Bill Reams

Bill Reams

Bill Reams

Bill Reams died at the age of 64 on the 30 of Oct of this year.  His death was not exactly unexpected, it just came sooner than what I thought; of course I am usually wrong in predicting someone’s passing no matter what their condition is.

On the morning of the 29th, Bill collapsed in one of our bathrooms, and was too weak to get up on his own, so he had to be helped into a wheelchair and taken to one of the rooms we had available.  His fatigue had been brothering him for quite a while, and even though we took him to his doctor; something he would only allow us to do when things got really bad for him, and he became desperate, it did not help very much.  The doctor ordered a blood transfusion; three pints to be exact, but after all that he was not much better.  For those who have suffered from fatigue, or suffering from it now; know how debilitating it is.  No matter what is done to seek relief, laying down, sleeping or just sitting, nothing helps to relieve it.  He would tell me how awful it was and was desperate for some relief.  He told me a couple of weeks before he died that his day was spent going from one resting place to another, one place to sit to another, and so it went.  He could not read, nor pray, but only just be, exist in the fog of his deep feeling of fatigue.

After we got Bill settled in his room, and put him to bed, I sat down to have a talk with him.  I first told him that for a few hours we were going to keep his bed rails up, after that hopefully after some rest, he would be able to get to the bathroom on his own.  It turned out that even after the rest he could not go on his own, so we put some briefs on him.

Now Bill had been adamant that he did not want anything done for him to forestall his death, that he really wanted to simply let go of life and go home to the Father.  He had two serious illnesses, one that came on recent, three years before his death.  He was diagnosed with Leukemia, chronic Leukemia, and even though the Doctor told him that treatment was available he declined it.  He also suffered from Paranoid Schizophrenia; it came on in his late twenties, which caused him a great deal of suffering.  He once told me that for him time moved very slowly.  This statement moved me, since the only thing worse than time racing by, which is the experience of most of us, is when time crawls.

He also had trouble relating to others and was often isolated from the community, so all we could do was support him the best we could from afar, with our prayers, and being open to him during those times when he seemed more able to relate.  In any case this last disease caused him so much suffering that he simply wanted to let go and move on.

The reason I wanted to talk with him is that I understood what he wanted but was worried about some complications if I had to call 911 for him.  I would do so if he became very agitated or if he stated to have a lot of pain.  I related to him that while I was willing to do what he wanted, I could not stand by and see him go thru a lot of suffering that I could relieve by sending him to the hospital.  Since he refused to sign any documents, even a living will I was concerned that going to the emergency room could complicate the dying process for him.  He understood my position but stated that he was in no pain, and not afraid to die.  So left it at that, and was at peace.

He slowly got weaker as the day went on, his oxygen level was only 65%, yet he refused any oxygen.  His mind was clear however, so I complied, difficult as that was for me to go along with.  At about 8:30 in the evening I was called by the LPN on duty and told I needed to come up right away, it was Bill.  I arrived and Bill was in bed, unconscious, with cold sweat spread out over his body.  His breathing was shallow and his body very limp and unresponsive.  We sat him up in the highest position that his hospital bed could go up, and I sent someone to get Fr Anthony to come and anoint him.  While the Sacrament was given, Bill started to recover; we knew this because he made the sign of the cross when Fr Anthony gave him the final blessing. 

We figured that he must have had a TIA and recovered.  We had to clean him up a bit, dried him off, and put on some dry clothes, since the ones he had on were soaked in sweat.  Knowing that he could very well die, I decided to stay and keep watch with him, keep him comfortable and pray. 

He looked like a child as he slept, slowly getting weaker.  His breathing became more labored, though he was still conscious and he let me know that he was not in distress, which I knew to be true by his body language.  At about 12:30 on the 30th he became unresponsive, and the PCT (Bernadette) and I again placed him in the highest sitting position possible.  He was again unresponsive, and the cold sweat returned, and his breathing started to come in small gasps.  He looked so defenseless, so little that my heart when out to this man of faith who suffered so long and so much, but still keep his deep and abiding faith.  Both Bernadette and I prayed for him and with him as he died, lifting his soul to the Father, the Father he so to abandon himself to.  He died at 12:55 without pain or undo distress.

After he died, we cleaned his body, fixed up the bed, and then we called in Fr Anthony to come in and give the final blessing over the body.  We then called the funeral home to come and receive the body.  Since no RN was on duty, the body had to be taken to the ER for a doctor to proclaim him dead and the death certificate filled in.

I think one of the greatest sufferings for anyone suffering from a chronic illness, be it  mental illness or from a physical disease that is hidden, is the lack of understanding and support that they can sometimes feel, real or imagined.   While understandable it is still sad that many are isolated by others because of this kind of misunderstanding.  I suppose the only reason I tend not to fall into that state (much of the time but not always) is because I work with the old, weak and dying, and see what some of them have to go thru when they feel undervalued, or judged harshly about their “hidden” illness. 

Bill’s life was a success, he never gave up no matter how dark it got, he continued on the road of faith to the end.  He also never lost his child like transparency that came out from time to time when not in the grip of his mental illness.  I was one of the drivers when he had to go to the doctor, and was amazed on how easily he shared his faith with others, in a way that was open, joyful and innocent and how people would respond to him when he did share.  There was no self consciousness about his sharing, it was free and open and joyful.

This transparency also came out when he would write his poetry.  Some of it was very raw, open, and dealt with how he experienced life head on.  People loved his poetry, and I remember one lady who come into the store and buy his book on poetry, ten at a time to take to people shut up in hospitals.  The lady told me that they found his writing helpful, and it also spoke to them about what they were going thru.  So Bill did have a positive effect on many people’s lives.

Yes his life was a success and Bill I pray and hope you found the peace you sought for so long and hard.

Peace

Mark

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