Memoir of a Hospice Volunteer: A Love Story, tells of the author's unique and unusual experiences as a hospice volunteer at a local hospital, in time, stretching her newly acquired skills and knowledge to include patients in nursing homes and residences. It is in the writing of her personal involvement with her patients and their families that we learn of their last desires, who and what they held dear to their hearts; and with some, witnessing their joyful reactions to visionary encounters during their final hours and days. We learn that from the compassionate heart of a young visionary from London, England, of a nurse who went on the become Dame Cecily Saunders,and who founded a holistic medical program that would change the way we care for the dying, as well as supporting the needs of family members during their time of grieving. We learn that in 1974, through Saunders efforts and the welcoming medical staffing at Yale-New Haven Hospital, that the first hospice hospital was opened in Branford, CT, where standards and best practices were set forth to teach others in the medical community new and innovative ways in which to support and care for our most vulnerable patients would be taught. These efforts are ongoing, even to this days, as we strive to maintain and meet the challenges involving patient care. Data from the National Hospice & Palliative Care Organization of 2014 showed that over 1.5 million hospice patients were supported by approximately 430,000 volunteers. More trained volunteers are needed, especially in hospitals and nursing homes, and in remote places of our country were hospice facilities are not readily available. And to this end they strive to remain vigilant with the hospice mission: That no patient should die alone.
When asked by a curious, somewhat frightened co-worker, "How can you sit with dying people? the author began an inner journey of self-discovery using memories from her youth to add depth to her novel and insight into her nature and developing character. She grew up in a time when war and anxiety touched every family, where fathers, brothers and uncles sometimes did not return home, and you weren't necessarily told why. A time when food was rationed and elastic was left out of underwear, and silk, once used for such luxuries as women's stockings, was now needed for the making of parachutes. A time of air-raid signals and blackout shades, stale popcorn and B-movies. A time when heroes were to be found in comic books, and the use of DDT over playgrounds and schools were not thought to be a big deal. A time of happy exploration while running through fields of wheat and patches of sun-ripened wild strawberries and juicy purple grapes were hers for the taking. A time when slimy swamp creatures were often gathered in her mother's large, aluminum potato pot, and the exciting discovery of twenty-six baby garden snakes, orphaned by the work of bulldozers and backhoes, found a temporary home one Easter morning in the bathtub, and an agitated mother ordering the quick return of the little reptiles to their natural habitat. A time when the death of a pet would leave long lasting scars, and loss of sacred places and spaces were as deeply felt and mourned.
As the author's memories unravel to where she is the mother of four children, each eventually going their own way, and the need of a grandmother to open her home to many of her eight grandchildren, she begins to see that her role as a caregiver is what she most enjoyed. Now more mature, relaxed and confident, when the last grandchild heads out to school, the loneliness is deeply felt, and she begins to search for a place where she could be of need and one that would offer her similar rewards.
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When asked by a curious, somewhat frightened co-worker, "How can you sit with dying people? the author began an inner journey of self-discovery using memories from her youth to add depth to her novel and insight into her nature and developing character. She grew up in a time when war and anxiety touched every family, where fathers, brothers and uncles sometimes did not return home, and you weren't necessarily told why. A time when food was rationed and elastic was left out of underwear, and silk, once used for such luxuries as women's stockings, was now needed for the making of parachutes. A time of air-raid signals and blackout shades, stale popcorn and B-movies. A time when heroes were to be found in comic books, and the use of DDT over playgrounds and schools were not thought to be a big deal. A time of happy exploration while running through fields of wheat and patches of sun-ripened wild strawberries and juicy purple grapes were hers for the taking. A time when slimy swamp creatures were often gathered in her mother's large, aluminum potato pot, and the exciting discovery of twenty-six baby garden snakes, orphaned by the work of bulldozers and backhoes, found a temporary home one Easter morning in the bathtub, and an agitated mother ordering the quick return of the little reptiles to their natural habitat. A time when the death of a pet would leave long lasting scars, and loss of sacred places and spaces were as deeply felt and mourned.
As the author's memories unravel to where she is the mother of four children, each eventually going their own way, and the need of a grandmother to open her home to many of her eight grandchildren, she begins to see that her role as a caregiver is what she most enjoyed. Now more mature, relaxed and confident, when the last grandchild heads out to school, the loneliness is deeply felt, and she begins to search for a place where she could be of need and one that would offer her similar rewards.
Memoir Of A Hospice Volunteer
Memoir of a Hospice Volunteer: A Love Story, tells of the author's unique and unusual experiences as a hospice volunteer at a local hospital, in time, stretching her newly acquired skills and knowledge to include patients in nursing homes and residences. It is in the writing of her personal involvement with her patients and their families that we learn of their last desires, who and what they held dear to their hearts; and with some, witnessing their joyful reactions to visionary encounters during their final hours and days. We learn that from the compassionate heart of a young visionary from London, England, of a nurse who went on the become Dame Cecily Saunders,and who founded a holistic medical program that would change the way we care for the dying, as well as supporting the needs of family members during their time of grieving. We learn that in 1974, through Saunders efforts and the welcoming medical staffing at Yale-New Haven Hospital, that the first hospice hospital was opened in Branford, CT, where standards and best practices were set forth to teach others in the medical community new and innovative ways in which to support and care for our most vulnerable patients would be taught. These efforts are ongoing, even to this days, as we strive to maintain and meet the challenges involving patient care. Data from the National Hospice & Palliative Care Organization of 2014 showed that over 1.5 million hospice patients were supported by approximately 430,000 volunteers. More trained volunteers are needed, especially in hospitals and nursing homes, and in remote places of our country were hospice facilities are not readily available. And to this end they strive to remain vigilant with the hospice mission: That no patient should die alone.
When asked by a curious, somewhat frightened co-worker, "How can you sit with dying people? the author began an inner journey of self-discovery using memories from her youth to add depth to her novel and insight into her nature and developing character. She grew up in a time when war and anxiety touched every family, where fathers, brothers and uncles sometimes did not return home, and you weren't necessarily told why. A time when food was rationed and elastic was left out of underwear, and silk, once used for such luxuries as women's stockings, was now needed for the making of parachutes. A time of air-raid signals and blackout shades, stale popcorn and B-movies. A time when heroes were to be found in comic books, and the use of DDT over playgrounds and schools were not thought to be a big deal. A time of happy exploration while running through fields of wheat and patches of sun-ripened wild strawberries and juicy purple grapes were hers for the taking. A time when slimy swamp creatures were often gathered in her mother's large, aluminum potato pot, and the exciting discovery of twenty-six baby garden snakes, orphaned by the work of bulldozers and backhoes, found a temporary home one Easter morning in the bathtub, and an agitated mother ordering the quick return of the little reptiles to their natural habitat. A time when the death of a pet would leave long lasting scars, and loss of sacred places and spaces were as deeply felt and mourned.
As the author's memories unravel to where she is the mother of four children, each eventually going their own way, and the need of a grandmother to open her home to many of her eight grandchildren, she begins to see that her role as a caregiver is what she most enjoyed. Now more mature, relaxed and confident, when the last grandchild heads out to school, the loneliness is deeply felt, and she begins to search for a place where she could be of need and one that would offer her similar rewards.
When asked by a curious, somewhat frightened co-worker, "How can you sit with dying people? the author began an inner journey of self-discovery using memories from her youth to add depth to her novel and insight into her nature and developing character. She grew up in a time when war and anxiety touched every family, where fathers, brothers and uncles sometimes did not return home, and you weren't necessarily told why. A time when food was rationed and elastic was left out of underwear, and silk, once used for such luxuries as women's stockings, was now needed for the making of parachutes. A time of air-raid signals and blackout shades, stale popcorn and B-movies. A time when heroes were to be found in comic books, and the use of DDT over playgrounds and schools were not thought to be a big deal. A time of happy exploration while running through fields of wheat and patches of sun-ripened wild strawberries and juicy purple grapes were hers for the taking. A time when slimy swamp creatures were often gathered in her mother's large, aluminum potato pot, and the exciting discovery of twenty-six baby garden snakes, orphaned by the work of bulldozers and backhoes, found a temporary home one Easter morning in the bathtub, and an agitated mother ordering the quick return of the little reptiles to their natural habitat. A time when the death of a pet would leave long lasting scars, and loss of sacred places and spaces were as deeply felt and mourned.
As the author's memories unravel to where she is the mother of four children, each eventually going their own way, and the need of a grandmother to open her home to many of her eight grandchildren, she begins to see that her role as a caregiver is what she most enjoyed. Now more mature, relaxed and confident, when the last grandchild heads out to school, the loneliness is deeply felt, and she begins to search for a place where she could be of need and one that would offer her similar rewards.
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Product Details
BN ID: | 2940157416430 |
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Publisher: | Jo Mcnulty |
Publication date: | 01/27/2017 |
Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
Format: | eBook |
Pages: | 220 |
File size: | 143 KB |
About the Author
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