I work for hospice.  There, I've said it and I can't take it back.  For those of you who say, "What's the big deal?" Kudos!  You are my kind of person.  It's the rest of you that make hospice seem like a dirty word.  You have no idea how many dinner party conversations I've had where someone will turn around and say, "Now, what do you do for work?"  I try to get around the inevitable sudden intake of breath, followed by the awkward silence by just saying that I am a nurse. Often, that works.  I've found, over the years, that people at dinner parties are more interested in hearing themselves talk than other people.

 However, people at dinner parties like to talk.  That's why they are at dinner parties in the first place.  So the first question is usually followed by, " Oh really?  I have a (friend/sister/mother/cousin) who is a (NICU/ICU/Pediatric/Floor/ED) nurse.  What kind of nursing do you do?" At this point, I sigh resignedly and tell them that I was an emergency room nurse but that now I work for hospice.  The sharp intake of breath...the awkward silence.

What follows is one of two things.  One, the person asking looks around wildly for any distraction, makes up an excuse and drifts away into a safer conversation with someone not in hospice. For the rest of night, that person will avoid me like the plague.  My favorite comment?  It was made by my new neighbor when I told her that I had worked in the local ED and had switched to hospice, "Oh really?  That's too bad.  It would have been great to have someone who could get us in to the ED faster."

Two, I am canonized.  "Oh, you must be a saint!  I can't believe that you can do that kind of work.  I could never do it myself.  Ugh, all those dying people?  I couldn't take it! God bless you! Such a saint!"

I really prefer the first reaction to the second.  The first reaction is genuine discomfort, apathy or stupidity.  That I can excuse.  The second is flowery gushiness with no substance.  I am no saint, as my husband can tell you.  I have a temper, am an impatient driver and am terrible at keeping in touch with old friends.  I don't work for hospice because it's about death.  I work for hospice because it's about taking care of people in crisis, the crisis being that they are terminally ill.

While I'm on my soapbox, let's dispel a couple of myths.

Myth Number One- We don't help people kill themselves, nor do we kill them.  We just keep them comfortable with medication, massage, reiki, etc.  We make sure that they are comfortable enough to enjoy their loved ones, keep up with their hobbies or their work as long as they can and relax without the fear of having to be in pain.  Almost all hospice patients have some kind of pain.  They typically have more than enough of their own pain medications in the house to off themselves, not to mention high drug tolerance levels from being on said pain medications.  In my time in hospice, I have never seen anyone make this choice.  I think being comfortable while being terminally ill mitigates the desire to commit suicide.

Myth Number Two- It takes a special kind of person to do this job.  It takes a special kind of person to do ANY job!  Think of how many jobs you worked that you weren't suited for.  Think of how many jobs you were suited for.  Frankly, I think my 16 hour days as a waitress/golf club manager were the worst days of my life, not hospice.  I remember the many ungrateful, privileged and rude patients I dealt with in the ED, who thought that the emergency room was their own private clinic, and thank my lucky stars I don't have to deal with them anymore.  In hospice, I have a great team, meet wonderful families and impact a lot of lives.  Almost all of the patients and families we see are grateful for our services. 

It's only because I work for hospice that I understand that death is a long, long, long process.  No one actually dies in their sleep, but somehow everyone thinks that they are going to.  Studies have shown that only about 12% of Americans will die in their sleep.  Most Americans will face a gradual decline that grows steeper with severity of illness and age.  Bottom line: You're not going to die in your sleep, so plan for it!  You don't know how many times I hear, "I didn't know that it was going to be like this" or "I thought he would just go in his sleep!" or "I didn't know that I was going to have to be this involved." My advice?  Brace yourselves, educate yourselves and be ready to help your loved ones.

Oh, and the next time you meet someone who works for hospice at a dinner party?  Just smile and say something benign like, "That's nice. Do you like it?" We'll thank you for it...

I just read a Facebook post that has me on a tirade.  A friend's brother has a great dog, was a stray that he adopted, that needs a good home. There's picture of this dog posted, which kills me.  She's a beautiful Aussie collie with such sadness in her eyes. Apparently, his fiancee moved in with her cat, and that was it for the dog. No attempt was even made to see if the two would get along.  He "re-homed" her with his renters temporarily...

Keep in mind, he and his fiancee have a huge home that he built himself (He is an architect). Once you adopt an animal, they become part of the family, in my eyes.  You don't just dispose of them because it's not convenient for you to keep them.  Would you get rid of your kid because they were acting up? If there is an extenuating circumstance, find a good home or a no kill shelter.  Not good karma...