I agreed with him.
The nephew’s aunt—who’d raised him since his single-parent mother had died before he entered kindergarten—was the most important person in his life. Her final days in hospice, as far as he was concerned, became her worst days.
Based on the brief chart notes I’d scanned about this sixty-something woman, I hadn’t expected any frustrations about hospice. When I phoned not long after her death to ask how he and the rest of the family were doing, his anger shadowed our entire conversation.
Here, though, I should pause.
I am making most of this up, based on my thousands of calls to people grieving in the first days after the death of a loved one. There was no nephew. No aunt. And the “type of thing” that “should never happen” could’ve been many different possibilities: Read More →by