Back Suburban Hell Save as PDF
Chapters (47)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. CHAPTER1
  4. CHAPTER2
  5. CHAPTER3
  6. CHAPTER4
  7. CHAPTER5
  8. CHAPTER6
  9. CHAPTER7
  10. CHAPTER8
  11. CHAPTER9
  12. CHAPTER10
  13. CHAPTER11
  14. CHAPTER12
  15. CHAPTER13
  16. CHAPTER14
  17. CHAPTER15
  18. CHAPTER16
  19. CHAPTER17
  20. CHAPTER18
  21. CHAPTER19
  22. CHAPTER20
  23. CHAPTER21
  24. CHAPTER22
  25. CHAPTER23
  26. CHAPTER24
  27. CHAPTER25
  28. CHAPTER26
  29. CHAPTER27
  30. CHAPTER28
  31. CHAPTER29
  32. CHAPTER30
  33. CHAPTER31
  34. CHAPTER32
  35. CHAPTER33
  36. CHAPTER34
  37. CHAPTER35
  38. CHAPTER36
  39. CHAPTER37
  40. CHAPTER38
  41. CHAPTER39
  42. CHAPTER40
  43. EPILOGUE
  44. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  45. DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
  46. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  47. What’s next onyour reading list?

HOSPICE SOCIAL WORKER, MONARCH HOSPICE

This position is responsible for providing social work and bereavement services in line with federal and state regulations. The individual will be responsible for providing emotional support and counseling to families and patients from intake through end-of-life. They will develop a Plan of Care and present it to the interdisciplinary team, as well as assess family factors to estimate capacity to cope with terminal illness and death. They will provide counseling to individuals and families as requested and needed. They will assist in the dying and grief process for all involved parties. Position is located in Winchester, Illinois.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I read through the posting several times, the pressure in my chest building. I had never worked specifically as a hospice social worker, although my experience in a hospital meant that I’d seen patients who didn’t have much time left, and assisted them and their families. Most of them were terrified of the word “hospice,” although it really just referred to a different style of nursing, one where the focus was on keeping the patient comfortable rather than trying to diagnose or treat the underlying illness. It was to provide respite, comfort, and emotional healing before they passed.

I remembered one family I assisted, before Jack was born and before my sister was in the last throes of her addiction. Mary Peterson was ninety-one years old, and most of her family lived in California. She was alone most days and seemed anxious to talk to someone, anyone. So I would sit with her and just listen to her talk about her life. She told me about her sisters, growing up on a farm in Indiana, and how she met her husband at a neighborhood dance.

A few days before she passed, when she was still lucid, she thanked me. She told me that because I had sat with her and listened to her stories, she felt that they would live on after she was gone. It was one of the most rewarding moments of my career.

Before I let any doubts diminish my hope, I sent a cover letter and my résumé via email. I read through the description one more time, thinking it could be the next right career move, before I shut my computer and sighed. I knew I should go downstairs and start prepping for breakfast, but the exhaustion from the past week began to creep behind my eyes. I crawled back into bed, throwing the comforter over my head, and fell fast asleep before I could think about what might be hiding under my bed.

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