I continue to watch the progress of Kaycee - because I've been a pediatric nurse for so many years, and now work in hospice, I know it's a death watch. Yet, always being aware of this young woman's courage, it's so much more. What a wonderful journal she is sharing with us - funny and silly, filled with typical teenaged interests - yet punctuated with wonderful insights and a deep spirituality.
My son is her age, and my heart goes out to her mother. And even though I would love to grab her father by the throat and make him snap out of his self-indulgence at his neglect of his daughter, I realize that he is suffering from his own private hell. A hell he may never be able to return from.
It's such a feeling of being torn with this situation - with someone so young, stopping aggressive treatment seems so impossible - yet, part of me wishes that there was a way to help them consider that a peaceful death at home could be a fitting ending to this story. In hospice, though, it's about what choices are right for each individual. Even though I would hope that I would find the courage to take my child home, hold him and sing lullabies to him at the end, I might need to do everything so that I wouldn't have to wonder "what if?"
To me, it's about making those last moments memories that the people involved can live with. It's not always possible to write that script, though. The folks involved here are doing their best, and I have a great deal of admiration and respect for their decisions. Debbie is doing a fantastic job - in her grief, she will never have to torture herself for wishing she had done more or done things differently, and I hope that she never does that.
The process of grieving is an imporant and profound one - a process fitting of winter - quiet and still - deep and mysterious.
