Camara McLaughlin's Death Story

It’s early August, 2006. The W.Va. sun beats down on the already scorched grass, while cicadas sing in the trees. Farmers, who populate most of Monroe County, a rural county of about 13,000 residents, are sweating in the fields as they make hay.

High school students are at practice. Football, cheerleading, soccer, volleyball. Children of all ages are preparing their state fair exhibits. Sheep, cows, and pigs will be shown. Quilts, pies, and perfectly ripe tomatoes will be displayed. Everyone, it seems is enjoying the dog days of summer, the last sense of freedom before school begins.

Normally, Brittany Allen was a part of this. Having just graduated from high school, she should have been back to school shopping, preparing for her new life. In a few weeks she is starting at Mountain State University in Beckley, WV. She’s going to be a nurse, like her mom, Teresa.

But instead of all this, she’s inside with her mom, her little sister Katie, her grandma Doris, and her great-aunt, Shirley. They are all at Shirley’s bedside. Brittany and her family are watching Shirley die.

The family resemblance between them all is astounding. All have brilliant blue eyes that twinkle with a persistent mischievousness. Usually all are ready to crack a joke or share a piece of juicy gossip.

But not on this day. On this day, a family member is passing out of this world.

Once the cancer claims Shirley’s final breath, they call the hospice nurse, so that she can come pronounce Shirley as dead.

Brittany and her mom wash Shirley’s body, a job usually undertaken by hospice nurses, but the nurse and the aspiring nurse want to do. The hospice nurse is there for support.

“I remember her talking with us and helping us work through our grief…she was really good with my grandma,” Brittany said of the nurse who had worked with her family in the months leading up to her aunt’s death. “She was really good with Nanny.” Doris, was Shirley’s older sister, and they had always been close.

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Three and a half years later, Brittany is 21. She and her 21 other classmates have one and a half semesters left before graduating as registered nurses. They are figuring out what type of nurses they want to be.
The response Brittany is most often met with when she shares her future plans?
“Is that really what you want to do?”

Yes. This is what Brittany really wants to do.

She is the only one in her class who wants to become a hospice nurse. Most want to work in the emergency room or with newborns.

Yes, babies are wonderful. Yes, it’s the miracle of life, but it’s not enough for Brittany.

“I can birth a baby all day long,” she says, her southern W.Va. accent relaying nothing but absolute confidence.

There is no doubt that this 5 foot 1 inch tall young woman really can birth a baby all day long.

“Hospice though,” she says, a contemplative look upon her small features, “hospice is a lot of times able to step in and give the patients a small wish they want in their final days.”

Whatever the wish, hospice nurses get to give patients one more piece of happiness before they die. “It can be a cheeseburger, a cold beer, a ‘roll me out in my wheel chair so I can see my car one more time’.” No matter how small, that one piece of happiness means a lot.

“You’re one of the last people they see before they die…before they make that transition,” she says. Being able to give someone comfort and peace before they die is priceless.

The comfort relates heavily to the fact that most hospice patients, Brittany estimates around 70 % in her area of W.Va., get to die in their own homes. They get to be surrounded by their loved ones, in a safe place. Hospice helps make all of this happen. “Hospice comes in and gives you the resources to be comfortable and die without fear,” she says.

Traditionally in W.Va., children settle near their parents, their children settle near them, their children settle near them, and so on for generations. Brittany thinks family oriented culture is what makes in-home hospice care so prevalent in W.Va.

“We do take care of our mothers and fathers,” she says. Pride emanates from her body and voice. Brittany comes from a family of West Virginians, and plans to continue that tradition.

As much as hospice is for the patients, it also is for the families. Education is a key factor in helping families deal with the grieving process. Hospice nurses provide access to social workers and counselors who help with bereavement. They get to know the families, something that doesn’t happen in a regular hospital.

With her warm smile, twinkling eyes, and girlish-giggle, Brittany is a personable woman. The close touch hospice allows appeals to her. “With hospice, you remember their names, their family, the things they like; you don’t necessarily get that when you work in a hospital.”

Think about how many patients a hospital nurse sees in a week, a month, a year. There is minimal room for a personal touch.

Constant dealings with death could wear on a person, but Brittany doesn’t think it will on her. She is positive and sunny, always looking for the silver lining.

As a hospice nurse, she’ll have to help carry to deceased patient to the funeral hearse. The plus side? “You’ll become great friends with the funeral home people.”

With no shame, she begins to laugh at her own joke. Her eyes are doing their signature twinkle. Her whole body’s shaking. A rosy-pinkness spreads over her pale, freckled cheeks.

Catching her breath, she says, “Sometimes hospice nurses can be put to the wayside. They’re not saving a life. But you make an impact on their lives. It’s a blessing and an honor to spend someone’s dying days with them.”

With that, she smiles. Friendly, inviting and warm as an August afternoon in southern W.Va., the smile could brighten any day.

Even a dying day.