INTERSECTIONS

PART6

No, I Didn’t Have Favorites, but . . .

 👬👪👫👶🐈

The Family Meeting

By the time a person needs hospice care, it’s more than likely his family has been in crisis for a long time. Often, the main caregiver is bone weary and nervous about handling things at home. It’s not unusual for an out-of-town family member to arrive, not having seen the ill person for a long time. She may be shocked at his appearance, might even start questioning the difficult decisions that have been made. It’s unlikely everyone in a family is on the same page about moving to hospice care. There may be many opinions on where the person reside, who should be caregiver, whether to hire help, and so forth. It’s all perfectly normal. Different ideas and approaches can be magnified in stressful times.

One afternoon, a hospice social worker and I were on our way to an initial visit. We were to explain our services and, if the family so chose, admit them. The first visit almost always is challenging. Many families never talk openly about what is happening; that makes discussing hospice services a bit like tap dancing across a mine field blindfolded. This particular family had a terminally-ill dad in his sixties, his wife, and eight (count ‘em­–eight) adult children plus a stadium full of grand kids. We were a titch trepidatious after being told they would all be present for this visit.

The front door opened to a sea of welcoming faces. The dining room table had been pushed aside and folding chairs were set up in rows all the way back into the living room. Dad was lying on the couch and waved at us. We were given two chairs up front facing the family. One son introduced everyone in the group and explained each person’s role. This one would chair the meetings. That one was in charge of legal matters. The daughter to our left would be the primary caregiver, and the one to our right would coordinate shifts of family members. The eldest grandchild would grocery shop and two others would cook and clean. One son managed medical appointments and transportation. They presented us with a list of all of these contacts and their phone numbers. Then they invited us to begin our spiel.

We weren’t novices, but we hadn’t seen anything like this group. They signed on, and before we left, we asked if we could hire them!

It’s easy to remember the difficult, challenging, dramatic family situations. It is truly rewarding when one can nudge such families toward a better place and provide the resources they need to do what families do best. This time, however, we were privileged observers of a unique three-generation tribe that was prepared, mobilized, and organized. Their good vibes could have powered a small city.

Some days, it seems as though the whole world is crumbling, and people in droves have lost their collective mind. Everyone is shouting. It’s nice to remember that here and there, dotting little cul-de-sacs or nestled at the ends of quiet country roads, there are houses with these everyday heroes. They are stepping up, handling the impossible and the unfair with grace. Just ordinary people. This holiday, let’s have faith and hope that these quiet superstars are out there and will prevail.