Laurel Anderson came promptly on July 14 and we climbed the stairs to Laurie's hide-a-way. There were many questions; if a contract was signed, could the patient refuse food. . . would the "Concern for the Dying" contract be respected in that no artificial means would be used to keep the patient alive… would medication for pain be of the type that would not sustain life. . . all of these must be answered before Laurie would want to consider signing a contract with Hospice. In the conversation, answers were given, but always with one addition; it would be hoped that the patient could return to her home. HOPE was no longer a part of Laurie's vocabulary. Just a few short weeks ago, it had been there. She had not been wearing earrings for some time, and noticed that one of the openings had begun to close. She had asked for my assistance in piercing it again. Now she wanted an end to her existence. There was not one position in which she could be comfortable; her desire was to find comfort in the hospital bed's maneuverability.
Satisfied that her wishes could be fulfilled, Laurie signed the contract. Her remaining fear was that Laurel Anderson and the hospital staff would think her a wimp!
July 14, 1986… (her last entry)… I made the decision today… I am going into Hospice. No more fun… no more nuthin'
The ambulance service came at two o'clock. Through all of this ordeal it was a comfort to have Sharon, Laurie's older sister, with us. The two young men who brought Laurie downstairs were cheerful and so very careful. The stretcher had been fashioned into a chair position because of the limited space going down the steps. Upon arriving outside, they positioned her so that she could remain seated, but with legs extended. Not having been outside since December, and not being able to walk the distance to a window for many weeks, Laurie was fascinated by the beauty of the warm summer day.
As I rode in the front with the driver he noted an unusual odor and both men were quite concerned. It was decided they not turn on the siren and proceed at a faster pace because Sharon and Dad were following in the family car; they didn't want to cause further trauma! The ambulance made it to the hospital; it was found to be in need of a "mechanical doctor," but it had fulfilled its mission.
The room was done in vivid color, not of the old vintage beige. As Laurie was helped into bed, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror; she had not visibly known how she looked for some time. It caused both disbelief and pain. Now came the true test. She was manipulated into several positions; none seemed to help. As the nurse left the room, Laurie finally gave vent to tears. During all of this, she had been a true soldier. It was too much! She now felt she had made a big mistake! Could we bring her back home? It was so little to ask, and yet we knew we could not immediately ask to have her returned. The hospital staff was in transition; the next shift was coming in. This alone added to the confusion, but it also brought help. A veteran of Hospice entered; with a multitude of pillows, plus more manipulating, she was able to bring the comfort Laurie had longed for!
Later in the evening, that same veteran came in to talk and to advise Laurie that it would be best to accept liquids rather than no nourishment at all. We asked concerning the Lazy Boy and the porta-pot from home. Both would add to her comfort. Sharon had left for Dubuque before knowing that "bed comfort" had come to her sister, so I called her as soon as I knew she was in her home. It was very difficult to leave the hospital that night, but I had grown so tired over the past weeks; I selfishly did go home.
Les and Dad placed the Lazy Boy in close proximity to Laurie's bed. It was a welcome change. The staff informed me that Laurie had talked most of the night. She had been given a bath in a portable tub; quite a contraption! I had brought several photo albums as well as photo files and a lovely volunteer was seated by Laurie as I left for my 11:00 appointment with the dentist.
After lunch, Laurie remarked that a tray had been brought with eggs and bacon, a roll and fruit, but she had refused it. It had looked so tempting, but she was determined to follow her own plan. The day passed uneventfully. That evening her cousin, Gary, stopped by for a visit. Upon his leaving, she kidded with him. Later, I went to another section of the hospital to fulfill her desire for frozen bar-type fruit juice. Dad and I left around 11:30.
July 16. . . Laurie was seated in the Lazy Boy when we arrived. Her breakfast tray had her requested liquid diet, untouched. I wanted to help her but she felt too nauseous. She wanted to sit on the edge of the bed. We sat together for over twelve minutes; I, with my arm around her back to brace her, she with her head leaning against mine. She asked if I would help with just a sponge bath this time. We had agreed. The nurse entered and wanted to begin preparing for her bath. Laurie just shook her head and said that she felt too sick. She asked to be seated in her chair; the nurse declined that wish. She wanted to have Laurie lie down. We used the draw sheet and Dad and I lifted her as far to the head of the bed as was possible. She asked to be raised to a sitting position. Each time we pushed the controls she indicated she wanted it higher. As she reached the highest level she looked at Dad and me and said, "Hey, you guys, I'm going!" Seconds later she was gone. It was what she wanted! It was finally over!