Bring on the cold!

by Andrea Powell, HPCCR Communications Manager

One of the perks of living down South (I think those of us who do live here would all agree) is the mild winters.  Now, there are always some exceptions (hello, 2010!) but for the most part, we don’t suffer temps in the teens and we don’t have snow and ice on the ground for months starting in October.  But there is one day each year when I wish for the bitter cold.  Just one day when walking outside numbs my nose, not to mention my fingers and toes, and makes me long for warmth.  That day is Soup on Sunday. 

There is nothing better than eating hot soup on a cold day.  Oh wait, there is.  Eating over 30 soups on a cold day!  That’s just what you’ll get this weekend at Soup on Sunday when the high is only predicted to be 50 degrees (hurray!).  Here are just a few delights that you have to look forward to: Wood Roasted Tomato, Sausage, and Prosciutto; Sweet Potato, Roasted Red Pepper, and Coconut Bisque; Chicken Soup with Whole Grain Mustard and Gruyère; Cauliflower with Berkshire Pork Belly; and Smoked Brisket and Black Bean Chili.  And that’s just a handful.  The entire list has something for every palate, from the adventurous to the traditional.

So the soups are the headliners, but the opening and closing acts of drinks, breads, and desserts are just as noteworthy.  Great Harvest Bread Company will be returning with their rich, wholesome breads.  Bojangles sweet tea, Caribou, and Coca Cola products will keep you hopping from soup station to soup station.  And even though you’ll think you haven’t saved room for something sweet, you’ll change your mind when you see what the kitchens (and students) of Johnson & Wales and CPCC Culinary Arts Department have cooked up.  Last year the chocolate creations were so beautiful, I couldn’t decide whether to eat them or frame them.  (I ate them.  Truly the better choice!)

And before you even get to decide which soup to try first, all you Soup Lovers’ Special ticket holders have to make up your mind which gorgeous bowl(s) to take home.  All those pieces that were made at Charlotte Country Day School will be there, plus a ton more crafted by friends of HPCCR, Providence Day School students, and some other very gifted artists. 

Oh, and while you’re there, don’t forget to buy tickets for the “souper raffle”.  There are always some great spa packages or coffee bundles (in case you didn’t get enough caffeine!) to bid on and you just might win!  You don’t even have to be present if they snag your ticket out of the hat.  The drawings happen at 1:30pm, by the way.

So make haste!  Go online and buy your ticket (after today you won’t be able to).  And try not to overdress on Sunday.  You want to be nice and chilly by the time you arrive at the door.  I promise, it makes the soup taste that much better!

Soup on Sunday will take place from 11am until 2pm at the CPCC Culinary Arts Center at 425 North Kings Drive (in uptown Charlotte).  If you don’t buy your tickets online, they are also available at the door on Sunday morning – $30 for general admission, $40 for the Soup Lovers Special (it includes a hand-made pottery bowl), and $10 for kids ages 7 to 12.  See you Sunday!

How we live, how we die, how we believe

by Jim Young, HPCCR Volunteer

In our darkest hours there can be light, and I have seen this even in death.  My mom died thirty years ago.  Back then, death was a dark and scary place; there was so much uncertainty.  It seemed, to me at least, that the way hospitals dealt with the dying was somewhat crude and impersonal.  The philosophy of that era was that the dying should be placed in a private room, and the use of medications should be liberal.  At least that was the way my mother endured her last six days of life.  As we watched her suffer, a piece of our family also suffered and died with her.  It was an agonizing experience because I felt like the people who could have helped her took a step back. 

Maybe this is why my faith took a turn for the worse — there was no peace found by anyone, especially my mother.  My trust was broken when it came to anything spiritual or medical.  Maybe that is why God led me to volunteer with hospice because by doing so, I have been healed and have come to realize that neither God nor the medial profession let me or my mother down.  God was always there and the medial profession was still evolving to a better understanding of how to deal with cancer, dementia, and other diagnoses; how to bring some level of comfort to not only the patients, but also the caregivers and families.  Hospice takes an active role with all involved by not only bringing a higher level of care to the patient, but also bringing grief support to the ones who are left behind — something I wish would have been there for my mother and my family those last six days so long ago.  Acceptance would have replaced uncertainty, peace would have replaced suffering.  We would have believed.      

I have heard the cries for help, and I have seen the agony of suffering in the faces of the dying and their loved ones.  In the end we all have to die, but it is not about how we die more than it is about how we live.  I have walked with someone who is dying, and in the few steps I have walked with them, I have been taught more about life than I have from someone I have walked an entire lifetime with.  For the dying, faith, God, family, and friends become the only essentials; they hold onto this faith and love as much as their loved ones hold onto hope.  I can’t tell you how many times I have seen the dying become more concerned with the wellbeing of the loved ones they are leaving behind than the pain and suffering they are enduring with every breath they take.  Hospice has taught me there can be comfort instead of pain.  There can be hope instead of despair.  And there can be peace in death, even for those who are left behind. 

Thirty years later, as I stand before my mother’s grave, I am overwhelmed by a feeling of serenity and peace, something my mother never really got to embrace in life.  But I feel her peace here among the other voices whispering in the wind. I truly do believe.

The face value moments

by Andrea Powell, HPCCR Electronic Communications Manager

The hawk has apparently decided to stay at LDHH

I had a meeting a few weeks ago at Levine & Dickson Hospice House.  There was a large group of us sitting in the conference room discussing marketing strategy when we suddenly noticed a large hawk perched on a chair just outside our window.  Conversation completely stopped as we all stood up from our seats to get a better view of its gorgeous and fierce presence.

In retrospect, this little interlude, seemingly innocent, grants us a nice wake up call.  It reminds us that nature has the ability to trump the mundane activities of our lives.  It reminds me personally that sometimes, for just a moment, there is nothing more important than living in the moment and appreciating what’s right in front of my face.

I think that most hospice patients and their loved ones have already reached this conclusion by the time they arrive at LDHH.  They know that time is precious.  They no longer focus on the past or on the future.  It’s enough to enjoy each moment as it comes, to appreciate it at face value, and savor the next one that comes along. 

LDHH was recently certified as a wildlife habitat with the National Wildlife Federation.  If you’ve ever been there, you’ve seen the bird feeders (and consequently, birds) everywhere.  No surprise that the hawk has adopted LDHH for a new home.  He (or she) joins the deer and other wildlife that has chosen to share their space with our patients in our peaceful habitat.  How nice that our patients can look through their windows and have more of those simple, face value moments to enjoy.  Thank you, Mother Nature, for the wake up call.

A win-win for us all

C'mon, what's cuter than kittens?

Dear loyal Hospice Matters subscribers,

We can’t tell you how much we appreciate your readership!  It’s nice to know that our stories are reaching you, touching you, and building awareness about end-of-life care at the same time.  And we are always striving to improve your reading experience; to give you the so-called “double platinum” customer service when you spend time at our blog. 

To that end, here’s a quick tip to make your time with us more enjoyable:  When you receive the email notification that the blog has been updated, instead of reading the story in your email, click on the title of the blog (in your email), and you will be taken to the much snazzier version of the story where the real blog is housed, here at wordpress.com. 

It’s a win-win for all involved.  You will be able to read a nicely formatted piece of literature (We use pictures.  Every time!  Did you even know that?) and our number of ”views” will increase.  See, if you don’t click on the title (which takes you to the actual blog), you awesome subscribers won’t “count” in the tally.  And you don’t want that, right?  Because you count with us.  You’re our best “customers”–you have chosen to be alerted when we update this fine blog and we appreciate that so very much.  We just want to get an accurate idea of how many readers are actually engaging with us, and we know that you are.  Let’s just make it official, ok?  

So that’s your tip for the day.  Go ahead, practice clicking on the title on this very email.  We’ll make it worth your while by picking a really cute picture to see when you get here to Hospice Matters.

Exercise your right!

by Andrea Powell, HPCCR Electronic Communications Manager

As far as I’m concerned, one of the best aspects of social media is that it allows users an easy way to exercise their right to free speech on a very large scale.  It is, however, a double-edged sword.  Because as nice as it is to be “on stage” and shout out your true feelings to the world, there are times when those opinions are not necessarily welcome and might be best kept to themselves. 

But occasionally you get a happy surprise when it comes to social media.  For HPCCR, it appeared over the course of several months last year on Facebook (but I didn’t notice it until one day last fall).  Without being asked, some loyal hospice supporters felt compelled (completely unsolicited!) to fill out the recommendation section that Facebook offers for businesses.  Here are a few excerpts from their comments for your reading pleasure:

“Chameleon’s Journey has made a huge difference in our granddaughter’s life and ours too!  We are so thankful for this group and for all those who sponsor Chameleon’s Journey!  They are the BEST!!!  May God bless you all!”

“As a human being, author, and thanatologist, I give 3 cheers to HPCCR!  They do the right thing, for the right reason.  When you are at your worst, they are at their best.  Period.”

“They were amazing and helped us navigate the last months of my father’s life with so much grace and honor!  We would not have made it through if it had not been for the staff and volunteers at HPCCR!”

 

“Kids Path and Chameleon’s Journey camp made a HUGE impact on the grieving process for our family.  Two thumbs WAY up!”

 

 See what I mean?  We love to receive compliments, especially when we haven’t asked for them!  And we are so appreciative of the great feedback; it keeps us focused on our mission and spotlights the difference we are making in our community on a daily basis.

 

So if you are a friend of ours on Facebook (and if you’re not, you should be!), you can go out there and read what others are saying about us.  And hey, if you feel like writing a glowing recommendation for us, we surely can’t stop you.  You know. . . . free speech and all that.

Maybe we’ll call it a New Year’s determination?

by Marilyn Morenz, HPCCR Education & Resource Manager

True or false statement: New Years resolutions are great because they offer direction and motivation throughout the new year. 

If you answered “true”, you should read this post — we have a great idea for a resolution this year.  If you answered “false”, go ahead and read it anyway.  You might just learn something. 

We often come up with a New Year’s resolution that is difficult to achieve.  For example, I will exercise every day, I will lose 20 pounds, I will walk the dog every night.  We start out with a bang, but the plan often dissolves before the winter ice melts.  Wouldn’t you love to impress your loved ones by choosing one that you will follow through on?

One of Mr. Webster’s definitions of the word RESOLUTION is “the act of determining”.  This year, we have a great idea for what you need to “determine”.  By completing your advance directives – Living Will and Healthcare Power of Attorney – you can participate in determining your fate should you develop a terminal illness, permanent brain damage, or advanced dementia.  Once you lose your decision-making capacity, your healthcare providers and loved ones can turn to these documents to honor your wishes.  Without them, your fate is in their hands and they may not know what you would want.

Take the following steps to make it happen.

1. Have a talk with yourself about quality of life, and what that means to you.
2. Share this information with someone close to you as well as your healthcare provider.
3. Obtain the N.C. documents (on line at ncmedsoc.org or nhpco.org).
4. Complete the forms and sign before two witnesses and a notary.
5. Give copies to those who would need to know your wishes.

The best thing about this resolution is that most adults can steal the idea and use it as their own!  So, go ahead and make it happen.  This may be the first successful resolution you have made in years.  Now, don’t you feel better?

Holiday lessons from a children’s book

by Alia King, HPCCR Director of Volunteer Services

Virginia O’Hanlon, the cartoon version

I am constantly amazed at the children’s stories I read to my daughter.  The lessons they hold are often far more powerful than those I learned in school or have read in even the greatest literature. As I was reading the famous answer from the New York Sun to Virginia O’Hanlon (of the famed Yes, Virginia, There Is A Santa Claus), one phrase stuck me the most:

“The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that’s no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.”

The author's daughter

The holidays are often thought of as such a joyous time of year, but for many it can be challenging as well.  Volunteers often ask what they can do for their patients at the holidays; how they can reconcile the magic of this time of year with the sadness that some of our patients or caregivers may be experiencing.  What gift do you give someone who will not be with us much longer?  This quote from the Sun’s letter reminded me that the best gifts are those that are “unseeable” – presence, time together, a song, even a smile.  The gifts you cannot wrap are often the ones that last the longest, that are remembered by both the receiver and the giver.

Squelch your inner Grinch

by  Andrea Powell, HPCCR Electronic Communications Manager

Do you ever feel this way during the holidays?

Don’t we all sometimes have a bit of the Grinch in us around Christmas?  Of course, we like to think that we all channel Cindy Lou Who for the entire month of December, but the reality is that there is always something that gets to us.  For me, it’s the electric train that runs around our Christmas tree that is, quite simply, the bane of my holiday existence.  My kids constantly fight over it, I routinely trip over it, and no one seems to be able to get it back onto the tracks except my husband. 

For some folks, it might be the whole process of picking out a tree.   There are just so many factors to consider.  Should it be fat or skinny?  Should it be pear-shaped or perfectly symmetrical from top to bottom?   Can the tree be perfect except for the one side that will face the corner of the room and never be seen?  How much better is the tree right in front of me than the one over on the other side of the lot?  How many branches must be cut off at the bottom to get it to fit in the stand?  Too many?  Ok, then.  Looks like we’re starting over. . . .

Well, if that sounds like someone you know (hint, hint) then we’ve got the solution for you.  Just go to http://www.snowflakevillageonline.com/ and pick out your tree online.  All you have to do is choose the tree size you need, and then designate an organization to receive 20% of your purchase.  (That would be HPCCR!)  Then you just have to go pick it up at 11432 S. Tryon Street.  Or, if you just want to avoid the tree lot completely, they’ll deliver it to you for an extra fee (as long as you live within 10 miles of their location).  And it’s not just trees you can purchase.  You can also get wreaths, tree stands, and tree waterers.  Just a few clicks and you can put tree selection behind you and move on the fun part—decoration!

So stuff your inner Grinch back in his cave and give yourself a break this year.  Use http://www.snowflakevillageonline.com/ to find your tree and show your support for HPCCR.  And if you need an electric train to run around said tree, I just might know where you can find one.

Sometimes we just need to succumb to the pain

by Andrea Powell, HPCCR Electronic Communications Manager

Editor’s note: This blog posted exactly one year ago today.  I wrote it after attending the Light Up A Life interfaith memorial service at St. Martin’s Episcopal Church.  It was my first experience with Light Up A Life and to say that it was meaningful would be a gross understatement.  It was more than that. It was beautiful, emotionally draining, heart-wrenching, and unbelievably uplifting at the same time.  (I know that these words together make very little sense, but trust me on this one.)  After you read about my experience, please consider attending one of the remaining services this week.  You will not be disappointed.  To see the schedule of services, please click here.

My great-uncle Pick died last week, on his 99th birthday. He was my 100-year-old grandmother’s “baby brother” and yes, she still called him that. Although he lived in Texas and I really only got to know him later in my life, I enjoyed him so much when he visited. He remained mentally sharp, was a delightful conversationalist, and wrote thoughtful letters (even at 99, his handwriting was impeccable) to his family members and friends. He was a gem.

It was Uncle Pick’s name that I called at the Light Up A Life memorial service on Saturday night.

If you haven’t been to one of our Light Up A Life services, you are missing one of the most meaningful events of the holiday season. Even if you haven’t recently lost a loved one, just sitting through this service makes you appreciate our human capacity to deeply love. There was so much pain being released inside St. Martin’s Episcopal Church on Saturday night. But by the end of the service, much of that pain (hopefully) had been replaced by peace.

The music alone (from PJ Brunson and Laurie Neal of Ananda), was so moving that it made you want to weep for no reason. The poems were perfectly chosen; they spoke of remembrance and unbroken love that never disappears, even when a loved one leaves our life. The Oratorio Singers of Charlotte sang a piece called Sing Me To Heaven, which is when I think the tears started pooling in my eyes and leaking down my cheeks. It was a haunting a cappella song that closed with the lyrics, “Love me, comfort me, bring me to God: Sing me a love song, Sing me to heaven.”

And then came the lighting of the candles. I’ve never been a part of a more touching ceremony. Candles were lit, one by one, with each person saying, “I light this candle in memory of. . . .” Mothers, sisters, fathers, brothers, husbands, wives, sons, daughters, in-laws, best friends, grandparents, fresh losses, old losses–they were all mentioned. Some folks were able to call the names of their loved ones with strong voices. Others could barely speak through the tears.

So often when we are grieving, we are embarrassed by tears; we feel that crying signifies a weakness in our character. So we try to stifle our tears when we think they are not appropriate. But grief lingers. The pain might lessen over time, but the sadness never completely goes away. And sometimes we just need to succumb to the pain. Let it wash over us, and just wallow in it for a while. Because afterwards, we feel better. Stronger.

On Saturday night, the tears were there in spades but at the end of it all, we let the light of remembrance lift our spirits. We walked out of the church with red eyes, clutching wet tissues, but with smiles on our faces. Because truly, we have been blessed to love. And the ones who we remembered and honored on Saturday night, those who have gone before us, have been the lights in our lives.

Godspeed, Uncle Pick.

Sometimes we just need to succumb to the pain

by Andrea Powell, HPCCR Electronic Communications Manager

Editor’s note:  This blog posted exactly one year ago today.  I wrote it after attending the Light Up A Life interfaith memorial service at St. Martin’s Episcopal Church.  It was my first experience with Light Up A Life and to say that it was meaningful would be a gross understatement.  It was more than that.  It was beautiful, emotionally draining, heart-wrenching, and unbelievably uplifting at the same time.  (I know that these words together make very little sense, but trust me on this one.)  After you read about my experience, please consider attending one of the remaining services this week.  You will not be disappointed.  To see the schedule of services, please click here.

My great-uncle Pick died last week, on his 99th birthday.  He was my 100-year-old grandmother’s “baby brother” and yes, she still called him that.  Although he lived in Texas and I really only got to know him later in my life, I enjoyed him so much when he visited.  He remained mentally sharp, was a delightful conversationalist, and wrote thoughtful letters (even at 99, his handwriting was impeccable) to his family members and friends.  He was a gem.

It was Uncle Pick’s name that I called at the Light Up A Life memorial service on Saturday night.

If you haven’t been to one of our Light Up A Life services, you are missing one of the most meaningful events of the holiday season.  Even if you haven’t recently lost a loved one, just sitting through this service makes you appreciate our human capacity to deeply love.  There was so much pain being released inside St. Martin’s Episcopal Church on Saturday night.  But by the end of the service, much of that pain (hopefully) had been replaced by peace.

The music alone (from PJ Brunson and Laurie Neal of  Ananda), was so moving that it made you want to weep for no reason.  The poems were perfectly chosen; they spoke of remembrance and unbroken love that never disappears, even when a loved one leaves our life.   The Oratorio Singers of Charlotte sang a piece called Sing Me To Heaven, which is when I think the tears started pooling in my eyes and leaking down my cheeks.  It was a haunting a cappella song that closed with the lyrics, “Love me, comfort me, bring me to God: Sing me a love song, Sing me to heaven.”

And then came the lighting of the candles.  I’ve never been a part of a more touching ceremony.  Candles were lit, one by one, with each person saying, “I light this candle in memory of. . . .”  Mothers, sisters, fathers, brothers, husbands, wives, sons, daughters, in-laws, best friends, grandparents, fresh losses, old losses–they were all mentioned.  Some folks were able to call the names of their loved ones with strong voices.  Others could barely speak through the tears.

So often when we are grieving, we are embarrassed by tears; we feel that crying signifies a weakness in our character.  So we try to stifle our tears when we think they are not appropriate.  But grief lingers.  The pain might lessen over time, but the sadness never completely goes away.  And sometimes we just need to succumb to the pain.  Let it wash over us, and just wallow in it for a while.  Because afterwards, we feel better.  Stronger.

On Saturday night, the tears were there in spades but at the end of it all, we let the light of remembrance lift our spirits.  We walked out of the church with red eyes, clutching wet tissues, but with smiles on our faces.  Because truly, we have been blessed to love.  And the ones who we remembered and honored on Saturday night, those who have gone before us, have been the lights in our lives.

Godspeed, Uncle Pick.