More From Nancy J. Clark

It wasn’t long after the night my husband finally accepted the reality of eternal life that his medical situation began to deteriorate much more quickly. First was a call from the head nurse in his ward, who told me that he would be moving to the hospice ward in the hospital. I was a little surprised since no one had shared with me up to that point how much he had declined. But knowing how comforting hospice care can be, I agreed with their decision and kept visiting him as often as possible within the limits that were still in place because of COVID-19.

Then came another call from the hospital letting me know that there was a limit to the number of days a patient could remain in the hospice ward, and that Harry had almost reached his limit. I had to find another place for him as soon as possible, but the choices were limited. I could try to find another hospital or a nursing home that had a bed open for a hospice patient, or I could bring him home with limited care from a hospice nurse or a private nurse that I could hire.

After many phone calls over several days, I did find a few places that could take Harry. However, none of them were very close to our house. Since I didn’t drive any more and had to rely on friends to supply transportation, that would have been just too much to ask any of them to take me there during visiting hours and then back home every day. And what if a crisis happened in the middle of the night? How would I be able to be with him when he needed me the most?

The only choice left was to bring him home. When I asked the nurses how long he might still live, they could only tell me that it might be days or it could be weeks or months. The idea of caring for him that long was intimidating. I had very little experience caring for someone who was that sick. What would happen if I did something without knowing that it would be painful for him?

All this time, I was praying almost constantly: “Is this what you want me to do, Lord? Please, let me feel your reassurance that you will be with me every minute of this ordeal.”

When the medics from the hospital brought Harry in and put him on the hospital bed they had set up in the living room, he was unconscious. I held his hand anyway and ended up reading him Psalms from my Bible, choosing some deliberately, others randomly, but they were always appropriate and comforted me as much as I hope they comforted him.

About midnight, Harry seemed to be calm, so I went into our bedroom, just off the living room, to relax for just a while. It wasn’t long before I heard his breathing change: one small breath in, followed by a large breath out that sounded like a hammer. I quickly went back to the living room to observe what was happening. His breathing continued in the same rhythm, slower and slower, with the thumps at the end getting louder and louder. At the end, there were only a few soft breaths and then none. The Lord had indeed been with me all the way through and would continue to hold me up during the difficult days and weeks ahead.