Don’t Cut the Switchbacks

Switchbacking trail in the Grand Canyon.

When younger, I did quite a bit of backpacking. Many hikes were in California’s Sierra Nevada, but I’ve hauled lots of (not) tasty dehydrated food along the Appalachian Trail, into the Grand Canyon, and through lesser-known spots like the Marble Mountain Wilderness. I’ve tramped alone, led groups of youth and adults, and had wonderful experiences with friends.

On every adventure, I honored one of backpacking’s key mantras: Pack it in, Pack it out.

That mantra is first and foremost a reminder not to leave junk behind. Don’t litter! If you bring a Zip-lock bag bursting with delicious gorp, don’t discard the used plastic container on the trail after gulping the nuts, dried fruits, and other tasty treats. If you carried it in, you can carry now lighter version out! The same applies to food packaging after those fabulous freeze-dried meals are eaten and only foil or paper remains. Read More →

Facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmailby feather

Cover Me, Part 2

I have received my next round of edits for the proposed cover of the book I will publish in early 2019.

If you recall the first two cover options, it’s obvious which theme I chose. However, there are now differences from that original. First, the back part (which is the same in the current four examples) has different wording.

But it’s the front of a book’s cover that matters most. That’s what my imagined reader–the one who doesn’t know me, who is looking for a resource on hospice–will first see . . . and it’s that glance at the front that will possibly lead to a “yes” or a “no” on making a purchase. Read More →

Facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmailby feather

Everyone (mostly) Needs Help

According to the social worker’s earliest notes on the medical chart, the patient’s son didn’t want any grief support after his father died.

The nurse who’d cared for his father echoed those sentiments when the family was discussed in the hospice team meeting. Since the patient—the father—had been in our hospice’s care for several months, there had been multiple visits by the social worker, nurse, and chaplain. All agreed the son said (before and at the time of death) that he was okay. Additionally, the son’s cousin—more like a trusted friend since childhood—happened to be one of our hospice nurses.

This cousin/nurse affirmed what others concluded: the son had shared he didn’t need additional bereavement support after his father’s death.

He.

Was.

Fine.

But the cousin, my hospice colleague, also said to me, and to the social worker who’d write the official chart notes, that the son should be contacted anyway.

“Give him a call,” the cousin/nurse said. Read More →

Facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmailby feather