hospital to hospice

Dad can not come home right now... and he can't stay at the hospital any longer.
The doctor refuses (well thats strong because we've agreed as well) to believe that
my father can improve in the hospital setting.
They transferred my father to hospice last night.
Unfortunately the amount of oxygen he needs to breath properly
cannot be administered in the home setting.

St Frances, a hospital in Trenton, has a good hospice unit.
(Can a Czech person translate the word for hospice? many of my Czech friends have asked)
They will care for him
give him more morphine
focus on his body sores
talk to him more
stick pins in him less (for example, they will give him morphine under the tongue instead of through an IV)

There will be no more antibiotics given.
At this point they do more harm then good
my father's body wont respond to them

I like St Francis

while I lived in Italy I visited Assisi and the small... enclave outside of the center on a hill were St Frances lived in.... the 12th century??? I think...
A very interesting fellow
He brought nature into Catholicism

Born wealthy Francis later gave up everything... I think his idea was that only the... poor (but he means people with nothing... not necessarily living a "poor" life... like growing your food instead of buying it... well like Ghandi) could be close to God. He also found God in nature. It is believed he could speak with animals. At some point I think his palms mysteriously began to bleed as Jesus' hands on the cross.
He wrote poetry and most of it honored god through honoring nature.

Here is one of his poems... I don't love this translation. When the poem was translated to me by a good friend... it was beautiful and simple and not so flowery. There are certainly less Italian words than the translated English ones here but it gives you an idea:


Most high, all-powerful, all good, Lord!
All praise is yours, all glory, all honor
And all blessing.
To you alone, Most High, do they belong.
No mortal lips are worthy
To pronounce your name.

All praise be yours, my Lord, through all that you have made,
And first my lord Brother Sun,
Who brings the day; and light you give to us through him.
How beautiful is he, how radiant in all his splendor!
Of you, Most High, he bears the likeness.

All praise be yours, my Lord, through Sister Moon and Stars;
In the heavens you have made them, bright
And precious and fair.

All praise be yours, My Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air,
And fair and stormy, all the weather's moods,
By which you cherish all that you have made.

All praise be yours, my Lord, through Sister Water,
So useful, lowly, precious and pure.

All praise be yours, my Lord, through Brother Fire,
Through whom you brighten up the night.
How beautiful is he, how gay! Full of power and strength.

All praise be yours, my Lord, through Sister Earth, our mother,
Who feeds us in her sovereignty and produces
Various fruits with colored flowers and herbs.

All praise be yours, my Lord, through those who grant pardon
For love of you; through those who endure
Sickness and trial.
Happy those who endure in peace,
By you, Most High, they will be crowned.

All praise be yours, my Lord, through Sister Death,
From whose embrace no mortal can escape.
Woe to those who die in mortal sin!
Happy those She finds doing your will!
The second death can do no harm to them.
Praise and bless my Lord, and give him thanks,
And serve him with great humility.