Literature Review

If my dying daughter could face her mortality, why couldn’t the rest of us? DNYUZ, appearing first in The New York Times; Ms. Wildman; 11/25/24 The first week of March 2022, I flew to Miami with my 13-year-old daughter, Orli; her 8-year-old sister, Hana; and my partner, Ian. We were, by all appearances, healthy. Robust, even. In reality, we were at the end of a reprieve. Orli’s liver cancer had by then been assaulted by two years of treatments — chemotherapy, a liver transplant, more chemotherapy, seven surgeries. Now new metastases lit up a corner of one lung on scans, asymptomatic but foreboding. We asked her medical team if we might show her a bit of the world before more procedures. Our oncologist balked. Hence, this brief weekend away. When we arrived at the beach Orli ran directly to the water, then came back and stretched out on a lounge chair. She turned to me and asked, “What if this is the best I ever feel again?” Three hundred and seventy-six days later, she was dead. In the time since she left us, I have thought often of Orli’s question. All that spring, Orli asked, pointedly, why did we think a cure was still possible, that cancer would not continue to return? Left unspoken: Was she going to die from her disease? It was a conversation she wanted to have. And yet what we found over the wild course of her illness was that such conversations are often discouraged, in the doctor’s office and outside it. ... [Click on the title's link to continue reading this profound story.]Editor's note: While families are gathered for Thanksgiving, many health changes will be observed since this time last Thanksgiving, with countless unknowns to unfold until Thanksgiving next year. Tune into the wide scope of conversations that people do want to have, don't want to have, and--perhaps--that your own family needs to have, with grace and care for all.

'My charity wedding dress brought me closer to Mum' BBC, Manchester, United Kingdom; 11/16/24 Like many brides, when Jo Johnson started planning her wedding, she wanted her mother to be an integral part of the day. But as June Kiely had died nine years earlier, she faced a puzzle as to how to bring her into the ceremony, until she realised there was a way of both feeling closer to her mum and honouring those who cared for her in her final days. June Kiely died at the St Ann's Hospice in Little Hulton, Salford, in 2015, and in the run up to getting married, Jo found herself at the charity's bridal and vintage shop in Stockport. The 38-year-old said it was a "magic moment" as she knew instantly it was the place where she would find the perfect dress. Jo said getting her dress from the shop was "a really special way to include my mum but also to give back to the hospice for everything they'd done." She said the hospice had given her mum "incredible care" and as soon as she walked into the shop, she knew she was "doing the right thing."

Balancing work, life and whatever is in between McKnights Senior Living; guest column by Rebekah Bray, LNHA; 11/11/24 Defining our work and lives as separate entities implies that one should not affect the other. For balance, opposing forces must be equal and not influence each other. In actuality, our careers and our home lives have been begrudgingly unifying for years.  ... Late night and weekend hours somehow have become a badge of honor that demonstrates a commitment to the senior living community or long-term care facility, with the thinking that no one else will possibly be able to achieve it. Endless hours are not sustainable and, simultaneously, a baseline has been developed that tireless commitment is the bare minimum. ... [People] in leadership positions in healthcare seldom are given the luxury to unplug, mentally or physically, due to the endless cycle of problems, including staffing, changes to regulations, revenue and day-to-day operations. Many leaders consider it a sacrifice that comes with the job of leadership. ... Editor's note: Work-life balance continues to be a trend in reasons for retention, unionization, strikes, and more. More significantly--in the midst of your important work as leader--this is your life. This is your time to create and navigate relationships, work, and more. Tapping into your passion for end-of-life care, what will be your joys and regrets when you are receiving palliative and hospice care? What kinds of grief care will your family need after your death?

Celebrating the 238 We Honor Veterans Hospice programs!

Transitional Bridges offers compassionate alternative to plastic belongings bagsABC 8 News, Richmond, VA; by EIN Presswire; 4/30/24Transitional Bridges, a San Diego-based nonprofit focused on inspiring compassion and improving end-of-life care through art, has created Transitional Belongings Bags, a compassionate and eco-friendly alternative to the plastic bags hospitals use to hand over belongings to loved ones after a patient has died. The concept was first introduced 17 years ago by the Irish Hospice Foundation Hospice Friendly Hospitals Program to promote dignity and sensitivity when returning a loved one’s possessions to bereaved family and friends. ... Lorene Morris, the founder and president of Transitional Bridges, became inspired to bring the movement to the U.S. after her mother, an artist, died unexpectedly from postoperative complications. When the family was handed their mother's possessions in two large, clear plastic bags, Morris recalls, “I felt like the whole world could see those intimate items. It was just so wrong.”

Poem: I knew you had been sick for quite a while. I had no idea you were walking your last mile.The Andalusia Star News, by Vickie C. Wacaster, "a patient and hospice advocate for Aveanna Hospice"; 3/14/24. This poem is at the end of an article, "COLUMN: Hospice helps make most of all moments."I knew you had been sick for quite a while. I had no idea you were walking your last mile. Had I known your time was so near, Despite my fear, I would have talked more, touched more, and loved more. I asked about your care, your prognosis, your life, Why couldn’t they tell me? I was your wife. Or was I in denial? Did someone try to tell me? Did I refuse to hear? Could I not see? Did I refuse to accept? Your diagnosis and prognosis, did I reject? Was it because of unbelief? That death snatched you as a thief.We could have made the most of the time you had left, If only we had not been afraid of what we felt.