Mona Villarubia
Board-certified chaplain and retired theology teacher
As a chaplain I am able to use skills I acquired through teaching and retreat work such as Progressive Relaxation, Guided Meditation, and Music. But more important than what I bring is what the patient shares with me. I have learned to put aside my preferences and “scripts” and listen to my patients, and to use prompts from the patient’s immediate environment – colors, photos, books, flowers – to guide my meditations.
On two occasions I had profoundly moving experiences using Guided Meditation with dying patients who had lost connection to, and trust in, their religion and were desperate to connect to the Divine.
Of crucial importance was to discover what language or images of God have proven hurtful, and what positive images, sensations, colors etc. offered the possibility of a positive experience.
After a couple of false starts I learned to listen better and use their language and images to construct a meditation on the presence of the Divine that seemed to provide them with joy and peace and easier breathing in their final minutes.
I have found that singing familiar songs creates a connection with otherwise mute or simply confused Alzheimer’s Hospice patients in my care. One patient, who was barely rousable, would start joining in the refrains of songs from her era. So I built a list of the songs she responded to.
Her favorite was “You are My Sunshine;” it was the first one she sang along to. The guitar and the singing became a weekly experience that brought her children to her bedside to sing with her and stay for supper.
Another patient, who screamed nearly constantly, was quieted not by my singing so much, but when I placed a rhythm “egg” in her hand and showed her how to make noise she was a happy camper. Of course I didn’t get the egg back, but her smile was worth it, as was the gratitude of her caregiver.
One special grace I received as a hospice chaplain was the opportunity to visit with a patient in the final stages of ALS. We communicated using her eye blinks and a letter board and the assistance of her caregivers.
She was afraid to die and asked me to share my beliefs about heaven, so I told her about my son who had died. I told her funny stories about him and described his character. I told her that my greatest wish was to hug him one more time and for that hug to last for eternity.
I told her he would take her fishing and make her laugh, because that was what she needed to hear, and that is what I desperately want to believe, so I knew it would sound authentic.
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