I’ve learned that when you are not given effective comfort care, you’re in pain and struggle to breathe.
I’ve learned that when there’s no thought to your environment, you lie on an uncomfortable bed under bright lights with nothing to look at for hours on end.
I’ve learned that it doesn’t matter if you’re sensitive to noise, all you can hear is the banging of trolleys, loud voices, and call bells.
I’ve learned that for some, honour and respect of your person is not as important as getting the job done and moving on to the next.
I’ve learned that unless you have loved ones nearby, there’s much more clinical touch and much less for caring and comfort.
I’ve learned that if you feel scared and alone, the next person to check on you won’t be in for another hour or so.
I’ve learned that when you feel you have something to say but can’t speak, there’s no time to help you and no pen and paper on hand.
I’ve learned what it looks and feels like when you are no longer a person with a life story, you’re just a bed number with a chart.
I’ve learned through my brother’s experience that there must be a better way! A way to die with dignity and hope while still feeling connected to those we love.