Comfort Measures Quotes

When I came to this country in 1958, to be a dying patient in a medical hospital was a nightmare. You were put in the last room, furthest away from the nurses' station. You were full of pain, but they wouldn't give you morphine. Nobody told you that you were full of cancer and that it was understandable that you had pain and needed medication.

I'm great at a deathbed. I've never given tranquillisers or psychiatric medicine. I've given love and fun and creativity and passion and hope, and these things ease suffering.

I'm afraid of the dark, so I have a lot of night-lights.

I took prenatal yoga three times a week, including the morning I went into labor. It helped me stay comfortable.

The next five months are grim ones. I always feel sorry to have the summertime change, with the dark evenings closing in mid-afternoon, and will try to lay in some physical comforts these months - the best insurance against gloominess for me.

I tell residents, if you gave me two patients with identical problems, and one of them had family at the bedside with a lot of laughter, plus photos and a quilt from home, and next door was another patient who was alone every time I came by - I'm going to be very nervous about the isolated patient's mental status.

In an emergency, what treatment is given by ear? Words of Comfort.

Always take earplugs and an eye mask. It doesn't matter where you are. Even if you're in the best hotel, if there's road works outside, then you're screwed. So I take earplugs and an eye mask with me wherever I go.

I don't have those superstitious ticks that people have to have something for the road. I like to have good food on the bus, my own pillow, and onesies. Onesies are a must.

A writer doesn't write for his readers, does he? Yet he has to take elementary precautions all the same, to make them comfortable.

I used to work as a volunteer in a hospice, but I don't have any nursing skills or cooking skills or anything, so I was what they call an escort. I would take people to the support groups every night, and I would have to sit sort of on the sidelines so I could take them back to hospice at the end of the meeting.

The prime goal is to alleviate suffering, and not to prolong life. And if your treatment does not alleviate suffering, but only prolongs life, that treatment should be stopped.

I accept the dying process. I would just like to be as healthy as I possibly can at each step and phase along the way.

For months before he passed, my dad would have terrible night sweats, and soak through his sheets, often several times a night. Each time, mom would gently roll him over, replace the sheets, and roll him back - then spend the whole next day washing several sets of sheets, only to repeat the routine each night.

I was the offbeat character that had to kiss the offbeat boys and, ugh, some of the boys they brought in. There was one boyfriend in particular, we had to climb a mountain, and he was just weird and awful, and I hated it. So the producers left a big bag of Hershey Kisses after that taping saying, "Here are some kisses you will actually enjoy. Thanks for doing this." Isn't that so nice?

I bring incense, essential oils, and candles to make my hotel room feel more like home.

You're not too good for the sleep mask-neck pillow combo! You're not too cool for it!