Sweet elderly lady

Poem by Suraj Shah.

Sweet elderly lady, that lives just three doors down,
Used to smile broadly, now carries a slight frown.
Lived with her husband for sixty magnificent years,
With his recent passing, she is overcome with tears.

She struggles to cook, craves help from her man,
Can’t manage alone, can’t even lift a saucepan.
It’s been only four months, but feels more like eleven,
Places demands on God, to also whisk her to heaven.

Sons live far far away, with their own pretty wives,
Busy working away to maintain their expensive lives.
They encourage her to move, to somewhere nearby,
Yet such rushed upheavel, would make anyone cry.

She reminisces about their love, missing him so much,
The long country drives, and his soft and gentle touch.
To get where she wanted, he would take her in the car,
Now she depends on others, to reach places near and far.

A beautiful garden, he had worked hard to maintain,
Now looks more like a picture with a horrible stain.
He grew all types of vegetables on the green patch,
Now remains a reminder of her man unfairly snatched.

On warm summer days, in the garden they had sat,
Sharing a glass of wine, discussing this and that.
Now she’s alone, with no-one home to enjoy a drink,
Instead stays indoors, with plenty of time to think.

She thinks and she thinks, thinking more and more,
Pondering on days to come, wondering what’s in store.
Acknowledging she will be alone, and that’s actually ok,
Happy in her own company, she’s decided to stay.

Never forgetting the kind man, who once shared her life,
With conviction she will overcome, any kind of strife.
The sweet elderly lady, that lives three doors away,
Affirms she will lead a full life, starting from today.

Calm inducing rituals

Written by Suraj Shah.

Soon after the death of a loved one, emotions are all over the place.

There is so much to organise. Relatives fly in from around the world. Family and friends call up and come round to support, arriving early and staying till late.

During such a delicate time, close family members experiencing the loss need something to help bring calm to the madness.

Calm during chaos

In the timeless Jain tradition, we have one such method to bring about calm at a time of chaos.

Within a day or so of the death, we hold a prayer meeting. Distant family and friends of the bereaved and other members of the community congregate in a hall, giving them the chance to offer their condolences to the family.

What I value the most during these two hour sessions are the songs that are sung. These “vairagya na stavano” are songs from the Jain and other Indian traditions that bring about detachment.

What is detachment and why is it important at a time of loss?

In our day to day lives, we spend so much time indulging in objects of the senses, constantly being seduced by the desires of our body and its constant demands.

We succumb to likes and dislikes in pretty much everything we do.  These attractions and aversions bring about damaging emotions of anger, greed, ego and deceit.

When we lose someone that we like so much it is easy to fall into a sorrowful and bitter state – but there is a way to rise above it.

Detachment cultivates freedom from attractions (likes) and aversions (dislikes).

Songs that help bring about detachment, the “vairagya na stavano”, result in calm and clarity in our lives.

These songs paint a compassionate picture of how:

  1. The soul is separate from the body.
  2. Even though the body is momentary, the true self (soul) lives forever.
  3. Nothing we do can change someone else’s destiny.
  4. Nothing we do can change our own current situation.
  5. We have great power to influence our own future experiences.
  6. We have great power to remain calm no matter what we are experiencing right now.
  7. There are those who are completely liberated from suffering.
  8. There are those who are in a state of abundant, infinite and eternal bliss.
  9. Those liberated souls presently in a state of eternal bliss have left a path for us to attain it too.
  10. Having faith in words of these wonderfully compassionate souls and patiently treading the path they have shared will bring about great calm and clarity in our lives.

At a time of sorrow and chaos, attaining a sense of calm seems fairly straightforward.

In your faith, tradition or community, what calm inducing rituals do you take part in?

Falling silent after a patient’s death

Written by Suraj Shah.

I feel like when my patients die, I definitely do spend a moment reflecting on the patient but mostly thinking of the families and those moments always truly humble me, because it reminds me that in a few days I will likely not think of that moment, but those families will never forget.

In a recent BBC news article, surgeon Pauline Chen suggests that doctors and nurses should be obliged to pause for silent reflection when someone they are treating dies. It would be good for them, she says, and may make them better carers.

In summary, the article highlights:

  • there should be a mandatory 5 minutes silence when a patient dies.
  • all carers would gather round the bedside and reflect in silence on that person’s life and death.
  • most caregivers, particularly doctors in the west avoid confronting the reality because a patient who dies represents a professional failure.
  • having a five minute pause for silence will give closure.
  • the conscious pause will also establish a ritual, which leads to offering great comfort at difficult moments.
  • also the five minute pause will allow caregivers to acknowledge their own feelings.
  • by denying the acknowledgement of feelings, doctors and other caregivers end up being restrained by them.

I asked a bunch of friends who are in the medical profession what they thought about it.

One friend wrote:

“What a heartfelt story. I think that a moment of silence for patients who have passed is actually something that is not only good for that person but for the families and the medical doctors and registered nurses.

I feel like when my patients die, I definitely do spend a moment reflecting on the patient but mostly thinking of the families, and those moments always truly humble me, because it reminds me that in a few days I will likely not think of that moment, but those families will never forget. Thank you for sharing this with me. I think I will be more conscious in those moments to come.”

Another friend wrote:

“Interesting article. I do think that we could do more to respect a patient who has died. We as doctors could also do a lot better to respect the woes of patients who are living.

From the point of view of an ER doctor, I think that 5 minutes is not possible in that environment. Also, it would be nice to have some tradition that reflects and acknowledges the death of a patient, but it would be better if it came from a tradition of spirituality or compassion (universal spirituality is better than any particular religion in our society, mostly) rather than one of hospital policy. The culture in the ER that I see is that some people would like this very much, and others would just scoff at it.

Overall, a tradition of some moments of silence, and then a protocol of supporting family, etc, would be good. I sort of do that in my own way, but it would be nice to have more of a protocol that gets people on the same page, and also has room for exceptions (i.e. it is not appropriate to have a moment of silence if a family member is freaking out … you have to support them first and do what is right for them, silence otherwise).

Perhaps that protocol would also one day become tradition and influence us a bit deeper. There are many medical professionals who are compassionate, and there are many that are not (maybe selectively compassionate depending on mood etc.) We are a pretty diverse and intense bunch of people.

I think that our society has to be more compassionate in general. That is the real issue. Compassionate and intelligent in conjunction with each other. We are way too materialistic and not compassionate enough.”

Are you a carer of some form where you face death more often than most other people? If so, how do you feel about observing silence after a patient’s death?