Stepping-Stones: Following a Pathway to the End of Life
by Ellie Atherton
Ellie Atherton became a midwife to the dying in the early ’90s while working as an herbalist. In 2003 she became an RN and chose hospice as her medical specialty. She says caring for patients and supporting caregivers was an honor, and a privilege that has greatly enhanced her life.
Ellie began offering private nurse advocacy services to assist patients through the challenges of a complicated medical system in 2016. She worked with patients who were still undergoing treatments in the last year of life and assisted them and their families through the last days and hours of the dying process, in the comfort of their private home settings. She facilitated meetings on patients behalf in nursing and assisted living facilities, private homes, and hospitals. When patients requested more clarity regarding their options, meetings with their caregivers, and healthcare team, especially their physicians and surgeons, facilitated by a private nurse advocate, was powerfully effective. She aptly named the service Healthcare Guide. Ellie is best known for her thorough, compassionate care and for untiring advocacy for her patients, colleagues, and staff. Due to the arrival of COVID-19, she had to close the business. Currently working as a hospice nurse, she continues to care for dying patients and support their families in their home setting. Ellie says this is a role she feels called to, which offers her the never-ending privilege of being a loving presence at the end of a human life.
Excerpt
On the way to the house to perform Robert’s pronouncement, I thought about how strong, organized, and thoughtful he had been in his preparation for dying. I recalled that Robert had told me, just the week before, that he had everything in order. He had done precisely what he had outlined in our early visits and insisted he was going to do before he died. When he felt certain he had everything in order, as planned, he made his way out of this world.
Here was another important lesson for me about the strength and determination of the human spirit. I loved that I was able to pay attention and learn from Robert. So why was I surprised when I learned he had died? It was because Robert was alert and lucid twelve hours prior to his death, and this was unusual. Most patients took several days to settle into a peaceful place before dying—I suppose that speaks to his resoluteness.
Rachel greeted me at the door, teary-eyed, looking frail and exhausted. I could hear the sound of voices floating in from the kitchen.
“Rachel, I’m so sorry. Can I give you a hug?”
“Oh, yes, thank you.” She wrapped her arms around my neck and gave a squeeze. Then, stepping back and motioning for me to step into the foyer, she caught me off guard when she said, “You won’t believe what he did!”
She went on with some animation to tell me that she woke around 3 a.m. and went to check on Robert. He woke to her touch and she asked him how he was doing. He said he felt fine and wanted to talk with her. She said they spoke about their early years, how proud they were of their daughter, and the love of a precious grandchild. She said he had always been so grateful for the blessings in his life, and this early morning talk was no different. Robert thanked her for being a great wife and mother and praised her for being a wonderful caregiver over recent years as his health had declined. Rachel said they talked for quite some time. Then Robert asked her to wake Carrie because he wanted to speak to her as well. Rachel had awakened their daughter and said, “Daddy wants to speak with you for a little bit. He and I just had the most wonderful conversation.”
“Is everything okay, Mom?”
“He seems fine. He just wants to talk. Go ahead. I’ll give you two time alone.”
Rachel said her daughter went in and sat in the chair next to her dad’s hospital bed. Robert told his daughter what an amazing young woman she had become, and how proud he was of her. He told her what a blessed gift his granddaughter had been in his life.
They shared some tears, hugs, and I love yous. They told each other how much they would miss being together. Carrie reminded her dad that he would always be in their hearts and never, ever be forgotten. She thanked him for being the most wonderful, loving, and supportive father and a great Papa to her little daughter. They sat quietly for a few moments holding hands, then Robert asked her to call her mom to join them.
Mother and daughter sat in silence as he rested, off and on, opening his eyes to look at them. Robert asked his daughter to get some water for him. After she left the room, he looked at his wife and asked if she would bring him a Tylenol for a mild headache.
In the kitchen, mother and daughter briefly spoke about what amazing conversations they had shared with him. They hugged and cried and said how much they were going to miss him—husband, father, and patriarch of the family. Returning to Robert with the water and Tylenol, they found him peaceful and motionless, his eyes closed. His wife noticed his chest was not going up and down; he wasn’t breathing.
Rachel reached over and took hold of Carrie’s hand and squeezed it. She said she wanted to prepare her daughter for what was happening. They walked hand in hand toward the bed. Rachel reached out and gently lifted Robert’s hand into hers. Much to their astonishment, he opened his eyes. He looked at the two of them staring back at him and smiled. He whispered, “I love you all, so very much.” Then he closed his eyes again, and they waited for another breath that never came.
The two women stayed with Robert and took in the unbelievable hours they had just spent with him. They were in awe of his peaceful passing—his ability to say I love you and then let go of life. What a powerful lesson in dying Robert had given to his family. I call this a lasting gift that will affect generations to come.
Listen to this chapter in Ellie’s Podcast
EPISODE 14 -THE POWER AND PERSPECTIVE OF DYING
To learn more about Ellie, her books, and to listen to more of her podcast episodes, click here.