A little over four years ago,

it became obvious that my father was dying.

He had been battling cancer

for two years, had several surgeries, radiation treatment, chemotherapy,

and had been fighting a heroic battle. However, the doctors finally sat

down with our family and shared the hard truth that he was not getting

better, was, in fact, getting worse, and would not recover.

One medical person had suggested

that my mother, who was ill herself, consider a nursing home for Dad's

last months. My mother wouldn't hear of it. "I will not let Bill

die in a nursing home surrounded by strangers. I'll take him home before

I do that."

On one of my visits to Tennessee,

Dad's doctor suggested that Mom consider in-home hospice care. I was unfamiliar

with that type of hospice care, but was very aware of excellent residential

hospice facilities in the Atlanta area. I assumed that a hospice was a

place where someone went in order to die. I was about to learn something

new.

I discovered that hospice care

is recommended when a patient has a terminal illness with a life expectancy

of six months or less; when the patient no longer seeks curative treatment;

and when the patient desires to shift the attention and focus to family

and personal issues and to measures of comfort.

I discovered that there are

two primary goals of hospice care. The first is that the patient be free

of pain and other uncomfortable symptoms (while remaining as alert as

possible). The second goal is the successful bereavement of the family

and loved ones. The goal is to help, not only the patient, but the grieving

family.

In in-home hospice care, the

family becomes the primary source of care with the hospice staff (which

includes a medical director, nurses, aids, social workers, ministers,

therapists, volunteers, and others) supporting the family and providing

the treatment.

In other words, the terminally

ill patient goes home to die, surrounded by friends and family, and lives

out his or her last days pain-free and alert. All the while, nurses, social

workers, chaplains, volunteers and others, visit the home, care for the

patient, and assist the family to make this most difficult of transitions.

My mother agreed to in-home

hospice care and Dad went home. The hospice folks, who are generally paid

medicine in short, everything needed.

I also discovered that members

of a hospice staff are a special breed of people. Many, like Karen Hennessy,

R. N., of Countryside Hospice in Newnan, Ga., have, themselves, lost a

loved one to an illness and have experienced hospice care. In Karen's

situation, her husband, Tom, died peacefully at home with Karen at his

side and other members of his family within a few minutes of the house.

Now, Karen does hospice admissions, fully understanding the compassion

and sensitivity needed during this agonizing process.

Father David Jones served as

a volunteer chaplain for Olsten Hospice in Fayetteville. Father Jones

took communion to the sick, prayed and read scriptures, and, at times,

would bring his guitar and softly sing songs of worship as he brought

the Church to those who were unable to leave their bed.

Other volunteers have taken

ill patients fishing or have played chess or checkers with those who cannot

leave the house. Sometimes, other volunteers just sit with the patient

while the spouse goes to the grocery store or simply takes a long, much

needed, solitary walk.

My father would die the Thursday

after the second Sunday in September 1996. His last days were spent in

the house my family had occupied for some 40 years. He ate Mom's cooking,

had visits from family members, and had the gentle and loving care of

my mother.

Mom wasn't certain she was

up to the task, but, with the help of hospice staff, she did a marvelous

job. My brother, Wayne, also came to the house nearly every day and assisted

Mom in taking care of Dad.

My father originally had lung

cancer that eventually moved to the brain. His last days were pain-free

and spent in familiar surroundings. When he died, the hospice staff came

to the funeral and cried just like they were members of the family.

Mom couldn't say enough good

things about the people from the hospice who came to see Dad. In fact,

they would follow up with Mom for the next year making sure she would

be okay.

After the funeral was over

and my father was buried, my mom looked at me and said, "I guess

I've done all I can. It's time to go home." I don't think she could

have made that statement if she hadn't brought Dad home. Hospice made

that possible.

During this November, which

is National Hospice Month, I'd like to thank all those people who make

the last days of people like my father times of peace and joy. Dad died

with dignity, free from pain, surrounded by people who loved him. Thank

God for that.

Thank God for hospice care.

Thank God for that special breed of people who visit the sick and comfort

the dying and their families.

[Father David Epps is rector

of Christ the King Charismatic Episcopal Church in the south metro area

of Atlanta. He may be contacted at [email protected], or at www.ChristTheKingCEC.com.]