The Bridge to Forever

Hospice is a word from which most people shrink.  It brings to mind images of the dying and of death.  Mortality is anathema to society today.  Our youth obsessed culture prefers discussing new ways to stave off wrinkles, not to mention the grim reaper.  But why must the reaper be grim?  Why must we fear death and dying?

Perhaps because it reminds us of all that we will one day miss.  Perhaps it is the unknown which we humans fear most.  Being sad is not something to which we aspire.  However, there is a wonderful organization that looks death calmly in the face and helps those whose loved ones are terminally ill.  The National Hospice and Palliative Care Organization compassionately and caringly eases the transition from life into death.

I have personal experience with this organization as my father, Larry Merck, died at the Hospice Atlanta center in Atlanta, Georgia.  He was diagnosed six months prior with stage four gastro-esophageal cancer.  The oncologist tried his best, but to no avail.  My father was seventy years old.  He fought those six months.  He accepted treatments that previously he was unsure he wanted.  But when faced with leaving his children and grandchildren, he did not let anything stand between him and life.  Unfortunately, the cancer won.  It was a difficult time in our family’s life.

Seeing him in and out of the hospital over the course of April to October 2008 was perhaps the most difficult.  Hospitals are dedicated to the living, and as such refuse to give up on the dying.  I completely understand this and am grateful to St. Joseph’s Hospital in Atlanta for their support and dedication.  However, watching my father in the hospital was like watching death peek out from a determined mask of life.  There is no real peace in hospitals.

My grandfather died in a different hospital in Atlanta.  The circumstances were different and I was with him when he passed.  I did not want my father to suffer the way my grandfather had.  When we realized that there was no hope, my family and I drove up from Florida.

I toured the Hospice Atlanta facility, as my sisters were at work.  The doctors, nurses and other staff were friendly and open and caring and loving.  They understood that this was a difficult decision.  I found myself surprised and at peace at Hospice.  Fearing a nursing-home-like institution with groaning patients and the smell of disinfectant masking unimaginable odors, I was pleased to find a beautiful, almost spa-like place.  Gardens and patios were accessible from almost every room.  And the rooms themselves were better than many hotels I have visited.  I knew this was the place.

My sisters, Susan, Karen and I knew that Daddy wanted to die at home.  Unfortunately, this was not a viable option.  My mother is still living, but suffers from a personality disorder.  She did not adequately take care of him throughout his illness.  In fact, it was Susan who cared for him in the evenings and during the night.  And Susan was working sixty hour weeks at the time.  Karen and I were grateful that Susan still lived at home.  We knew Daddy was taken care of that way.

Also, Daddy was proud.  Not proud in a bad sense, but we always knew that he did not want any of his kids to handle certain aspects of his care.  He and his brothers and sisters had to completely take care of his parents prior to their deaths.  He knew that his father had hated that.  Susan would not mind doing this for Daddy, but he would.  After discussing the facility with Susan and Karen, we decided that I should go to the hospital and talk to Daddy.  When I told him about how beautiful and serene the hospice center was, he decided to go.

Unfortunately, my family and I had to go back to Florida, but Susan and Karen were with him when he – as hospice so aptly terms it – “transitioned.”  They say that he went peacefully and the staff were kind and helpful, even after he was gone.

I cannot say enough about the good that Hospice does.  They fill a void in a death-denying society with love, care and concern.  The Hospice workers face death on a daily basis, and they realize that it is nothing to fear.  Hospice acts as a bridge between life and death, and they allow the families they service to see that there is nothing grim in it.

Tags: Hospice Atlanta, National Hospice and Palliative Care Organization