My son was one hell of a guy. He became ill at 27 and died at age 32 in 2006. He was director of communications and publications for the U.S. Tennis Association and lived in Atlanta. He was single, very independent and assertive and didn’t want to ask for help. After he was diagnosed with a brain tumor here in New York, he was treated and returned to Atlanta to work as soon as he could. Periodically, he would come back for weeks of additional treatments, work from my home here in Rockland County until he could return to Atlanta. Then in the spring of 2006, his tumor took over his brain, and he had to come home for good.

For us, it was the doctor at the hematology office who first mentioned hospice. Then my son participated in some trials at a cancer center in Florida, and the doctors there too said they wanted to arrange for United Hospice of Rockland when we got home. My first thought was hospice would come, and he would be dead the next day. I didn’t realize all the services they offered, the palliative care, nurses, physical therapy, social workers, massage therapy, music, religious people for consultation. There were so many things I didn’t know about.

During the 11 weeks that hospice was in my son’s life, I learned you don’t have to wait for the end. They helped my son and our family have a good journey. When I felt incompetent and scared, they assured me that whatever I was doing was right. They were always there, at night and during the day. When I felt guilty when my son stopped eating, they told me ‘it’s okay.’ They were concerned, compassionate and involved with all of us.

Hospice helps a patient lead a life at whatever level of activity is possible. There does come a point where they help the patient and family transition from life to death. But they always make you feel you have hope. It’s been four years now that my son is gone, and I still go back to volunteer at hospice even though I have moved to New Jersey because they are a special part of my life.