It was the best thing for all of us. Here’s why.
I’ve always had close relationships with my parents. My mom and dad got divorced when I was 6, and my mom remarried when I was young, so I really had three parents, not just two.
I went to college near my dad in Philadelphia, and I stayed in the area after graduation, which allowed our relationship to deepen. I’d go to my dad’s house every week for dinner, and we’d have great conversations. And even when I moved to Hoboken, NJ, we talked by phone daily.
My mom and I loved to travel together. She often accompanied me on business trips to visit cities that she hadn’t been to, like Los Angeles and Chicago. After my second dad passed away a few years ago, my mom and I took a trip to London because she’d never traveled abroad before. That trip ignited a desire to travel more together—and to more far away places—I just didn’t know how short-lived that dream would be.
My mom’s illness
In August 2019, my mom was diagnosed with terminal myelodysplastic syndrome, a blood cancer. She went through four rounds of chemotherapy to try to extend her life, but by December 2019, she was struggling. Her oncologist recommended in-home hospice care. When she entered hospice that same month, we expected her to live for three or four months.
I struggled to reconcile how we were supposed to go from planning trips to planning our goodbyes in such a short period of time and worried about what her final days would look like—if she’d be comfortable and well-cared for.
Thankfully, my fears were all quickly put at ease.
An amazing team of hospice nurses swooped into place to care for my mom at her home in Delaware. She had a hospital bed and an oxygen tank brought into her house. My brothers Eric, Michael, and I visited and stayed with her as much as we could, but ultimately weren’t able to be with her full time. Having her nurses there gave my brothers and me a great sense of peace because we knew that our mom was comfortable and cared for.
And then the pandemic struck, and my mom started doing better.
Her prognosis didn’t change, but social distancing suited her. She had no immune system because of her condition; before the pandemic, she couldn’t go anywhere without a mask and gloves. Looking back, we think the combination of hospice care and pandemic life kept my mom from being exposed to germs, which elongated her life.
Her team would joke, “You might actually turn out to be our longest patient,” and my mom kept saying, “I hope I win that award.”
In January 2021, my mom’s health started to decline—by April, things took a turn for the worse. My mom had pneumonia a few times before finally passing away at the end of May. Throughout this difficult period, the hospice nurses came regularly, informing us about my mom’s health when we couldn’t be there.
And even during this phase, hospice was there as a life raft for my family. My mom wasn’t afraid of dying, and she didn’t want us to be, either. So, nurses explained what my mom’s end-of-life care would be like, so we knew what to expect. When the time came, she was able to pass away at home peacefully, surrounded with love and her kids—exactly the way she wanted.
All told, my mom lived 17 months in hospice—13 months longer than we’d expected. Her hospice said that she was their longest hospice patient. So she won that award, after all.
My dad’s illness
In the summer of 2020—after my mom had already entered hospice—my dad started feeling unwell, too. He went to his doctor, and after some bloodwork and tests, was diagnosed with multiple myeloma—another blood cancer. At 83, he wasn’t a candidate for a bone marrow transplant. His oncologist offered chemotherapy, but my dad couldn’t tolerate it.
Left with no other treatment options, we told my dad that the most important thing was for him to be comfortable.
Armed with knowledge and experience from navigating the same path with my mom, I asked the oncologist how to get my dad into hospice. The doctor was very supportive and helped us connect with the local office.
And then, just a few short months after his diagnosis, my dad entered hospice in December of 2020.
Just like with my mom, hospice was there to ensure my dad was comfortable at home. They gave him pain medication, which relieved us, because you don’t want to see the people you love in pain, especially your parents.
One day, as he tried to get out of bed, my dad found that his legs didn’t work anymore. Coming from a generation where men were supposed to be “tough” it would’ve been easy for him to feel embarrassed. But instead, the nurse who helped him back into bed was so respectful. I think it eliminated any embarrassment that he might have felt, leaving his dignity firmly intact.
But more than compassionate physical care, I was also surprised to see that my dad’s mental and emotional health was cared for, too. After he entered hospice, my dad had become fearful and angry—he felt like he’d just been diagnosed and everything had progressed so quickly. And again, his team stepped in, making sure that he had a counselor to talk to—someone who could provide a kind, empathetic ear to help him process all the very valid emotions he was experiencing.
Ultimately my dad had been afraid to die, and he didn’t want to be in pain. Hospice addressed both of his concerns, and as a result he was able to pass peacefully in January 2021.
What hospice meant to me
One of the best things about hospice is that we never felt alone. There was always someone to talk with, either for health updates or to answer questions. If I noticed that my mom or dad was sleeping more than usual, I didn’t have to wonder if that was problematic; I could just call hospice.
My mom struggled to breathe one night that I was with her, so I called the hospice 24-hour call service. They said that it was safe to increase her oxygen level, and they walked me through the process until she could breathe again. It was incredibly helpful to have a trained medical professional who deals with hospice patients giving me guidance.
Recently, I’ve recommended hospice to friends whose parents were in similar situations. I tell them that it’s the best thing they can do for their parents and themselves. There’s so much care and dignity. I don’t think that people get that level of care in a hospital.
Every day, I miss all three of my parents, but I know that hospice offered my mom and dad the best care available. The ends of their lives were as compassionate and in-control as possible—and for that, I’m forever grateful to their caregivers.