My Dying Client

I have a client, who suffers from a terminal illness. Back then around May 2012, he is someone who come across to me as carefree and independent.

As I entered into the ICU ward: there he lies - bedridden and shrouded with strings of tubes and cords around his customized bed, plugged into cold machine and alien equipment. The freedom he used to enjoy is now a recent past. He is alone in his ward, for his condition is too precarious to be living with someone else. Truthfully, he is depended on advanced technology to supply him with oxygen and nutrients for survival.

In other words, he is effectively dying. His days are truly numbered. Concrete and in his face. Not merely an abstract thought.

His voice was feeble and I can barely make any coherent meaning out of his statement. His breathless state constantly robbed him of the opportunity to speak clearly as it has began to take toil on his lung by mere speech. The output of air is way too much for him through talking and his energy deteriorated hastily as his eyes wavered between closing (for some rest) and battling to stay open as he was conscious about the fact that there was a visitor.

Illness has not stole away his common sense of courtesy - though I wouldn't have take it personally even if he had rested for a long moment without speaking to me.

I just wanted my presence around.

I have done and achieved all our mutual set goals as a social worker. He was appreciative of that and make sure that I know it well by thanking me. Many times in fact. I shared that I am here because I want to be there for him: the geniune humane support because he is not just another 'case number' in my system. There he is - a dying man - who is anxious about the prospect of death and wondered where the route ahead lies. I do not profess that I know exactly how he feels, but that does not hinder me in any ways on how I could be there for him professionally.

I know his story. The goldmine of narrative that hid great stash of his personal values, perspective, regrets and glorious moments.  

I stood there for a brief moment. I lower myself near to him as he could not hear him very well. Regardless of content, I just nodded and smiled.

Before I left, he reminded me to wash my hands as it was for my own safety.

My clients. The thoughtful guy.

As I left the hospital, an old quote from Erich Fromm came into my mind: "Man is the only animal for whom his own existence is a problem which he has to solve and from which he cannot escape" (Man for Himself).