Just Breathe Again by Mia Villano

can’t stand up straight. I look like I searchin’ for night crawlers at night, bent down.” Marsha and John both laughed. 
      “Jeannie? It’s me and Hooty. Are you decent?” asked Marsha, walking down the stairs.
      “Come on down here, we’re dressed. What’s a Hooty?” she asked.
      “Hooty, is from the at-home care office,” Marsha laughed. They didn’t like to say hospice in front of Lydia. 
     
      Jeannie went to shake her hand, and knew right away this woman was going to be a blessing for Lydia.
      “Sweetie, you come here and give me a hug. I’m going to be here quite a bit. I ain’t goin’ for no handshake now, you hear? “Jeannie felt her put her arms around her and she smelled like Ivory soap and Bengay. Jeannie offered her coffee, which she accepted, and they sat at the little table in the kitchen area.
      Hooty explained to them what to expect. She told Jeannie there are times when the patient knows there’s no hope, they accepted the fact they will die, and death and acceptance comes quicker than we want. 
      The worst part of the whole experience, and what brought Jeannie to her knees, was when Hooty showed her “the box”, or the “comfort kit”, as hospice called it. The comfort kit was not something she could discuss. Seeing the white box sealed up and labeled with Lydia’s name sent Jeannie in hysterics. She ran to the bathroom and screamed into a towel so no one would hear her cries of complete agony. When she felt she had conquered her misery over the situation, she walked back out to discuss the finalization of her daughter’s life. The box was the last step for a dying patient and when it had to be opened, the end of the road was right around the corner. The box was to be put somewhere not to be opened, or touched, until the Hospice nurse approved. It was needed in order for Lydia to die comfortably.  Inside it was the liquid morphine, Ativan, drops used to treat wet respirations, also known as the death rattle, and valium in case she had a seizure. Hooty explained to them with Lydia, the chances she would need all or any of that was slim. With a brain tumor, she may have a seizure, or she may go in her sleep.
      Lydia woke up and Hooty introduced herself. She didn’t mention hospice. To Lydia, she was a home health nurse. 
      “How many people have you watched die?” asked Lydia
      “A lot. But, we ain’t here to talk about death today. Today, you are alive and it’s a good thing, Miss Lydia. I’m here to make sure you are feeling as well as possible. Are you feeling comfortable?” asked Hooty.
      Lydia nodded her head.
      “Are you sleeping well?”
      Again Lydia nodded and said in a whisper, “Sleeping seems to be all I do.”
      “That’s fine, baby. Sleeping is one of Gods great gifts to us. You sleep as much as you want,” said Hooty, smiling and rubbing her hand.
      “If we have an emergency at night, like I get in a lot of pain or something, does my mom take me to the hospital?” asked Lydia.
      “No, you use the hotline we have for our patients. We know people are better at home and that’s where we want to keep you, Miss Lydia. If it’s the middle of the night, I’ll be here, don’t you worry,” she said.
      Hooty looked at Jeannie as Lydia fell back to sleep.
      “Is there anything else we can do for you today, Miss Jeannie?” she asked. Jeannie was overwhelmed and couldn’t answer. It pained Hooty to see the young ones dying. Over the years she had been doing this, she never got over the young ones dying so soon.    
      “Can you come over here with me? I have somethin for you to sign, baby,” asked Hooty. They walked away from Lydia and over to another area where she couldn’t hear.
      “I need you to sign this paper. The document states with hospice care, there would be no resuscitation. No medical recitation, no intubation, and no respirator. I know it’s hard, suga’.  I know it’s