One of my recent Hospice patients recently died. During the time we spent together, he told me many, many detailed stories about the work he did during his life. The stories were somewhat awesome because the man seemed to have more energy than I could imagine. He usually had two jobs, at least, going at the same time. Understandably, he never slept more than a couple of hours at a time. Having cancer resulted in his getting more sleep than ever in his life.
When I visited the funeral home, I was struck by the comments of his mother. She said that he really enjoyed telling me these stories. It seems that the stories embodied more than just a report of his work activities. They, more importantly, embodied his person. The stories were him! Telling me these stories somehow made him feel whole, even if his body was losing its battle with cancer.
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