Communication Through a Squeeze of the Hand

I haven't written a blog post for a few months - let me tell you why.

Shortly after my last post my father had a health crisis and was rushed to the hospital. They discovered pneumonia and then, after further testing, found advanced lung cancer. He went from regular hospital care to palliative care (pain management and comfort for end of life) in a matter of a couple of weeks. My family was devastated and our heads were spinning with this very sudden turn of events.

We spent several weeks visiting my Dad, watching him deteriorate with shocking speed. I was with him during his last waking moments. He could barely breathe let alone speak. The change in his condition from that of the prior day was frightening. Even his nurses were astounded at how quickly he was slipping away. It was clear that he was in the last day or two of his life.

I sat beside him holding his hand while my mother took a brief break. My Dad was very intelligent and had clear blue eyes through which you could see the sharpness of his mind. He looked at me and asked me three questions - each with a breathless word or two. He whispered one word and I then guessed at what he wanted to know. I then repeated to him what I thought he was asking me and, after a confirming squeeze of my hand, I answered him. He squeezed my hand again after each reply from me. After I answered his questions, we sat quietly for a few minutes, his frail hand in mine - each of us holding on to each other for the last time. Of course, we did not know just then that it would be the last time. If I had known, I would not have let him go. His hand squeezes said more to me than any words could have. I hope he felt the same.

It was not like it is in the movies - we did not know when to say goodbye. So we never said it. But, through those hand squeezes we communicated a lifetime of love.

He was given an injection for pain about 15 minutes later, which made him sleep. He never regained consciousness and died the next afternoon.

This painful episode in my life proved to me what I have been saying for years. The weakest form of communication is through words. Body language and eye contact communicate so much more and with much more truth and clarity.

It took me a long time to write this post, although I have been thinking about it for months. So I'll dedicate this one to my father. Thanks for getting me writing again.

I miss you Dad, although I can still feel your hand in mine.

Give someone you love a squeeze today...

Catherine