Chop Wood, Carry Water, Repeat

I didn't know it was palliative massage at the time but spending those last lucid days with my father in the hospital turned out to be just that.

He became suddenly ill, recovered for a few days while I was able to spend time with him, then his condition worsened again. In just three weeks my dad had been in four different hospitals and two intensive care units. His respiratory and blood pressure function yo-yoed so frequently that his condition was reviewed by the doctors every eight hours to monitor progress or set-back. Sometimes this meant receiving phone calls from the hospital in the middle of the night for updates and permissions.

A by-stander to a loved one who is critically ill has to endure waiting for diagnosis, wondering about the treatments, medical system timelines, and the simple and deep concern for survival and comfort; it all adds up to be a roller-coaster of emotions that can leave you with a sense of helplessness.

My family and I were forced to learn how to surrender our need to fix the problem. My dad's critical condition was in the hands of the hospital. We were encouraged to be with him and to touch and talk to him even if he didn't appear to be conscious. And we did.

Me and my pops on a
Mexican adventure in 2012.

Those few days between ICU stints, where he was off all sedation and ventilation, he and I shared some incredibly tender moments. Massage was a big part of our time together. It brought him comfort, and was a welcome form of positive touch that broke up the pokes and prods of medical procedures. It also made me feel like I was helping in an otherwise helpless situation. I suspect that I benefited by providing the massage as much as he did in receiving it.

Perhaps you have heard the Zen adage "chop wood, carry water." This is often interpreted as being mindful and present in all the activities of your life, even the mundane ones. But this can also mean to mindfully carry on in times of difficulty. No matter what state of consciousness you exist in - enlightenment, strife, joy, or despair - you still need to do your tasks and know that there will be more tasks when those are through. There is a grounding effect in fulfilling one's daily tasks and routines especially when you are in a state of flux. Doing what I know how to do for someone I love in a terrible time of need was me chopping wood and carrying water.

Leo Babauta explains this concept in another lovely way in his article The Zen of Doing.

Anyone can provide positive loving touch, and often it is a welcome offering. Don't be shy about reaching out; it can feel empowering to offer this type of tactile help.

Things to consider if you are providing massage to someone in the hospital:

• Do they want it? Ask your sick loved one if they would like to be massaged by you. If you don't ask they may not know how to tell you that they aren't comfortable with you touching them. I personally can't imagine it but there are people out there who don't like to be touched. It would be awful to discover that even with all your good intention you were actually increasing their discomfort!
• Is it safe? Massage can have significant effects on the body's systems, which also may be under the influence of medications. Always ask the patient's medical team if it is appropriate to provide massage. Usually gentle massage to hands, feet, and scalp are a safe bet, depending on what's going on with their body.
• Policies? Many hospitals and facilities are scent-free. Be mindful of fragrance that may be present in your massage lubricant and the effects of this on your surroundings. 
• How? Just start gently massaging and follow your instincts. Keep your mind present by focusing on what you feel and how they are responding. Adjust what you are doing as you go. Ask them if they are comfortable with how you are massaging them, and be receptive to what they say. You will have to get creative about how to move around the hospital bed and equipment in order to reach the parts you want to massage. Be kind to your own body, it's not helpful to injure yourself by being in an uncomfortable position. Plus, the person receiving your touch will sense your discomfort which is certainly not pleasant for them either.

And then he was gone.

If you are a regular reader of my blog, you may have noticed a great gap in my postings. Please excuse my disappearance from blogging, now you know why. There is thankfully more chopping and carrying ahead of me as I meander my way through the grieving process of loosing someone so dear to me.

Be sure to tell your loved ones you love them and reach out and give that hug. Sometimes they're gone before you think they will be.

Dana