Hospice

I've been struggling with a decision for the past few weeks and am sincerely at a loss.

The Hospice organization I've been volunteering for was an hour drive each way, so add in the 3-4 hours I put in and we're talking 5-6 hours of a Saturday eaten up. Of course, it's eaten up for a worthy cause, but considering the fact that I work between 50-60 hours a week, I've become less and less eager to spend my Saturday there.

Compound that by the fact that they're so behind on calls, that they've asked us to quit calling the folks whose addresses we have, and only call the ones whose addresses are missing. It's been my experience that those whose addresses are missing are usually not primary family members (they are friends/neighbors/health care workers). I made those calls the last time I was there and there was absolutely NO satisfaction in it whatsoever. I couldn't even find the drive to stay for more than 2 hours because I felt like I was just an address collector, rather than be a shoulder to someone in emotional need.

I haven't been there in about a month, due to moving to a new house and, truthfully, I'm just not motivated anymore.

After we moved, I found a Hospice organization literally 5 minutes from my house. I called them and they seemed excited to talk to me, so went to meet in person yesterday. They're smack in the middle of their training, so have invited me to sit in today and next Saturday while I (and they!) make a decision.

The decision seems simple, really. Five minutes from home and, shoot, I could put in a couple hours a week during the week and have my weekends free.

But I feel like I'm bailing on my current Hospice organization. I *love* the volunteer coordinators and the counselors that I work with. I feel horrible that I'm bailing at a time that they're already behind. But honestly? My fingers can't seem to type the email message to say I'm coming in "this Saturday". It fills me with dread because all I can think about is how much I need to do here at the house and how the prime part of Saturday will be eaten up, just to collect addresses.

I guess I need to send an email to the counselor and tell her how I feel. That would be a step in the right direction. Maybe if I'm forthcoming with her about what I'm thinking of doing, it'll make the pathway clear to make that decision.

I really don't like letting people down. That's the bottom line. But, I also have to do what is right for me.

There were about 20 people in the Hospice training session on Saturday, four of which were college students. The college students were there to earn credit for community service; a part of their graduation requirements. I always think that it’s interesting when young people choose Hospice for their community service credits. I can’t say that I thought about those sorts of things at their age. I was a candy-striper for a while when I was 16, but that was because I thought I might meet cute young doctors.

About 15 minutes into training, two young people walked into the group. I’m guessing they were about 17 and 18, and were brother and sister. They walked in while we were going around the room and having people share what brought them to volunteer for Hospice. The college kids all said that they were there for the community service credits and I was expecting to hear that from the siblings. I was wrong.

The brother spoke first. He said that he was there because when his grandfather was dying, he shared a hospital room with another elderly man. He said that nobody ever came to visit that other man and it made him very sad. He went on to share that after his grandfather died, he and his sister wondered about that other man and they still think about him to this day. He said that this is why they decided to volunteer for Hospice. They wanted to do what they could to keep someone from dying alone like that man in their grandfather’s hospital room.

Wow. I was completely blown away by the compassion of this young man and his sister.

It got me to thinking about how we truly do not know the things that motivate people to do what they do. I think it’s very easy to project our own life experiences and belief systems onto people, and often we do not get the opportunity to find out how wrong we are.

I’m so glad that I got to hear what this young man was thinking. It gives me hope for the next generation.

As usual, my time making Hospice calls was well spent on Saturday. I've mentioned before that before I start making calls, I make the intention that I will KNOW beyond a doubt which call will be my last. I've seen way too many situations where the timing of my call was perfect for the person on the other end of the line, and so I want to make absolutely sure that I don't leave before that 'special' call is made.

The special call on Saturday lasted about 1.5 hours, and there was no doubt in my mind that this 83 year old woman needed a call that day.

I'm going to be sketchy about a few details, because I want to ensure that I'm in keeping with HIPAA guidelines.

The call started out like all typical calls, except for the holiday bit:

RisibleGirl: Hello, may I speak with [client]?
Client: This is she
RisibleGirl: Hello [client], this is [RisibleGirl] calling from [my hospice organization]. I'm just calling to check in with you to see how you've been doing the past few months, and to offer you some extra support since this was your first holiday season without [Hospice patient]
Client: Well, I've been OK.

I was then silent for a while. I've found this to be key in getting people to continue talking.

After a few seconds of silence, she shared with me that this was her deceased child's (not our Hospice patient) birthday and she was very sad that day. I asked her if she would like to talk about it for a while, and she accepted my offer.

We talked about her child's birth, and how it was so different from her other child's birth. We talked about how he died many, many years ago, and how she and her husband (our Hospice patient) would go visit his grave every Sunday. We talked about how her husband is buried next to him and there's a space for her when her time comes.

Eventually, we talked about her relationship with our patient- her beloved husband. They were high school sweethearts who grew up, had children, and grew old in the same town.

She shared lots of stories about their dating years; how they were jitterbug champions and continued dancing every week at the local town hall until her husband started suffering from Alzheimer's three years ago.

It was so fun to listen to all of the things that they did back in the 40's, and I could tell that she was enjoying herself in re-visiting the past.

She then told me about the last time she visited her husband. He'd had no concept of who she was for about two years, but she visited him three times a week anyway. This last visit was a special one. It was their 62nd wedding anniversary.

She brought balloons and a big sign reading, "Happy anniversary to [client] and [Hospice patient]". She said that about twenty minutes into the visit, he looked at her with a look of recognition; something she hadn't seen in years. Then just as quickly as it came, that spark left.

Holding back the tears, I offered to her that she was given quite a gift by her husband. She acknowledged that this was indeed a gift, before sharing the rest of her story.

Her husband died the very next day.

I truly believe that something within his sub-conscious kept him going until he was able to give her this good-bye gift. Just another testament in how much control we humans have over our death experiences, whether we consciously know it or not.

She buried him in his lettermans jacket; something she'd been wearing frequently after he'd been placed in a nursing home. Even though it brought her comfort to wear the jacket, she knew it was special to him.

We talked more after that; things like how she now danced with her girlfriends, how she is still best friends with her girlfriend from first grade, town history and other chit-chat. By the end of the call, she was a very different person than the one I spoke with in the beginning of the call.

When I hung up the phone, I knew that it was time to go home. I felt that I'd lightened her load that day, and in return I was able to hear an up close and personal Nicholas Sparks-type story.

I can't imagine a better ending.

April, over at Adventures of a Teen Sleuth commented "I need to put more thought and more of myself into my own volunteer work". I started to reply back to her about how I got into this line of volunteer work, but decided to post about it instead. Maybe posting about how I landed with Hospice might inspire someone else out there to find something that they can do to make a difference.

Five years or so ago, I wasn't doing anything outside of work, family obligations and social life. In other words, I wasn't really looking outside of my own cocoon to see what contributions I could make outside of my small world.

Around that time, I went to lunch with a good friend of mine. He'd always impressed me by his gentle nature and soft-spoken manner. He is smart, articulate and best of all, he enjoyed what a geek I am. He nor my husband know this, but he was most of the blueprint for the type of man I decided I wanted to marry.

During lunch, he shared with me his excitement over just coming back from visiting an African orphanage he was helping to build. He shared stories about the children that were heartbreaking, but I also felt hope because he was part of a group that was there to help. He's still involved in this group and has been back there many times. Last year when he got married, he and his wife even requested that donations be made to this group in lieu of wedding presents.

After our lunch together, I could not stop thinking about his contributions. I started to think about the fact that I wasn't doing anything really worth while outside of raising my two boys. But they were almost full grown at this point and I knew that it was time I got out there and did something.

That weekend I decided to do a google search on volunteer work in my area. I had no idea what I was searching for, but felt that I'd know it when I saw it. I also wanted it to be something that would challenge me. I typed in "volunteer + [my city and state]". There were several hits, but one jumped out at me, "There are many different volunteer opportunities available at [name of first Hospice I joined] Hospice Services: Patient Care Volunteers, Inpatient Care, Bereavement, Support Services, Animal Assisted Therapy, and Compassionate Touch......"

I sat back and thought about it for a while. I'd been a candy striper and also had a short stint volunteering in a nursing home when I was a teen, but I knew that this would be much different. The people in Hospice are actively dying. Could I handle that?

I don't know why, but I felt that I could. I also felt that this was something I could do that not a lot of other people could emotionally handle. This made it feel even more important to me because I felt that this was a volunteer organization specifically in need of people like me.

I signed up for the orientation and was overwhelmed with the feeling that this was indeed the right choice. I was in patient care for the first Hospice organization, but grief and bereavement had called out to me from even back then. So, when I moved and was settled into my newly married life, I looked once again online to find a Hospice organization close to me and signed up.

I often thank my friend for getting me motivated to join Hospice. It wasn't his intention at lunch that day to be a volunteer zealot, but I firmly believe that without him I'd never gone down the path toward Hospice.

So, as FTS wrote in my comments, I've found my niche.

Indeed I have.

I'm one of two volunteers making grief calls for my Hospice organization. The other gal comes in once a week for 2 hours and I go in every other week for four hours. When I started making calls, we were about six months behind because they had NO volunteers. Now we're about three months behind.

Caught up would mean that we're making calls to folks who have lost someone at least a month ago. Grieving folks are too caught up in legalities and other things to really be able to step back and *feel* right away, so we are told to wait at least six weeks before contacting them. Of course, they get a call right away from the real counselor to ensure that they understand all of the resources available to them should they need it.

My grief counselor originally told us in training that it's difficult to put in more than two hours at a time because it's emotionally exhausting to be so present for people that are actively grieving. Sometimes I find that to be true, but mostly find that I'm just getting warmed up around the two hour mark. I don't watch the clock. Instead I make a firm intention that I'll know when I've made my last call. My signal is when I hang up the phone, sit back, and say "wow" out loud. Those are the calls that make me really think for a few days. I imagine sometimes that when I'm thinking about them, they can feel it even though they might not know where that feeling comes from.

No matter how long I've been doing this, that first call of the day still frightens me. It reminds me of when I used to sing for a living. That first song was the scariest, but once I got that out of the way, the rest was easy. Just like in my old 'career', I look for an easy file (song) to call (sing) first. It's my warm up call.

Yesterday I decided that I was going to put in as many hours as I could tolerate, because I wanted to reach out to as many people as possible due to the holidays. I also was to call the most recent files. Actually, the counselor I work with asked me to mix it up, but I just kept going with the recent files.

Typically when I get voicemail, I leave a message that 'we' called and let them know that we are available to them as a resource and then leave the number to call should they need additional support. The message sometimes varies depending on what I've read in the file. Then the file is put away. Sometimes I'll look through a file and the notes tell me that this would be inappropriate because this is someone that might need to talk. In that case, I won't leave a message. I'll just try again at a later date.

Yesterday, I decided to treat all the files that way. If there was no answer, I didn't leave a message. Our phone number is unavailable to caller ID, so there would be no record that I called. I felt that getting a trite message that we called, would make these newly grieving people feel abandoned.

I pulled all of the October files and started making my calls. I spent over five hours making phone calls yesterday and was able to get through most of the files. I only ended up talking to 16 people, but, with the exception of a couple of calls, they were really good calls where we really connected. Although I didn't stop there, one of the calls did make me sit back and say "wow" because not only had they lost our Hospice patient, they lost a child to an auto accident a short time ago. At Christmas time. That sort of thing sure makes you take stock of what's important in your life.

It was getting dark, and I was losing steam come the five hour mark, so I decided that I wouldn't be truly present if I tried to reach out to any more people on this day.

The counselor on duty asked me what I learned that day. I told him that I learned that the phone calls to the newly grieving people are much different than my normal calls. The newly grieving, although we connected, don't quite connect as much as the folks who are three or more months down the road. I believe that it might be because the newly grieving are still getting the phone calls and cards and support. The folks whom I normally call have most likely seen a drop in calls and support. In addition to support, I give them an opportunity to tell their story after they've had time to really think about what has happened in their life.

It really did give me a good perspective on the grief process, as varied as it may be. It also makes me want to go back and call those folks that I would have normally called. I sit here today thinking about them and wondering how they are doing through the holidays. I wish I had more time to give so I could reach out and let them know that someone was thinking about them. All I can do is hope that somehow my thoughts going out to these perfect strangers bring even a little bit of comfort until I can actually call them.

It's times like this that I wish I wasn't so hell bent on trying to save the world. It frustrates me that I'm just one person with limited time resources. It makes me sad that there are people out there who are in need of support and they may not be getting it this holiday season.

If you know someone who has lost a loved one this year, please do something for me. Give them a call, or send them a note to let them know you're thinking about them. Don't worry about what to say, because if it's from the heart, it'll be the right thing. If you need help with what to say, . I'd be more than happy to help you.

Tell them that RisibleGirl sent you.