OUR JOURNEY WITH PADDY'S HOSPICE PATIENT

When Paddy and I met Linda several years ago, she could only move a knuckle in the first digit of her right hand. She was utterly helpless and lay in bed 24 hours a day. Paddy had been assigned as her hospice therapy dog. We had already made weekly visits to other patients in hospice, but unlike the other patients, Linda was my age. I was at the other end of the leash, as Paddy did all the work. I learned from all the hospice patients we visited to appreciate each day. Linda taught me not only how to live but how to die.

Linda had multiple sclerosis, which caused her to rapidly declined in the last few years. Her daughter admitted her to a nursing home when Linda's husband died. Before we met, she had been in the facility for a couple of years. Linda's daughter worked full-time, had two young children, and could not care for her. Linda shared that she didn't want to burden her daughter and felt living in a nursing home was best for everyone.

Linda's primary interest was watching TV. However, the remote her daughter gave her was too small to operate with one knuckle. I thought Linda needed a much larger remote to retain some independence. I reached out to my friends to inquire about more oversized remotes, and a gigantic device was sent by overnight mail. When I presented it to Linda, one would have thought she had won the lottery. And to her, she did!

Paddy immediately jumped into bed with her when we entered her room. Linda loved feeling his soft fur while reminiscing about the dogs she loved when she was younger. I would share a little about my life with Linda but felt guilty about telling too much because of the freedom I enjoyed and the freedom she didn't have. Linda assured me that she found pleasure in living vicariously through me. Our relationship quickly shifted to one of close friendship.

When I asked if she ever felt depressed, Linda immediately replied, "Oh, no, not at all! I've had a great life. I was married for many years to the love of my life. I have a wonderful loving daughter and two adorable grandchildren!"

Our last conversation involved Linda's condition and the future, although she wasn't suffering from any immediate life-threatening illness at the time. Linda happily shared that she was "ready to go." She looked forward to being reunified with her husband and a daughter who had died at a young age.

A week later, Paddy and I entered her room to find her bed empty. Her roommate explained that Linda had a urinary tract infection left untreated. When she lapsed into a semi-coma, the nurse from hospice made one visit and only stayed a short time. Since she was in hospice care, the decision was to withhold treatment. Linda died two days later. Linda's roommate indicated no one was with her during those last two days.

Neither the Florida hospice company nor the nursing home contacted me when she died. I later discovered that the hospice company was being investigated for Medicare fraud. The company was accused of qualifying people for hospice care who were not eligible and of improper treatment of their patients. Although I shared Linda's experience with the investigators, the company continues to operate.

While it's heartbreaking that Linda died alone when I was only a call away, there is comfort in knowing she is no longer suffering. Linda's wish to be with her loved ones was granted. Her indomitable spirit is an inspiration. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, the psychiatrist who identified the stages of grief, once stated, "It appears that the people who have gone through a life of suffering, hard work and labor, who have raised their children and been gratified in their work, have shown greater ease in accepting death compared to those who have been ambitiously controlling their environment and accumulating material goods."

Randy Pausch, who authored The Last Lecture in the final months of his life, wrote, "We can't change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the hand." Linda played her hand to perfection.