Chance encounter reminds volunteer of hospice care value

"The blizzard of the world

Has crossed the threshold

And it has overturned

The order of the soul."

- Leonard Cohen, "The Future."

For the past three years I have served as a volunteer chaplain at Bartlett Regional Hospital. Last December I was asked to fill in for another chaplain several days before my schedule was to begin.

The new hospital layout was confusing for me. The wards were busy, and after two hours of seeing patients, I was ready to go home.

But after checking my list, I realized I had missed one of the rooms. I debated whether to tackle the bewildering maze of corridors to get back to that part of the hospital or go have a cup of tea and see the patient the next day. As Leonard Cohen wrote, "The blizzard of the world" had me feeling overwhelmed.

But for some reason I trekked back to the patient wing, vowing to make the visit a quick "meet and greet'. That cup of tea was on my mind! When I entered the room, I was struck by the number of visitors crowded around the bedside.

I quickly realized this was one patient who didn't need a chaplain at that moment. As I gave a quick "Hello" I realized I knew a couple of the visitors. (This is Juneau, after all!) But one woman I didn't recognize came forward and asked if she could talk to me in the hall.

The petite woman with lively brown eyes told me she had just flown up from Ketchikan for the weekend to visit the patient. She then said, "You may not remember me, but you were a hospice volunteer and a couple of years ago you videotaped my husband just before he died. Our lives are good in Ketchikan, but as our daughter's memory fades, I just want you to know that DVD is the treasure that will keep his memory alive forever."

I was struck speechless as the memory of that day came back to me. How her courageous 43-year-old husband wanted to be remembered, and despite being gravely ill, recounted stories for his 8-year-old daughter - her birth, his love of art and how he shared that with her, how much he loved her, and words he would want to say to her on her graduation day and on the day she married.

As a former TV and radio reporter, I have interviewed hundreds of people. But this man's simple, eloquent need to share his story after he died moved me deeply. It has been the only interview I've ever conducted where I have cried.

That wintry day, hospice volunteer and professional photographer Char Fox took black and white portraits of the family. The beautiful photos were on display two weeks later at the funeral.

I had always wondered if what we had done was what the family wanted. Was the video too much? Not enough? Was it worth the emotional and physical toll it took on the patient and family to videotape such intimate and loving words? Would it be worth exploring the benefit of providing this level of service for other hospice patients?

The chance encounter years later in the halls of hospital answered all my questions. Palliative care specialist Dr. Ira Byock once said that people don't want to die in pain, die alone, or die forgotten. I believe that young father will never be forgotten.

I am thankful I had to work when I wasn't supposed to, and delayed making that cup of tea! But most of all, I am grateful for the gifts of love that hospice staff and volunteers provide on so many levels and the families that benefit from their service.

• Claire Richardson is a hospice volunteer slowly working on her Masters in pastoral studies at Seattle University. Those interested in exploring the creation of a hospice video memory project, contact Hospice and Home Care of Juneau at 463-6111.