened very closely to his heart through her stethoscope.
I remember her laying her hands on his legs and on his feet.
I remember she lifted his lids and looked into his eyes.
They did not dilate.
I stood – staring-waiting for her to tell me.
Was he in a coma?
This was the question of the morning.
She pinched his neck. He did not respond.
She nodded.
I nodded.
“How long?” I asked.
“He’s close.”
“How close? Days? Weeks? Hours?” I’d never seen death before.
“Hours” she said.
Oh my God, I thought. What should I do?
“What should I do?” I asked.
“Call your family.”
(Aria - A Sister's Journey With AIDS continued in next post - The Vigil)