Charlotte Beimel
March 2025
Charlotte
Beimel
,
RN
Hospice
Penn Highlands Healthcare at Home
Saint Marys
United States
Charlotte Beimel is definitely a nurse that my family and I will never forget! I will tell you why shortly, but first I must give you a little history. I first met Charlotte about 7 years ago. My wife and I were invited to a fire under the stars at my wife's sister's house. Their neighbors and very good friends were there. Charlotte and her husband, were also there. Because we walked in different circles due to our age, my wife and I were not really aware of the strong bond of friendship between her sister, the rest of the group and Barbara.
We all enjoyed that first fire together, as well as the many fires that followed, watching the fire glow, eating smores, chips and shelled peanuts, and having a few beers or sodas. The men sort of congregated together, talking and socializing, as did the women. I guess that is why Charlotte got to know my wife pretty well, and they became friends. So much for my wife and I's former relationship with and knowledge of Charlotte.
Charlotte would oftentimes get a cellphone call and abruptly leave our campfires. When I asked why Charlotte left, I was told that she was a hospice nurse and that she left because one of her patients needed help or had passed. Until then, I had no idea that Charlotte was a hospice nurse. As time went on, I became aware of just how dedicated and unselfish a hospice nurse Charlotte was. Always ready to leave what she was doing at the drop of a dime and rush to help a person in need.
Years before my wife was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and needed hospice care, I often noticed a woman coming to visit our divorced and estranged neighbor, who lived directly across the road from us. This woman had lived alone and was by no means healthy, had a hard time even walking, and didn’t have much income. My wife and I would do what we could for her, often helping with such chores, and it just so happened that the woman we saw visiting and helping her, too, was none other than Charlotte!
I discovered that Charlotte was taking her shopping, helping her get her groceries, buy clothes, or pick up the prescriptions she needed! Charlotte was doing this on her own free time. Knowing Charlotte now, I suspect that she was also helping her do a little housework, as well as caring for her medical needs as much as possible.
My wife started to have abdominal pain across the bottom of her ribcage in late October – early November, 2023, but being the strong-willed person that she was, decided to tough it out, hoping it would get better and go away. But she knew something was seriously wrong – she just didn’t want to find out what. She was accustomed to having bad things happen to her, she had breast cancer in 1992 followed by radiation and chemotherapy, she had a colon resection in February 2002, and she had a kidney transplant in March of 2002. That kidney transplant date was the origin of my wife’s so-called “lucky number 39”! I asked my wife time and time again to let me take her to our family doctor or to the emergency room until she finally gave in and let me take her to the ER on in February of 2024.
The ER doctor consulted her, gave her a physical exam, and ordered blood tests. He later ordered a CT scan, followed by the diagnosis – cancer of the liver! The days of the week following my wife’s diagnosis were consumed with making arrangements for an MRI, an MRCP, a sonogram, and a liver biopsy, as well as an appointment with an Oncologist. On a Sunday evening in February, my daughter called me and asked, “Dad, is Mom yellow?” To which I responded, “The color of French’s yellow mustard?” She was severely jaundiced! My daughter immediately told me, “Pack your bags, we’re taking her to the hospital!”
We arrived at the hospital and the ER staff went to work giving my wife a complete work-up, including all kinds of imaging tests. She was admitted to the hospital with a diagnosis of ‘stage IV pancreatic cancer with metastasis to the colon and liver.’ On a Tuesday in February, an ERCP was performed, but failed because the doctor was unable to gain access to her bile duct. On a Thursday in February, a duodenal stent was implanted so she would be able to eat soft foods and be comfortable until a stent could be placed in her bile duct at a later date, using the duodenal stent to gain access. That duodenal stent allowed a successful ERCP procedure to be performed on an outpatient basis in late February.
The Doctor who implanted the bile duct stent gave my wife 2 months to a year to live, stating that her cancer was very aggressive and had already totally infiltrated the duodenal stent that had just been implanted 12 days earlier. We brought her home to die. Against the wishes of my daughters, I was determined to take care of my dear wife of almost 55 years. While I enrolled her in hospice in March, it was probably not until late March or early April, that I agreed to allow a hospice nurse to visit. We started out with two nurse visits per week, intending to increase the number of visits based on how she was doing. My daughters were relieved!
When Charlotte heard that we had enrolled my wife in hospice and was dying of pancreatic cancer, she asked her supervisor to be placed on her care list. Charlotte was the first hospice nurse to visit my wife, and came a couple of times a week to see her, whether she was on the clock officially or on her own time. She would always call before coming to our house to make sure we were okay with her proposed visit time, and when she came into our house, she always had a smile on her face and a friendly greeting.
She’d listen to my wife's heart and breathing and take her temperature and weight, talking to her the whole time to make her feel comfortable. She would review her medications with me and my daughters (two of whom are nurses), and based on her perception of my wife's health and needs at the time, would make recommendations for increasing her medications or eliminating some of them as her cancer advanced. She would always inquire if we had enough medications on hand, especially the pain medications, and would always order more of the medications she thought might be needed long-term. Charlotte had me keep a close count of how many of each medication I had on hand, and I had to update the Excel spreadsheet I created so I could keep up-to-date with which medications I had to give my wife and what time of day to give them to her.
My wife was determined to look her best despite the cancer that was systematically destroying her body! I had to take her to see her hairdresser in April so she could have her hair shampooed, and again late April to get it colored. It was no easy task for her to keep those two appointments. She had to walk down our steps at home and get in the car. She had to get out of the car at the hairdresser’s place and walk down a long set of steps to get to her basement, where her shop was. And, she had to reverse the process each time to get back home. What a feat of determination for a dying woman! I don’t know if anyone else could have done what she did!
Her hairdresser was simply amazed! After my wife got her hair colored, she grew really weak and her hair got messed up from lying in bed, so Charlotte had to make arrangements for a nurse’s aide to come to the house and style her hair. She also made arrangements to have a nurse’s aide come to bathe her. Charlotte would always ask if we had any questions about my wife’s health and would answer any and all questions my daughters or I had. She was always truthful and straight-forward about what, from her previous experience with the dying, she thought my wife's status was.
I can clearly recall Charlotte telling me that she felt my wife had about two weeks to live. I suspect she was preparing me for the inevitable! I thought to myself, ‘How does she know this for sure?’ I took what she said with a grain of salt! Then, come mid-April, Charlotte came to the house one day and checked my wife’s stats. She then told me and my three daughters who were there with me that she thought that today was going to be the day that my wife was going to pass. She said, “I don’t know when exactly, but it is going to be sometime today.” Once again, I had to ask myself, "How does she know this for sure?"
Later that evening, my youngest daughter was sitting in bed beside my wife. My other daughter was in the bathroom getting ready for bed, and my other daughter had just left to drive home. I went in to sit with my wife and daughter. All I ever wanted through this tragic time in our lives was to be there for my wife when she passed. When I sat beside her, I quickly realized that her labored breathing had disappeared and her breaths were weak, far apart, peaceful, and almost silent.
I realized that the end was very, very near, for I had read the literature from hospice that described how my wife would die. I ran out of the bedroom and told my other daughter to call the one who had just left and tell her to come back home right away. We were all there when my wife passed. We waited a little while before I called Charlotte. She was here in about 15 minutes, giving all of us hugs and her sympathy. She asked if we wanted a little time with my wife, and we all said yes, so she waited until we had regained our composure somewhat and then listened for a heartbeat and, finding none, pronounced my wife dead.
I will always remember Charlotte’s professionalism and the empathy and compassion she expressed for my wife and me, from her first visit to the night of her passing, and even to this very day. I will forever think of Charlotte as my Florence Nightingale! To this very day, I am quite certain that it was exactly two weeks to the day that Charlotte first told me that my wife would pass in two weeks. I will also never forget my grade school and high school sweetheart, my best friend; my wife for 54+ years. We would have been married for 55 years had she lived to August 23rd, 2024. My wife was 76 years, 1 month and 1 day old when she went to see her Lord and Creator!
We all enjoyed that first fire together, as well as the many fires that followed, watching the fire glow, eating smores, chips and shelled peanuts, and having a few beers or sodas. The men sort of congregated together, talking and socializing, as did the women. I guess that is why Charlotte got to know my wife pretty well, and they became friends. So much for my wife and I's former relationship with and knowledge of Charlotte.
Charlotte would oftentimes get a cellphone call and abruptly leave our campfires. When I asked why Charlotte left, I was told that she was a hospice nurse and that she left because one of her patients needed help or had passed. Until then, I had no idea that Charlotte was a hospice nurse. As time went on, I became aware of just how dedicated and unselfish a hospice nurse Charlotte was. Always ready to leave what she was doing at the drop of a dime and rush to help a person in need.
Years before my wife was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and needed hospice care, I often noticed a woman coming to visit our divorced and estranged neighbor, who lived directly across the road from us. This woman had lived alone and was by no means healthy, had a hard time even walking, and didn’t have much income. My wife and I would do what we could for her, often helping with such chores, and it just so happened that the woman we saw visiting and helping her, too, was none other than Charlotte!
I discovered that Charlotte was taking her shopping, helping her get her groceries, buy clothes, or pick up the prescriptions she needed! Charlotte was doing this on her own free time. Knowing Charlotte now, I suspect that she was also helping her do a little housework, as well as caring for her medical needs as much as possible.
My wife started to have abdominal pain across the bottom of her ribcage in late October – early November, 2023, but being the strong-willed person that she was, decided to tough it out, hoping it would get better and go away. But she knew something was seriously wrong – she just didn’t want to find out what. She was accustomed to having bad things happen to her, she had breast cancer in 1992 followed by radiation and chemotherapy, she had a colon resection in February 2002, and she had a kidney transplant in March of 2002. That kidney transplant date was the origin of my wife’s so-called “lucky number 39”! I asked my wife time and time again to let me take her to our family doctor or to the emergency room until she finally gave in and let me take her to the ER on in February of 2024.
The ER doctor consulted her, gave her a physical exam, and ordered blood tests. He later ordered a CT scan, followed by the diagnosis – cancer of the liver! The days of the week following my wife’s diagnosis were consumed with making arrangements for an MRI, an MRCP, a sonogram, and a liver biopsy, as well as an appointment with an Oncologist. On a Sunday evening in February, my daughter called me and asked, “Dad, is Mom yellow?” To which I responded, “The color of French’s yellow mustard?” She was severely jaundiced! My daughter immediately told me, “Pack your bags, we’re taking her to the hospital!”
We arrived at the hospital and the ER staff went to work giving my wife a complete work-up, including all kinds of imaging tests. She was admitted to the hospital with a diagnosis of ‘stage IV pancreatic cancer with metastasis to the colon and liver.’ On a Tuesday in February, an ERCP was performed, but failed because the doctor was unable to gain access to her bile duct. On a Thursday in February, a duodenal stent was implanted so she would be able to eat soft foods and be comfortable until a stent could be placed in her bile duct at a later date, using the duodenal stent to gain access. That duodenal stent allowed a successful ERCP procedure to be performed on an outpatient basis in late February.
The Doctor who implanted the bile duct stent gave my wife 2 months to a year to live, stating that her cancer was very aggressive and had already totally infiltrated the duodenal stent that had just been implanted 12 days earlier. We brought her home to die. Against the wishes of my daughters, I was determined to take care of my dear wife of almost 55 years. While I enrolled her in hospice in March, it was probably not until late March or early April, that I agreed to allow a hospice nurse to visit. We started out with two nurse visits per week, intending to increase the number of visits based on how she was doing. My daughters were relieved!
When Charlotte heard that we had enrolled my wife in hospice and was dying of pancreatic cancer, she asked her supervisor to be placed on her care list. Charlotte was the first hospice nurse to visit my wife, and came a couple of times a week to see her, whether she was on the clock officially or on her own time. She would always call before coming to our house to make sure we were okay with her proposed visit time, and when she came into our house, she always had a smile on her face and a friendly greeting.
She’d listen to my wife's heart and breathing and take her temperature and weight, talking to her the whole time to make her feel comfortable. She would review her medications with me and my daughters (two of whom are nurses), and based on her perception of my wife's health and needs at the time, would make recommendations for increasing her medications or eliminating some of them as her cancer advanced. She would always inquire if we had enough medications on hand, especially the pain medications, and would always order more of the medications she thought might be needed long-term. Charlotte had me keep a close count of how many of each medication I had on hand, and I had to update the Excel spreadsheet I created so I could keep up-to-date with which medications I had to give my wife and what time of day to give them to her.
My wife was determined to look her best despite the cancer that was systematically destroying her body! I had to take her to see her hairdresser in April so she could have her hair shampooed, and again late April to get it colored. It was no easy task for her to keep those two appointments. She had to walk down our steps at home and get in the car. She had to get out of the car at the hairdresser’s place and walk down a long set of steps to get to her basement, where her shop was. And, she had to reverse the process each time to get back home. What a feat of determination for a dying woman! I don’t know if anyone else could have done what she did!
Her hairdresser was simply amazed! After my wife got her hair colored, she grew really weak and her hair got messed up from lying in bed, so Charlotte had to make arrangements for a nurse’s aide to come to the house and style her hair. She also made arrangements to have a nurse’s aide come to bathe her. Charlotte would always ask if we had any questions about my wife’s health and would answer any and all questions my daughters or I had. She was always truthful and straight-forward about what, from her previous experience with the dying, she thought my wife's status was.
I can clearly recall Charlotte telling me that she felt my wife had about two weeks to live. I suspect she was preparing me for the inevitable! I thought to myself, ‘How does she know this for sure?’ I took what she said with a grain of salt! Then, come mid-April, Charlotte came to the house one day and checked my wife’s stats. She then told me and my three daughters who were there with me that she thought that today was going to be the day that my wife was going to pass. She said, “I don’t know when exactly, but it is going to be sometime today.” Once again, I had to ask myself, "How does she know this for sure?"
Later that evening, my youngest daughter was sitting in bed beside my wife. My other daughter was in the bathroom getting ready for bed, and my other daughter had just left to drive home. I went in to sit with my wife and daughter. All I ever wanted through this tragic time in our lives was to be there for my wife when she passed. When I sat beside her, I quickly realized that her labored breathing had disappeared and her breaths were weak, far apart, peaceful, and almost silent.
I realized that the end was very, very near, for I had read the literature from hospice that described how my wife would die. I ran out of the bedroom and told my other daughter to call the one who had just left and tell her to come back home right away. We were all there when my wife passed. We waited a little while before I called Charlotte. She was here in about 15 minutes, giving all of us hugs and her sympathy. She asked if we wanted a little time with my wife, and we all said yes, so she waited until we had regained our composure somewhat and then listened for a heartbeat and, finding none, pronounced my wife dead.
I will always remember Charlotte’s professionalism and the empathy and compassion she expressed for my wife and me, from her first visit to the night of her passing, and even to this very day. I will forever think of Charlotte as my Florence Nightingale! To this very day, I am quite certain that it was exactly two weeks to the day that Charlotte first told me that my wife would pass in two weeks. I will also never forget my grade school and high school sweetheart, my best friend; my wife for 54+ years. We would have been married for 55 years had she lived to August 23rd, 2024. My wife was 76 years, 1 month and 1 day old when she went to see her Lord and Creator!