A corner room at the hospice inpatient unit, room 412 is a bit larger than the other rooms, with windows facing two directions. It doesn’t always work this way, but we try to place patients with larger families in 412. Sometimes, but not always, this means younger patients. Sometimes, but not always, this means harder deaths.
Some people linger in 412, and others stay for a short time.
Room 412 has held big emotion. Profound relief at symptoms finally controlled. Joy at greeting loved ones, summoned from far and near. Fear of the unknown, and deep anguish. Anger: sharp, sloppy, justified or misplaced. Wild hope, wild despair, and everything in between. This room has space for feelings of large diameter, whether shared out loud or held inside.
A wide range of sounds have emerged from room 412, including music and laughter. The happy shrieking of toddlers, and the unrestrained sobbing of heartbroken parents. The sound of geese and ducks. Fox News. CNN. Disney. There has been the sound of labored breathing, and the sound of no breathing. There has been quiet, laying thick like a blanket over the bed.
Room 412 holds a lot of stuff, more than it looks like in this photo. Handmade quilts and favorite pillows, sometimes stained. Stuffed animals. Wet tissues. Balloons and birthday cake and photographs. Bedside commodes, mouth swabs and emesis basins. Wine, hard liquor, junk food, toiletries, NFL paraphernalia, and get-well cards taped to the walls. Electronic devices with their charging cords, silk pajamas, hoodies, flowers. Crosses, prayer shawls, and rosaries.
The walls of 412 have witnessed extreme physical experiences, such as seizures and hemorrhage. Also soft experiences. Such as sleeping and dreaming, countless hours spent in a realm that we don’t have a good word for. The aftermath of these experiences must be sanitized from the room, before the next occupant arrives.
There have been angels in room 412, both seen and unseen.
The door to 412 is sometimes open and sometimes closed. There may be a “do not disturb” sign hanging from the door handle. There are private miracles unfolding inside. There are reconciliations and last words ever spoken.
There is tenderness.
There is love.
