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I promised I would write more about my experiences at the Palliative Care Congress and though it’s been more than the few promised days since I last wrote, I’m determined to document a few of the amazing sessions I attended.

Although I typically seek out sessions on volunteer issues, this time I decided to branch out and seek out sessions on palliative care for underserved population. The first such session was on palliative care during humanitarian crises. Even the title boggled my mind. What must it be like to provide palliative care in the midst of the chaos of war, conflict, forced evacuation?

In the first paper, Dr. Anna Voeuk from the University of Alberta talked about her experiences working in an emergency field hospital in Northern Iraq. Voeuk’s passionate presentation documented the range of crises health care workers faced and the need to triage incoming cases with those who could not be saved being given the designation of black, as workers turned their attention to the cases that might benefit from their care. Voeuk added that her field hospital had decided that no one would be left to die alone – a staff members, ranging from cleaners to physicians, would take turns sitting with a dying person until they passed, a moving example of humanity even in the face of war and mass casualties.

Dr. Voeuk also talked about the need for resilience, flexibility, and creative problem solving in order to meet the needs of their patients. Lacking essential medications and equipment, physicians would improvise to set broken limbs, control pain, and fight infection.

Equally inspiring was the presentation by Dr. Megan Doherty, a pediatric palliative care physician  at Children’s Hospital of Eastern Ontario (CHEO) and Ottawa’s Roger Neilson House, who  served for three years in the Rohingya refugee camps in Bengladesh. Doherty described the conditions among the 919,000 Rohingya people, 60 per cent of whom are between the ages of zero and 15. Dr. Doherty continues to divide her time between her work in Ottawa and in Bengladesh, providing training and care under extremely challenging circumstances.

I would have wished for the chance to ask Drs. Voeuk and Doherty what had motivated them to offer their services to humanitarian crises, and what impact these experiences have had on their work back in Canada. The standing room only audience for their presentations was clearly as moved as I was by their contributions and dedication.

In the coming days, I’ll write about the sessions I attended on providing care for underserved populations in Canada.

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In Montreal for the 22nd International Congress on Palliative Care. It’s a huge conference at Montreal’s Palais des Congres with thousands of participants from all over the world. It’s easy to get overwhelmed but the cure for that feeling is to focus on the people right around you and the stories being shared by the speakers and audience alike!

I’ll share some insights over the next couple of days. My biggest highlight so far was my chat with my hero Balfour Mount, the father of Palliative Care and founder of the conference. We met at the Hospice at May Court when he was visiting his close friend, a pioneering palliative care doctor. He remembered me and our conversation in the sunroom at the Hospice and we embraced one another. Such a remarkable man!

I was excited to see one of my favourite colleague/nurses at my last session. I look forward to a very full final day tomorrow!

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www.cbc.ca/news/canada/thunder-bay/thunder-bay-hospice-northwest-volunteers-diversity-1.4772724

Perhaps a tad too far for me to drive every week! I love the way they describe the role that volunteers play.

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Often, when I am feeling downhearted or sad, as I have for the past couple of weeks since I posted “The Heart of Hospice” message, I find myself turning to music for comfort. Music has always played an important part in my life, whether it was strumming my guitar and belting out the songs of Bob Dylan and Phil Ochs, or performing feminist songs at coffee shops and rallies in my twenties, or dancing and singing with my babies. My younger daughter studied the clarinet, and played with a sensitivity and musicality that filled the house with beautiful music for many years.

In this, the final third of my life (if I’m lucky!) I’ve taken up the ukulele, a much easier instrument to transport than my guitar, and much easier to play. I bring it along to the Kindergarten class at a local inner city school where I lead the music program once a week. And I sing at every opportunity I get, whether in the choir I joined a year and a half ago, or in the NAC pop-up choir that took place last Thursday, or in my bedroom, listening to music that touches my soul.

Today, as I faced the sadness and grief I’m feeling at a change that is dramatically affecting my life, I found myself singing along with Linda Ronstadt, James Taylor, Carole King, and the music of my twenties and thirties. Sometimes I sing those songs to dying people at the hospice, as I did for my sister when she was dying 21 years ago. We shared a taste in music as we did in many things. When her best friend died of cancer not long after our mother had her brain aneurysm in 1990, Carol and I would listen to the Linda Ronstadt song, “Goodbye My Friend,” as we promised to care for one another in the years to come. (If you don’t remember or know that song, you can find it on YouTube by Googling it.)

On the day that Carol died, I sat by her bed, talking quietly and singing songs we loved. Carole King’s “You’ve got a friend” was the song I sang as she died. Singing it now carries me back to that time, and reminds me of the depth of the friendship and love we shared.

Here is the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qde5NMy7WTU

The final piece I’ve been listening to is the soundtrack from Departures, a Japanese film that is one of the most brilliant films on the subject of dying that I have ever seen. The soundtrack is beautiful, evocative, and, for me, uplifting, and I’m listening to it now as I write. Here’s the link to a review of the movie.  https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/great-movie-departures-2009

I hope that you have music that touches your soul in good times and bad, in joy and in deep sorrow. Perhaps you can share your favourite here.

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The National Documentary Journey Home takes you inside a groundbreaking hospice for the homeless.
— Read on www.cbc.ca/player/play/1269006915536

I heard about the plans for this Toronto Hospice last year at a conference. The work they are doing is inspiring and so important.

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Another wonderful post by my favourite volunteer management site! It feels like a perfect companion to my last post on here!

volunteerplaintalk

baseball bleachers chairs close up Photo by Bahram Jamalov on Pexels.com

Niko looked down at her t-shirt that read “Children’s Zoo Volunteer.” She forgot that she still had it on. The older lady in front of her in the checkout line, had turned and smiled. “I like your shirt. Have long you volunteered there?

“Thank you.” Niko shyly replied. “It’s been about three years.”

“I take my grandkids there all the time,” the lady said as she put her groceries on the conveyor belt. “They especially love the polar bear habitat. I’m excited about the new interactive childrens’ corner. Do you know when that opens?”

Niko moved up. “I think they’ve scheduled it for this fall.”

“Maybe we’ll see you there sometime.” The lady pushed her carton of orange juice forward. “It really is a wonderful zoo.”

“It is.” Niko returned. “They do a great job, don’t they?”

Do our volunteers use the term “we”…

View original post 694 more words

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I’ve been very quiet on this site over the past few months and it’s not just because I’ve been busy with writing or travelling or recovering from one bug or another. It’s because I’ve been stopping myself from saying what I’m about to write.

I’ve been a hospice volunteer for 16 and a half years. That’s a long time – and I proudly tell people about it at every opportunity I get. When I tell someone at hospice (usually a family member who asks how long I’ve been there) that I’ve been volunteering this long, they are always amazed – not at how wonderful I am (though of course I am – hahaha!) but at what a good place the hospice must be to have such dedicated volunteers. I suspect those readers of this blog who are volunteers have had the same experience.

But – and here’s the but I’ve not been writing about – increasingly I’ve come to question what my role at the hospice really is. As I’ve written before, one of the reasons I chose to volunteer in the residence was because I wanted to be part of a team. As an introvert and a writer (they do often go together I find!), I spend a lot of time alone. And I felt reassured that I would be working with a community of volunteers and staff to care for residents and their families.

In the early years, that is exactly how it felt. I still remember my Monday morning shifts. My “buddy” Alex and I  would arrive at 9 for our shift and invariably one of the staff would say something like, “Oh it’s Monday – I knew it would be a good day because you two would be on with me!” And I felt instantly appreciated. Often I’d get a hug when I arrived, and a thank you hug as I left to start the rest of my day.

Very often now, when I arrive, no one says hello. I sit with the volunteer I’m relieving and we do our report. She’s always happy to see me, so in that way I feel welcomed. But more often than not, a staff member will come into the room while we’re doing report and tell us of a lunch order, or someone who needs juice, or a task that needs doing. I’ve developed a self-protective habit of not going to do anything until I have familiarized myself with who is in the residence and what their needs and abilities are. And because as I’ve aged over the years (how did that happen?) I can’t remember the food orders as easily, so I will ask the staff member to write it down for me or to wait until I’ve done with what I’m doing.

Many weeks now, I find myself caught up in cooking, cleaning, emptying and loading the dishwasher, and find that at the end of my shift I haven’t had time to sit with a single patient. I might have talked briefly with a family member while I’m making someone’s lunch, but I haven’t really had time to engage in a “real” conversation or to let them know that I am really there for them, that that’s the most important thing I can be doing.

I recognize that once the “pioneering” days are over, institutions can become more routinized, with tasks being divided up in a silo manner, with each role having a specific set of tasks, and very little sharing of tasks happening between people. So, getting juice or ice water or tea or food are all tasks of the volunteer – even if that volunteer happens to be sitting with a dying person or talking to a distraught family member.

To me that seems like we’ve somehow lots a sense of real role and value of hospice volunteers. We are not (or shouldn’t be) unpaid personal support workers or cooks or cleaners – though I don’t think any of those tasks is somehow “beneath” me. I believe we are at hospice to support dying people and their families. We bring a wealth of experience – at work and in life – that can serve the people who come to our hospice. I don’t want to feel like I’m somehow slacking off if I spend a little extra time talking to a volunteer or to a family member. And at times, I’ve felt that some staff see my “merely” sitting as just that – wasting time.

Over the years, and especially lately, other volunteers have shared these concerns with me. Being an old-timer, I’m not afraid to share our concerns with the volunteer coordinator or other senior administrative staff. Though I’ve found a sympathetic ear, I’ve never seen any real change happen. And it leaves me, frankly, discouraged.

I still tell others what an amazing place the hospice is. I write and publish work that advocates for the expansion of hospice and palliative care services. But this nagging feeling remains. So I’m writing this today because I don’t want to remain silent any more. Perhaps some of you can offer guidance, ideas, or advice. I look forward to hearing from you. And I feel better for having finally written this!

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« Newer Posts - Older Posts »

The Haul Out

Considering Seals and Other Shore-Strewn Items

Te Arai Research Group

Palliative Care & End of Life Research - New Zealand

Hospice is Not a Dirty Word

-A Hospice Nurse Speaks

volunteerplaintalk

where volunteer managers talk

Ellen Symons

Poetry, essays, and various forms of nature reports

Last Comforts

Notes from the Forefront of Late-Life Care

offbeatcompassion

Offbeat stories and essays about what people facing loss ponder, value, and believe.

Your Own Good Death

thoughts and experiences from being an End of Life Specialist

Jane Eaton Hamilton

"At the bottom of the box is hope." - Ellis Avery.

Ottawa Citizen

Ottawa Latest News, Breaking Headlines & Sports

BIRTH AND DEATH AND IN BETWEEN

Reflections from my life as a mother, grandmother, midwife, farmer, buddhist, teacher, vagabond and hospice nurse...

The fragile and the wild

Ethics, ecology and other enticements for a stalled writer

Rampant with Memory

completed moments stamped

Heart Poems

How poetry can speak to you

Linda Vanderlee • Living Aligned

Personal, Leadership & Team Development

Writingalife's Blog

Just another WordPress.com weblog

yourcoachingbrain

Just another WordPress.com site

Hospice Volunteering

A blog about volunteering in hospice care

EAPC Blog

The Blog of the European Association for Palliative Care