He is a hospice patient at his 80's. Was sent back to us because he fell again at home after pacemaker was put in within a month. 

He was confused and agitated. So much so that the first night we put on a vest on him, then soft restrain on both his ankles for his safety. After he pulled his foley out causing more bleeding the second day, he was put on soft restrain on both his wrists. He turned and fought us, refusing to be put on any restrain. He looked like he was on a death bed in a prison. I felt bad for him and the family, who was just outside the room hearing us doing all necessary work.

Three days later when I saw him again, he was on ativan drip, which made him totally sedated. He looked much calmer like he was sleeping. But I heard him rattling, the gurgling sounds in the throat in an active dying patient.

The comfort cart, where there is soft music playing all the time, was left in the room. The comfort fleece blanket was on the patient to keep him warm and cozy. The "no one dies alone" program sends voluntary sitter every night when family goes back at night. I know that my job was to keep this patient clean, dry and comfortable on the bed when he is going away.

We came in early in our shift to begin our day. His eyes and chapped lips were cleaned after a night sleep. A little lip balm was applied to those dry lips. Then changed the brief, where he still pees and poos. Then the linen. The whole bed. We turned him on the side to keep the bottom from being sore and breaking down. Once he was settled. We went on to the next room. Then every couple hours even though I knew that he was not going anywhere because of ativan, we made an effort to just go into the room and made sure everything was going fine.

The thing all started when I heard the wife talked to me angrily, almost screachingly too, "Can YOU tell me why he was NOT turned as often the past 2 days?" Then the daughter or the son continued, " he did NOT get turned every 2 hours...."

"EXCUSE ME?!?!" I was kind of shocked to hear it from the family after all has been done. "For christ sake that he is a HOSPICE patient on sedation." I started screaming in my mind, "What is the freaking point that you count how often he gets to be turned?!?!"....."He is DYING! got it?!?! no matter if i turned him a thousand times a day".... "By the way, when you did NOT see us turning him, that does NOT mean we did not turn him. B-I-A-T-C-H!!" I walked out of the room almost broken hearted for all the work done for him and the family.

From that point on it took all my sympathy away from them. all I saw in the patient and his family was a 80-some year old freak with a penile implant that still worked the day he was dying when we changed his diaper, the penis was the only thing that was not droopy, wrinkly or soft. As far as the wife, the gray haired little old lady at her...i would say 80's, was literally a joke when I gagged myself to imagine that "back in the days" when the penile implant thing still comes out to play in her......U-G-H! help, please!

All I ever wanted from them was 2 words, "thank you." All they needed to do was to just say thanks. i swear.

p.s. this patient died 3 days on a friday after I took care of him. 2/18/08