“Who Am I?
Loren Hardin
The Ashland Beacon
Deborah was fifty-three years old when she enrolled in our outpatient hospice service with end stage breast cancer. She was one of the most complex and challenging people I’ve worked with. She was intelligent, perceptive, and outspoken. Deborah was passionate about her Christian faith, but also tormented by chronic mental illness, the type which sometimes drives a person across the line dividing spirituality from obsession, as described in the book: “Manic Depression and the Artistic Temperament: Touched by Fire”. Deborah’s life was definitely “touched by fire” as evidenced by scorched relationships.
Deborah sold most of her possessions in Southern California and moved in with her daughter, son-in-law and three small grandchildren in southern Ohio. They considered it their last chance to reconcile. Deborah confided, “My final prayer is that my daughter and I can forgive each other.” But the friction of differing lifestyles and the stress of cramped quarters proved too much. Besides, you usually can’t just sweep years of hurt and anger under the rug and go on. About six weeks into the move things exploded and I found myself standing on the lawn of her daughter’s apartment complex with the staffs of two emergency squads and the county sheriff brainstorming options. Deborah was agitated, probably manic, and was frantically moving her possessions from her daughter’s apartment into a neighbor’s apartment, as her daughter stood by sobbing.
I presented Deborah’s options to her; be admitted to our hospice inpatient center, be taken against her will to the hospital emergency room for a psychiatric evaluation or be taken directly to jail as threatened by the Sheriff. So, Deborah angrily threw some of her possessions into the back of my car, tossed her miniature poodle into the back of the ambulance and climbed in.
Mike, our inpatient social worker, helped Deborah find an apartment, the hospice inpatient staff collected donated furniture and appliances, had her utilities connected and physically moved her in. We also bought groceries and staples until Deborah received her Social Security check. Surprisingly Deborah agreed to my staying on as her outpatient social worker.
A couple weeks after the move, I was helping Deborah complete a Medicaid application when she insinuated, “Some of the things I put in your car didn’t show up at the inpatient center the day you forced me to go there.” We stopped right then and there for an honest and direct conversation about trust. Deborah admitted, “I have trust issues” and added, “Why should I trust you?” So, I gave Deborah the option of changing Social Workers, but she declined.
Deborah realized her time was limited so she asked for my help in preparing for her departure. She executed her last will and testament and signed consent for cremation. She gave me the names of family and friends she wanted me to contact upon her death. She told me, “My favorite song is ‘Who Am I?’ and I want it to be my final testimony to my family and friends. I want it to be my only obituary. I want people to see God, not me. It’s not about me.” I printed several copies of the lyrics of the song and Deborah mailed them to her family and friends.
When Deborah was admitted to the hospice center for imminent death, I challenged her to allow me to call her daughter, Sarah, who she hadn’t seen or talked with for several weeks. Deborah agreed and when I called Sarah, she asked, “Will you ask mom if I can come and stay a few nights with her”. When I asked, Deborah cried, “Would she do that for me?” Deborah concluded, “Maybe my prayer is coming true after all.”
About a month after Deborah’s death Sarah reflected, “I was sleeping beside mom’s bed at the hospice center, and I held her hand all night. I was dreaming that mom was holding my face in her hands and telling me ‘Sarah, I really love you’. And suddenly I woke up as mom took her last breath. I was by her side.”
In retrospect I’m so glad Deborah didn’t accept my offer to change social workers; because during the last few weeks of her life, we explored the basis of her “trust issues” and engaged in candid conversations about “judging” and “acceptance”. We experienced true personal encounter by which we were both forever changed. And a couple of days before Deborah died, she hugged me, smiled, and said, “We worked through those trust issues, didn’t we?”
So, in conclusion, I’m leaving you with Deborah’s “final testimony”, her, “only obituary”. It’s the fulfillment of my promise to Deborah to “write a column about it”. “Who am I that the Lord of all the earth would care to know my name, would care to feel my hurt? Who am I, that the Bright and Morning Star would choose to light the way for my ever-wandering heart?... And You told me who I am, I am Yours… Who am I that the eyes that see my sin would look on me with love and watch me rise again? Who am I, that the voice that calmed the sea would call out through the rain and calm the storm in me. I am Yours...Not because of who I am, but because of what You’ve done. Not because of what I’ve done, but because of who you are.” (“Who am I”, by Casting Crowns)
Loren Hardin was a social worker with SOMC-Hospice for twenty-nine years. He can be reached at 740.357.6091 or at lorenhardin53@gmail.com. You can order Loren's book, "Straight Paths: Insights for living from those who have finished the course" at Amazon.
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