I couldn’t sleep last night for thinking about Miss Faye.  The truth is, I barely know her.  For years and years, she and her husband Joe have hosted a Christmas dinner for my Father’s Sunday school class.  Up until two days ago, I had only exchanged a few brief words with her.  That all changed last Saturday.

Miss Faye earns the title of the “Hostess with the Most-ess” the night of the annual gathering. To reach the location of the Christmas banquet, one enters the front of Miss Faye’s house, walks through the living room and a short hall, and down a few steps into what used to be a garage.  Tables covered with swaths of paper are lined up in a couple of long rows. They are flanked with those classic folding metal chairs on either side….the kind that create a cacophony of unpleasant squeaking sounds as they slide on the concrete floors for folks to sit down.  In this large, heated area, the walls are covered floor to ceiling with paintings, collectibles, signs, a deer trophy, folk art, angels, and Christmas decor galore….a menagerie of all things meaningful to Miss Faye and family!

I have memories of my Mom talking about going to this special Christmas dinner every December….it was one of the social highlights of the year for her.  Besides having a dinner of steak, baked potatoes, salad and bread, Mom always proudly carried her famous peanut brittle to share on the dessert counter.  As soon as people lined up for the buffet, the peanut brittle would all but disappear from Mom’s serving plate before the first bite of steak was consumed.  You see, the serving line routed past the dessert counter FIRST.

After the dinner, the main event takes place….an auction of white elephant gifts, with the proceeds going to missions through the Lottie Moon Christmas Offering at church.  For weeks the wives of the member’s of Dad’s Sunday school class plan what to give for the auction.  Many of the presents are bought specifically for this event, while others might be recycled, unused gifts or duplicate items from home.  Various sizes, shapes, boxes and bags appear with each couple.  And as each guest enters Miss Faye’s house, she takes their gift and personally organizes them strategically in preparation for the auction to begin.  She likes to maintain control of the event.  After all, it is her house!

Last Saturday, I received a phone call from our Church Pastor.  He started by apologizing for the call and for sharing my contact information, and spoke about Miss Faye.  Her husband, Joe, had been admitted to the same hospital my Dad was discharged from two weeks ago.  Like Dad, he was transported from his home by ambulance and was having respiratory distress.  Also like Dad, he was screened for flu which was negative, so the COVID-19 test was administered.

Joe had several serious underlying health issues.  He had circulatory problems and also required dialysis.  Due to his deteriorating condition and increasing respiratory difficulties, he was admitted to the Intensive Care Unit and connected to a ventilator, in addition to other life support equipment.

Now back to the purpose of the Pastor’s phone call …… “I hope you don’t mind, but I gave your name and number to Faye in the hope you provide some encouragement to her,” and we spoke about providing advice on how she can get the information she needs about her husband.

Before I completed this brief conversation with the Pastor, my phone was ringing from an unknown number, which I would soon add as a contact….Miss Faye.

As a nurse, I’ve been particularly interested in the effects COVID-19 is having on patient care facilities.  The ever-changing visitor restrictions at local hospitals tightened last week after Dad was discharged.  Now absolutely NO visitors are allowed for any patient in the entire hospital.  This was having a major impact on Miss Faye.

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During that call, I was on the phone for a very long time with Miss Faye.  Mostly, I listened.  In her voice, I heard the fear of a wife who could not get regular updates on her critically ill husband.  Frustration was evident by her tone when she explained how she could find out if the nurses were rubbing her husband’s feet to help circulation to his toes.  She used to do this every day and night, and it worried her to think he might need his feet rubbed for comfort.  Miss Faye didn’t understand why she was not getting regular calls from the doctors, updating her on changes in Joe’s condition.  There was some consolation in finding out that his COVID-19 test came back negative.  But she wanted to be by his bedside to hold his hand, talk to him, pray for him, and rub his feet.

All I could do on the phone was make suggestions, which seemed to work.  I encouraged Miss Faye to call the ICU front desk, and ask them to kindly have a nurse or doctor return her call whenever convenient.  I asked her to write down three questions she wanted them to provide information about.  Also, I instructed her on how to ask open-ended questions. She needed more than a yes or no answer. She needed details, and to hear a caregiver’s voice.

Miss Faye and I spoke 5 times that day.  By late morning she was armed with the name of a social worker and phone numbers to reach her.  Later that afternoon, a doctor called to provided a detailed update, and gave her the encouraging news that Joe’s ventilator setting were being turned down.  There were signs of improvement!  On the last call she made to me, Miss Faye’s voice was less anxious, more relaxed, and she said she thought she would go for a walk!  I praised her for doing a beautiful job in a situation that’s difficult in the best of times….having a loved one in the hospital, especially intensive care.   But most of all now, when families are barred from visiting at any time, and kept isolated from their loved ones at the most vulnerable time in their life.

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I saw an email from the church Pastor Monday afternoon.  Joe had just passed away.  The flood of emotions I felt about the physical space between Miss Faye and her beloved Joe during his final moments are hard to describe.  This was separation by no fault of their own.  I hope she feels Joe knew she was there with him in his final moments.  I hope her heart only remembers all those days and months and years she walked by his side, and rubbed his feet.

Thoughts turn to the thousands all over the world who are separated by mandate to keep those not affected by COVID-19 safe.   As the ones who are stricken with the virus pass on, their family and friends are left to carry burden of wondering what truly happened in the final days, hours, or minutes of their life? While we are confident that the health care professionals exhausted all means to save their life, it is mainly the emotional support that we would have provided, but couldn’t.  Many not infected with the virus are caught up in the isolation restrictions, like Miss Faye. In many ways, Joe was a victim of the COVID-19 pandemic, too.

May we all love a little stronger.  May we cherish time with loved ones a lot more.   If, by an unfortunate situation, we experience separation like Miss Faye and Joe did in his final days of life, let us all be certain that we have no regrets, and be confident that the ones we love truly know it.