The first time I met Jim, I thought he was a bit strange. Walking into his room on the oncology floor, to introduce myself as his nurse; a group of doctors were standing around his bed explaining to him his dire prognosis and a complication that arose from one of the central lines in his neck. They carefully explained that his line was infected and developed a clot which could potentially dislodge and cause a stroke. The cancer that was devouring Jims body was advanced and only getting worse. The thing I thought was strange was that while I was watching this scenario unfold, Jim was smiling!
Jim acted calm, relaxed, even showing empathy and understanding to the doctors who were having a difficult time trying to soften the bad news. I thought to myself, it must be the narcotics, he was probably just medicated, and feeling a bit euphoric perhaps. This was not the case, he wasn’t recently medicated and he acted very lucid and thanked the doctors for their compassion and efforts on his behalf. Jim’s wife was sitting on a chair next to him holding his hand and crying.
When the doctors left the room, I introduced myself and asked if he understood everything the doctors said to him. He stated that he fully understood everything and proceeded to comfort his wife. I told him that he was taking all this extremely well, and if he had any questions I could help answer for him just ask. They thanked me and I went on to introduce myself to my next patient, as I was about to walk out of the room Jim asked me if I had time later to come back and see him. I had seven other patients I needed to assess right then, but told him I would return when I had more time.
A few hours later, after catching up with my other patients, I had some time to finally talk to Jim. I knocked on his door and entered his room. He looked up and smiled and invited me to sit down in the chair next to his bed. His wife must have just left because the chair was still warm. I noticed a picture on the wall of a much heavier version of Jim hanging on a tire tied to a rope, swinging over a river on a beautiful summer day. I joked with him mentioning that he lost quite a bit of weight on the chemo diet he’s been on. He laughed and agreed. In the picture he was surrounded by five young children all laughing and appearing to be having the time of their lives. He mentioned they were all his children as he observed me looking at the picture. I said it looks like you’re a wealthy person, referring to the happy kids. Jim said that indeed he was very blessed. I told him that we were expecting our first born late November early December. He told me what blessing children are and how much love you can experience with them. Then he asked me if I wanted to know why he was taking all this so well, and I nodded yes.
Jim explained to me the course of his disease progression, how the cancer started and how it progressed to the point of his last surgery. In the operating room, during surgery, Jim simply said that he died. He described the experience of leaving his body, traveling through a tunnel with a white light and an overwhelming loving presence at the end of it.
Looking at me with an expression you would expect from a loving grandparent, he went on to say that the presence was Jesus, and it was explained to him that he had a choice to make. That choice was to stay there or return for a short time to be with his family a little longer and to say good bye.
Listening to Jim describe his experience was enlightening and wonderful. I just felt great listening to him talk. He emitted such a powerful positive feeling of love and serenity that I physically felt lighter for hours. The transformation he experienced was profound and life changing. He no longer feared death. Being outside your own body was an indescribable freedom and what he said was on the other side of the tunnel was unconditional love and understanding. “It was like going home”. I thanked him for sharing his experience with me and contemplated the meaning of all of it, and still do.
Over the next months Jim was admitted to the Oncology floor several times, due to his worsening condition and side effects of all the treatments. Through luck or coincidence he was always my patient. I looked forward to the down times I had so I could talk with him more about life and death. He always exuded this positive energy and it was contagious. His wife was even at peace with how things were evolving.
Unfortunately sometimes you don’t get to say good bye. I came into work one day and found out he was discharged home. I wished him a good night the prior evening though and was happy that he was home with his family. A few months went by, and I accepted an offer to work in cancer research on a promising vaccine. New job and a new healthy baby boy in November. Things were busy and disorienting. My son Kevin was only home for three weeks and we’re about to have our first Christmas with him.
Christmas eve in the mail I received a card and a small gift wrapped box from Jim’s wife. I walked inside the house to show my wife, who has heard all about Jim, and we opened and read the letter together. The letter said that Jim passed away in October. She wrote that Jim was thankful that you were his nurse and always took time to talk to him. She said that he would always ask when he was admitted if you could be his nurse, since I worked evenings then, guess it wasn’t chance or coincidence. She said Jim wanted to give us a little something for the baby. With tears in our eyes we opened the present and inside a tiny baby outfit and a bib. She wrote that children are such a blessing from god and to love them, that part of Jim are in their five children and she feels blessed every day. This happened almost eight years ago, sometimes were the lucky ones, being able to help and in turn be helped by such extraordinary people.
August 14th, 2007 at 8:27 pm
This was a really great story. Brought tears to my eyes also.
November 20th, 2007 at 1:55 am
This letter is so Beautiful.
I believe Jim was an Angel and Mike was chosen to help him spread his wings.
Also to be an inspiration to his patients, family, and friends.
ANJ