Hospice

When I tell people I’m a hospice volunteer, I frequently get the same response “Wow, that’s got to be really depressing.” I love the look of shock on their faces when I say “No, it’s really fun!” In all honesty, sometimes it is depressing. Sometimes the patients are really sad and down, but that’s a rarity in my experience. Most often, patients are happy to have company and they are still LIVING. They’re still paying attention to world events, talking with their families about upcoming special occasions, and wondering what to eat for dinner. Hospice patients aren’t all that different from the rest of us. The following stories are all examples of the fun I have when visiting hospice patients. I’ll let you be the judge on whether it sounds depressing or not. All names have been changed to protect confidentiality.

I visit Harry on a Tuesday evening, and he’s in a pretty good mood. We sit in his kitchen discussing relationships and marriage. Harry discloses that he’s been married and divorced three times. I’m divorced too, but I rarely share that information. Harry has a very comforting presence though, and I tell him I got divorced a couple years ago. We share some of our favorite memories of being married. Harry suddenly asks if I plan to re-marry someday. I say honestly, “Maybe, I really don’t know.” Harry retorts very matter-of-factly, “You’re young, and a reasonably attractive girl, I mean not the prettiest girl in the world, but not the homeliest either. I’m sure someone will want to marry you again.” I stifle a laugh and thank him for the “compliment.”

Marsha is a 98 year old hospice patient who really does not want to die. She has had health problems for many years and doesn’t believe “now is her time.” She’s been planning her 100th birthday party since she turned 95. I’ve been visiting her for months, and she rarely shows signs of her medical condition. The oxygen tank is the only thing that gives her away. Every week like clock-work, I show up to visit with her and her husband. We have very lively discussions about the US education system, politics, religion, books, relationships and dogs. Each week they show me a picture of the last four dogs they owned. Proud parents of dogs who lived well beyond their expected time, yet still not long enough. I can’t help but draw parallels to their belief their dogs should have lived another 7-8 years, when they’d already doubled their life expectancy; and Marsha has lived well past most humans and yet she still wants 10-15 more years. She has plans to visit Europe and see the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre and Guggenheim. Marsha and her husband are very optimistic. I can only hope I’ll be the same way if I’m blessed enough to live that long.

Suzy is also in her 90’s. She’s the most adorable little old lady I’ve ever seen! She is a tiny woman, not more than 100 pounds. She has long silver hair she keeps in a loose bun, her glasses are clearly from the 1980’s because they are huge round things that take up half her tiny face, and she shuffles from room to room in fluffy slippers. She lives alone way back in the woods with a couple of very old, very obese dogs. Suzy smokes like a chimney and swears like a sailor. There is such incongruence between her appearance and her personality. Her voice is high-pitched yet rough from years of cigarette inhalation. On one of my visits she talks about her ex-husband. Some of the things she shares are hard to hear. I nod along, knowing she may need to talk for her own good, not necessarily because she wants me to respond in a certain way. Suzy has long ceased to shock me with her topics of conversation. Her harsh words and crude humor now seem “normal” to me. Suddenly, she knocks my socks off again by asking “So when did you lose your virginity?”

I thoroughly enjoy my duties as a hospice volunteer! I like learning people’s stories, hearing about their lives and sharing parts of mine when it is appropriate. The connections made with patients are invaluable, and they’ll stick with me for the rest of my life.