I just heard on our local NPR station that state funding for hospice care is facing severe cuts, and I thought maybe if I told my Mom's story people could see what they would lose if this should become a nationwide trend. My Mom and those of us who loved her were fortunate in many ways, and one of those was to have the sevices of an excllent Hospice orginaztion during the last months of her life.
She was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in May of last year and had surgery in June. Her recovery in the hospital was brutal - days spent drinking and eating nothing, tubes inserted everywhere, but she always insisted on putting on her makeup before she did her required walking down the hospital corridor. When she finally got home, she made remarkable progress, gradually building her strength until she could walk the three hundred uphill yards to my house, slap the garage, and go home to have her "tea". We were all confident that she would make a full recovery. We were wrong. In late July we took her to the emergency room (another whole diary) with severe abdominal pain. Another surgery to remove the blockage, an ostomy, and bad news.
I think this may be the hardest part of this whole process - admitting that there be no outcome in which your loved one will be with you in the immediate future. My mother faced this immediately. She would assure her doctors, "My goodness, if you are 80 years old and haven't come to terms with your mortality, you're in pretty bad shape!" Having been through the death of my father (another diary), she was determined to die at home if at all possible. We all agreed to begin hospice care as soon as it could be arranged so that would be possible.
So she came home. She was able to afford sitters round the clock, and most of these became her dear friends. At five o'clock sharp, I would show up to pour the "tea" AKA Kentucky Bourbon. The wonderful lady who looked after her at night resisted Mom's invitations to join us for a while, but we eventually wore her down. This was a wonderful hour. We all told stories - Mom was a southern racaunteur of the old style, and I have a few family stories of my own. Joann would chime in with stories of her brood, and we would laugh and talk until it was time for supper. One night we traded stories aboutour children's car wrecks and speeding tickets until we were laughing so hard it hurt. Her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren came to see her, as did her many friends and former students. She came to Thanksgiving Dinner at our house and held her three week old great grandson while all the rest of us stood around her for a picture. She was failing, but beaming. She had a siezure on Dec.15 and lapsed into a coma like state. She died peacefully in her bed in her own home with her family around her on Dec. 17.
This beautiful, peaceful death, as much as it was deserved, would not have been possible but for the many services provided by the hospice team. They were always on call and always eager to provide help. Pain medication was available whenever it was needed, and on call nurses were there to talk us through any problems. Their social worker offered counseling to anyone who needed it and often made special trips to deliver medical supplies. Her case nurse stayed with her for her last day and helped us through what came after.
Now I hear that funding for hospice care is going to be cut because of budget constraints and my heart goes out to those families who won't get the kind of care that mine did. Their loved ones will spend their final days in sterile hospital rooms getting tests and procedures that may prolong their lives for a few days, but will increase their pain, and, incidentally, cost thousands of dollars. Surely this is not an example of the best health care system in the world.