Flying High

Conley Murray has always loved adventure. In fact, as one of our home hospice patients, he recently talked with his Hospice Care Plus chaplain, Sally Shepherd, about the adventures in his life. At one point, Sally asked him what adventures he still has on his bucket list.

Because you never stop dreaming and hoping, even, or maybe especially, when you know you’re in your final months of life.

Mr. Murray had a quick answer.

“I’d love to go up in a single-engine plane,” he told her. “That would be so much fun.”

Sally wasted no time. She contacted Eastern Kentucky University’s aviation program. They gave her the name of one of their graduate pilots, Corey Oney. Not only did Corey agree to take Mr. Murray up in his plane, but he donated the fee. Next, Sally contacted the Central Kentucky Regional Airport in Richmond, where Corey’s flight would originate. They, too, were on board with the idea, and donated the airport’s fees.

On Tuesday, August 8, 2017, Mr. Murray’s dream came true. Corey helped him into the small craft, and they took off into a beautiful blue sky. They spent 40 minutes or more exploring Madison County from the air, including a flight over the Pinnacles in Berea.

When they returned, and after a delicate dance to help him out of the plane, Mr. Murray had an enormous smile and a few words.

“That was so much fun!” he told everyone gathered, as he distributed warm hugs to his Hospice Care Plus team, friends, and family.

His wife, Mrs. Murray, captured her feelings in a tearful moment just after takeoff, flanked by Mr. Murray’s hospice nurse, Connie, and his hospice social worker, Kristy.

“I think it’s wonderful, isn’t it? Just wonderful. That’s his dream. He’s always wanted to do this, and I’m so happy.”

Our thanks to EKU for sending us in the right direction, to the incredible Corey Oney, who was so gracious and kind, and to Central Kentucky Regional Airport. Our deepest gratitude for helping us grant another bucket-list wish and helping a special gentleman have another taste of adventure.

To Give Back

Don Ray loved music. Specifically, he loved to collect it, sing it, and entertain with it. By the time he chose hospice care, he had thousands of CDs that made up an impressive

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Don with Nikki Stuart and Julie Hatfield, who helped him organize his bucket-list karaoke event.

collection for one of his favorite hobbies: karaoke.

When Sally Iseral Shepherd, his Hospice Care Plus chaplain, visited him, they often sang a song or two. In spite of end-stage lung disease, Don never stopped singing.

“Singing opened up his lungs and made him feel better,” Sally remembers. “Plus, we enjoyed it.  We had a great time singing those songs.”

During one visit, Don mentioned that he wanted to put all that music to good use. He’d decided he wanted to host a karaoke concert as a fundraiser for Hospice Care Plus.  He talked it over with Nikki Stuart, who helps with fundraising at Hospice.

“He told me he wanted to give back,” Nikki says. “He said it was important to him, and that he wanted to make sure other people could benefit from hospice the way he had. He and his wife had only one request—to do it soon, while he still felt well enough to host and sing.”

In the first week of June, Nikki and Sally shared the work of going door-to-door in Richmond, looking for a place that would allow Don to perform on short notice and without charging a fee. Unfortunately, during the summer months, most venues have entertainment scheduled weeks in advance. Although owners wanted to help, they were understandably reluctant to bump a scheduled entertainer from the schedule.

Then, Nikki walked into Purdy’s Coffee shop on Main Street in Richmond.  Owner Kristin Purdy heard the story and, without a second thought, agreed to give their next Thursday night music event over to Don.

Even though there were only a few days to advertise, dozens of friends, family, and supporters crowded Purdy’s on a beautiful June evening. Anyone lucky enough to wander in got to see Don, flushed with excitement, making the rounds to greet everyone, choosing the right music for the next karaoke performer, or—if they were truly lucky—singing a duet with his chaplain, Sally.

Don seemed to swell with pride with each dollar dropped into his fundraising jar that night.  By the end of the evening, he knew he’d accomplished his goal of helping patients and families who, like him, have more living to do but need help feeling well enough to do it.

“It was a real honor to be there and watch this dream come true for him,” says Nikki. “His face was lit up with an enormous smile all evening long. It clearly made him very happy, and that felt great for all of us who were there.”

To Make a Joyful Noise

Featured

Marlene Payne had a very specific wish. Granting that bucket-list wish would involve getting her up five flights of stairs into a bell tower, so she could play the instrument she loved one more time. It would take four men, special equipment, and the cooperation of a small college. This is a great story about a great woman, and this little video tells it well.

To Leave a Special Legacy

Jeannie Strong is a talented and creative woman with a heart for service. She helped her husband, former Richmond, Ky., Mayor Bill Strong, serve his community for decades as a city commissioner, a magistrate, and as mayor.  And, in her life away from public service, she put her creativity to work.

Jeannie’s creative touch extends to nearly everything around her: growing flowers and vegetables, upholstery, sewing, and endless crafts.

Her walls are draped with aprons she made from vintage material. She has steamer trunks

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Jeannie with her daughter and some of her beautiful, hand-made stockings.

filled with pictures of blue ribbons she’s won at the Madison County Fair over the years.

So, nine months ago, when she was diagnosed with end-stage lung cancer and given a prognosis of one year to live, Jeannie responded in typical fashion.  She wanted to work through it with her hands—to put them to use on a special project.

Jeannie’s immediate bucket-list wish was to make every single person in her family a Christmas stocking before she dies.

When she came to Hospice Care Plus, the team saw right away that this project was very important to her.  They saw the beautiful fabrics Jeannie was working with to make the stockings: burlap, ribbons, even an old mink stole that belonged to her mother. But they also knew that it was about much more than fabric, or even the stockings themselves.

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Jeannie shows her Hospice Care Plus nurse, Junie, one of her vintage aprons.

What Jeannie Strong was working on her legacy.

The hospice team knew its job was to make sure Jeannie continued to feel well enough to finish the project.  So, together, they dealt with pain and symptom management so Jeannie could continue sewing stockings.

Every day, Jeannie walked down her narrow basement stairs to check her progress.  She was admitted to Hospice Care Plus in October. By January, Jeannie was finished with every last one.

But, she wasn’t done yet.  Her next project is a quilt for her newest great-grandchild.

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Jeannie with husand Bill Strong.

When that’s finished and Jeannie turns to her next project, we’ll be by her side the whole way, making sure she feels as well as she can for as long as possible. Because, as hospice care staff, we know that fine-tuning one’s legacy is a top bucket-list wish for patients. We also know that, in order for peace and quality of life to truly win the day, those bucket-list wishes must be met.

To Celebrate My Birthday

John Shelton may have come to Hospice Care Plus with end-stage heart disease, but, to us, his heart was perfect.

He loved life. He loved his wife. He even loved his hospice care team.

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Jane and John open cards and gifts at John’s birthday celebration with his Hospice Care Plus team.

He also loved celebrating his birthday.

“As soon as one birthday passed, he would start reminding you that he had another one coming up, counting down the months,” says his wife Jane.

One reason he enjoyed celebrating each year of his life had to do with his medical history. He had his first heart attack at a young age and was diagnosed with heart disease at 39.  So, to John, every single year—even every day—was a reason to celebrate.

“John loved life and lived it to its fullest . . . I think he was determined to make every day count,” says Jane.

By the time John came to us for care, he outlived his doctors’ prognosis by many years.  But, at 76, his heart was very weak.

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John and all his guests snap a quick picture during his birthday dinner.

“He was the picture of health on the outside,” says Jane, “but it was his inside that was failing him. His heart disease was taking its toll.”

Weakened heart aside, John Shelton was not going to let his 76th birthday go by without a celebration.

He spoke to his hospice team about it, and told them he was determined to celebrate for fear it would be his last birthday. They supported and encouraged him, and joined him in planning the big day.

John’s traditional birthday celebration was an evening out to eat with Jane at the restaurant of his choice. This year would be no different. He told his hospice team that he wanted to go out with his wife to Red Lobster.

But, this year, he wanted a few extra people to join them. He asked his entire Hospice Care Plus team to come along.

This was no surprise to Jane. She remembers that, the previous Halloween, John wanted to make goodie baskets for each member of the hospice team who visited him regularly.

“John sat there smiling and was so excited as we worked on those baskets that night,” Jane says. “He couldn’t wait to give them to the girls.”

So, on the evening of his birthday, John and Jane drove to Red Lobster.  When they came into the entrance, the party began.

There was his nurse, Norma; his chaplain, Sally; and his social worker, Jackie, all of their arms filled with helium balloons and gifts.

John, Jane, Norma, Sally, and Jackie enjoyed a full meal, with John feeling well enough to eat a wonderful dessert.

“He was smiling from ear to ear.  He was so excited to get to celebrate with them,” says Jane.

A modest birthday party is a very modest bucket-list wish. But, to John, it meant everything. Thank you, John, for inviting us to celebrate with you.

To Salute My Grandson & Be Baptized

When we shared the story of Mr. Ramirez’s very special wish on our Facebook page, it reached nearly 400,000 people. Later, we made this simple video to use as part of our 2016 Bucket-List Challenge. Special thanks to his family, and especially his granddaughter, Blue, for sharing their memories and photos with us, and with you.

To Make Sure Sue Keeps Dancing

Charlie Conner and his wife Sue spent the winter at their Florida home for 17 years.  He loved the warm weather, dancing with his love of 52 years, and listening to her sing.

But when Charlie was diagnosed with cancer, everything changed. Winters in Florida seemed impossible.  Instead, they stayed closer to home, where Sue took wonderful care of him.  She didn’t leave Charlie’s side for four years.

As his condition worsened, Charlie told Sue he wanted to spend one more winter in

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Charlie with Sue, the love of his life.

Florida.  It wouldn’t be an easy trip, and it would take a lot of planning, but Charlie wanted to see Sue dance and sing in the Florida sun again, so they made the arrangements. In November, they returned to their Florida home and were able to stay until April.

Not long after returning to Kentucky, Charlie’s physician suggested they look into hospice care.  He was admitted to Hospice Care Plus and his hospice team began to care for him. They quickly learned that he had another wish. He and Sue had always attended both of their family reunions in the summers.  Charlie wanted to attend one more reunion.

As the July reunion drew near, Charlie’s condition worsened again.  Knowing how important it was to him to make it to the reunion, the hospice team worked diligently to bring pain and symptoms under control, making frequent visits, adjusting medications, and collaborating with his physicians. When the big day approached, Charlie felt well enough to go. He wasn’t able to stay the entire day, but he did get to make that last trip to see his family.

A month later, Charlie passed away.

That’s when Sue told us that he had one more wish, and this one only Sue could help him with.

Sue was the love of Charlie’s life.  Throughout his illness, he worked hard to prepare her for his leaving.  His final wish to Sue was that she go on living.

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Sue and Charlie surrounded by all the littles ones they love.

“He told me, ‘you love to dance and you love to sing.  When I’m gone, you go on living. Find someone to dance with and keep on singing,’” remembers Sue.

Hospice’s bereavement program stayed in touch with Sue to offer support. They were delighted to learn that Sue would, in fact, honor Charlie’s last wish.

“It’s only been a few months since Charlie passed, but I went to Florida this winter, because that’s what he would have wanted.  I’m continuing to live, just like he asked me to do.”

To Taste Home Once More

It’s not surprising many hospice patients turn their thoughts to family, family traditions, and even childhood.

That was the case for Alejo Ramirez, a Texas native who lived in Kentucky for more than 30 years. His thoughts often turned to his birthplace and to family traditions. In particular, he told his Hospice Care Plus team about the authentic, homemade, corn-husk tamales

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Mr. Ramirez looks over old photos after his special meal.

his mother used to make.

“Mr. Ramirez talked about these tamales regularly,” says Jackie McGee, his hospice social worker. “He was looking for a way to find them locally, but, living in far southeastern Kentucky, it was a challenge. He even called to ask different companies in other states if they could ship them to him, but he had no luck. Everyone said that tamales would deteriorate long before they arrived.”

Jackie and the rest of the hospice team, including Jodi Neal, the primary nurse, and Sally Iseral-Shepherd, his chaplain, had a feeling that what Mr. Ramirez really wanted was to “taste home again.”

“It seemed very important to him,” says Jodi. “And we felt it was a quality of life issue. It was about so much more than tamales; it was about remembering his childhood, missing his birthplace and his culture. We felt he needed this.”

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Giving a big thumbs-up after eating nearly every bite.

Mr. Ramirez never asked the team to find him these tamales, of course.  He just told us stories about trying to locate them.  But the team, always reading between the lines for ways to make quality of life better, wanted to help.

Jackie, Jodi, Sally and the entire team went to work. They heard of a Mexico native now living in Berea, Ky., who could make the authentic tamale meal Mr. Ramirez craved so deeply.  Her English was very limited, so a staff member’s friend volunteered to translate.  Once the translator explained the situation, she agreed to shop for the ingredients and make a meal—enough for four people—so Mr. Ramirez could share it with others. The team all pitched in to fund the ingredients, gave the funds to the volunteer, and the meal was prepared.  As soon as it was ready, the team loaded the food into their cars and drove it to his home in Booneville, just over an hour away.

The team spread the feast out onto the kitchen table and made a plate for Mr. Ramirez.  Everything was lovingly made from scratch: the colorful guacamole; the rich, black refried beans; true Mexican rice boiled in tomato juice; and, of course, the pork-filled tamales wrapped in corn husks.

His wife had mentioned that Mr. Ramirez had eaten not long before we came, and that he

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A young Mr. Ramirez during his years of military service.

probably wasn’t hungry. It went slowly at first—we asked if we could take a picture of him with his full plate, even if he didn’t want to eat just yet. He agreed. But, gradually, as the team filled their plates and sampled the wonderful food, Mr. Ramirez began to eat, too. He was so quiet as he did so, as if he wanted to carefully consider every bite. He barely said a word until the last bit of food was gone from his plate. Then the magic happened.

The familiar tastes and smells of his childhood brought back his loved ones—mother, father, brothers and sisters—and his memories. He spoke of watching his mother when she made tamales, more than 50 years ago. He described the sights and sounds as she ground the spices in a lava-rock bowl, or steamed the husks over a bucket full of boiling water. His wife brought photo albums to the table, and he told us more stories from his youth.

The team had been right. It wasn’t possible for Mr. Ramirez to physically get to Texas at this point in his life. Nor, of course, could he see his mother or father—both long gone. But he could get there and be able to be with them again through his senses—taste, smell, feel. And that was exactly what he needed to do….one more time.

“It was beautiful,” said Brenna Wallhausser, a hospice staff member who came along to take photos. “To see the food take him back that way, and to share this meal with him—it felt like a true honor. It felt like a celebration of him, his culture, and his life.”

To Find a Home for A Navy Veteran

One afternoon, our hospice, Hospice Care Plus, was called to see if we could help a young Navy veteran, Mr. Jones (name changed), who was essentially homeless.

He had been living in a home with some family members, but difficult family dynamics led to it being a very unsafe environment for him, especially since he was coping with an end-stage disease.

One of our nurses was sent to evaluate Mr. Jones, and found that he was appropriate for hospice care. The challenge, though, was where we would care for him. He had no home.

After making several calls, it was clear there was no way to find an immediate home situation for the veteran patient. The Hospice Care Plus team met and made a suggestion: what if we housed him at our Compassionate Care Center in Richmond, so at least he could live in peace and comfort while we continued trying to find a safe and welcome living situation for him.

It was a big decision. We are reimbursed about $600 per day for patients who need inpatient care at our Center, as determined by Medicare guidelines. Unfortunately, though, it looked as if Mr. Jones might not meet those Medicare guidelines for inpatient care—just for hospice home care. In order to let him stay at the Center, then, we’d have to be prepared to accept the home care reimbursement rate of $130 per day instead of the inpatient reimbursement of $600 per day. If he stayed two weeks, and if he never met those inpatient Medicare guidelines, we stood to lose about $6,580. If he stayed more than two weeks, it could add up to an enormous amount of lost funds.

But, we all felt there wasn’t a choice, really. We had a bed, and a dying veteran needed a home. How could we not invite him to stay? If anyone deserves compassion and dignity at the end of life, it’s our veterans.

He came to the Center and was given a room of his own. When he was well enough to eat, our dietary staff loved to cook for him and bring him meals. Our We Honor Veterans program presented him with a framed certificate, thanking him for his service.

He also got to enjoy some of the things that meant a lot to him throughout his life. An avid guitarist, Mr. Jones loved rock music. His favorite times in life were spent going to various music venues, watching bands he loved, and joining them on stage to jam along with them.

Since he couldn’t do that anymore, he did the next best thing—he brought his guitar with him to our Center.

“I think it helped him remember really happy times of playing with his favorite bands,” says Diana Bond, the social worker at the Compassionate Care Center. “You could always tell when he was feeling well, because that’s when he’d pick up the guitar and strum for a while.”

Diana worked to find Mr. Jones permanent placement at a VA facility in Kentucky, but he deteriorated so quickly that it wasn’t possible to transfer him anywhere else. So, the Center was his home until the end. He died peacefully a few weeks after coming to us for a safe, caring home.

Mr. Jones never said to us, “My bucket-list wish is to live out my last days in a safe place, under a roof, in a warm bed, with homemade food and loving people around me—not on the streets.” He didn’t have to. It was unexpressed but clear as a bell. Who doesn’t want that? It’s incredibly tragic that such a basic human need became a bucket-list wish for him. But, it did.

We’re not sure how we’ll recover the losses from that stay, but we still feel we did what we had to do. Twenty-five percent of dying Americans are veterans. They gave us their all. They deserve no less from us.

To Visit My Favorite Fishing Hole

Mr. Smith (name changed) loved to fish. Every weekend for most of his life, he managed to fit in a time to fish for a while at his favorite fishing hole. His wife, Mary, often told us that his fishing spot was like his second home.

When we admitted Mr. Smith to our hospice home program, he had recently been hospitalized for several weeks. His energy was low and he was weak. He still loved to talk, though. Every time his Hospice Care Plus team visited, he regaled them with fishing stories.

One afternoon, when the nurse aid was visiting, he told her a story that struck a nerve with her.

“One Saturday a long time ago,” he told her, “I got up early and went to the fishing hole. It was the first real Spring day, and that fishing hole was calling to me. Mary usually made me breakfast biscuits on Friday nights, so I could take them with me if I went fishing the next morning. I grabbed those biscuits and my fishing pole, and off I went.”

He paused at this point, remembering that warm, sunny morning. The nurse aid saw that his eyes were a little misty.

“That morning was the last time I got to go there, and I was just thinking that I wish I’d known it. I wish I’d known it was the last time.”

The nurse aid asked what he’d have done differently if he’d known it was the last time.

“Honestly, I think I just would’ve sat there and soaked it up. I’d have thanked God for the time I was able to spend there over the years. It was my quiet spot, you know—a place where I could get away from everything.”

“Mr. Smith,” the nurse aid said, “If it’s okay with you, I’m going to take this back to the whole hospice team. I bet they’ll want to find a way to help with that.”

For the next two weeks, the team worked hard to help Mr. Smith strengthen his legs a bit. They walked arm-in-arm with him around the house, reviewed his medications, and came up with a plan. By the end of those two weeks, one sunny summer morning, three team members showed up to go fishing.

It wasn’t easy—Mr. Smith’s mobility was still pretty limited—but those three team members were able to get him to the car with his fishing gear. They drove to his favorite fishing hole, helped him out of the car and into a special chair, put a pole in his hand, and left him alone for several minutes.

The team eventually returned and sat next to him in silence, taking in the beautiful view. After about 10 minutes with him, Mr. Smith said, “It’s time to go, ladies.”

They helped him back into the car and took him home. After they settled him into his favorite chair at home, he looked up at them and smiled.

“What you just did…that meant the world to me,” he told them. “I needed to say good-bye to that place. I have a peace about everything now that I didn’t have before. Thank you for that.”