Life worth living

Hospice provides more than a peaceful end
By Nick Tabor, New Era Staff Writer
Kaye Pugh says her mother, Nancy Walker, has wanted pampering since Pugh was a little girl.
Though Walker married a farmer, John Walker, she preferred shopping for purses or shoes over spending time outdoors. Dirt didn’t suit her clean, tidy sensibilities, Pugh said. Whenever Pugh and her siblings came in with red clay dirt on their clothes and in their fingernails, they knew she would scold them.
After Walker retired from her sewing job at Hopkinsville Clothing Factory, and after her husband stopped working at Thomas Industries, he would rise early and fix her breakfast.
John Walker died in 1994. For years afterward, Walker lived alone in their farmhouse on Gary Lane. Pugh often called two or three times a day to check on Walker, and Pugh’s brother stopped by almost every morning to check on the farm — often while their mother still slept.
Around 2002, after several back surgeries, Walker started falling in her house. She left the farm property and moved back and forth between the houses of Pugh and Walker’s other daughter, Faye Thomas.
Her health continued declining as she entered her 80s. In June of last year, on a Thursday at Thomas’ house, Walker’s chest seized up and she couldn’t breathe. She could hardly speak. Thomas gave her CPR and called an ambulance.
A doctor at Jennie Stuart Medical Center determined Walker had chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, meaning damage to her airways was interfering with the exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide in her lungs. No treatment could reverse the damage. The doctor said Walker’s heart was beating at 30 percent of the healthy rate.
She would probably die, the doctor said, in three to four weeks.
A social worker told the family about Pennyroyal Hospice. Contrary to most people’s impressions, she said, hospice staff didn’t limit their scope to the comatose and those just a day or two from death. A month wasn’t too early to start using their services, she said. Anyone diagnosed with a terminal illness could qualify.
Since the family showed interest, a Pennyroyal Hospice employee visited to tell them more. Hospice services were usually funded by Medicare, Medicaid and private insurance. Sometimes hospice workers could help patients fulfill their final wishes: visiting the mall, eating at a favorite restaurant, going fishing. Once Pennyroyal Hospice treated a patient with a brain tumor for six years until the tumor went away. For all that time the hospice helped him fight to stay alive.
In short, the worker said, the hospice aimed to do more than palliate the death experience. It aimed to help patients live better.
With time running out to remove Walker from the hospital, due to insurance limitations, the family considered its options. They could send her to a nursing home, or they could bring her back home and let Pennyroyal Hospice take over.
They chose hospice care.
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The day Walker returned home, hospice staff brought in a portable oxygen tank and a hospital bed.
Tiffany Craft, who had joined Pennyroyal Hospice a month earlier after working for a year at Jennie Stuart, took charge of Walker’s case. She brought in a social worker to help with non-medical needs: insurance contacts, coaching on preparation for death, comfort during difficult times.
The hospice’s chaplain began visiting periodically. A music therapist came and helped Walker play with a keyboard.
And Walker received a personal aide who attended every weekday to bathe and clothe her, check her vital signs, and fix her hair.
Meanwhile, Craft visited every week to examine Walker and keep the family abreast.
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Last week, about 10 months after Walker received her terminal diagnosis, Craft pulled into Pugh’s driveway on a sunny morning and went to the side door. She looked forward to her visit with Walker, whom the hospice workers call “Miss Nancy” and count among their favorite patients. At 87, Walker was one of only two patients Craft received during her early months in the job who were still alive.
Pugh let her in. They stood in the kitchen, Craft scribbling notes and Pugh drinking a Diet Coke.
“How’s she been sleeping?” Craft asked.
“She sleeps really good.”
“Did you get the new sleeping medicine for her? Has she had it?
“Yes. She slept all night all week.”
Craft asked whether everything was all right with Walker’s personal aide.
“Oh, wonderful,” Pugh said, chuckling. “That girl, she’s the best in the world.”
Craft looked up from her notebook. “Is there anything you want us to do differently? Or anything we’re not doing that you think we should do?”
Pugh said the staff had treated her family wonderfully. Then she led Craft through the house, to the bedroom where Walker sat in a chair wearing a blouse and slacks. Her daughter-in-law had fixed her gray hair earlier that morning. The framed artwork above her seat depicted the Cerulean Springs hotel, now only a memory of Walker’s hometown.
Craft spoke over the hum of a humidifier.
“You are just all fancied up,” she said. You got your hair fixed, you got your rings on. I think you need to go out on the town tonight.”
Walker answered in a quiet rasp: “I don’t think so. I can’t walk.” There was humor in her voice.
Craft inquired about Walker’s coughing, then about her recent difficulty breathing. Walker had been on roughly three antibiotics in two months’ time, Craft said, so she had to be honest: Another antibiotic might not solve Walker’s problem. But breathing treatment and the humidifier should help. Meanwhile, was Walker taking pain meds when her hands hurt?
“I don’t ask for it,” Walker said.
Craft lectured her gently.
“Remember how we talked about your pain and breathing, how everything kind of goes hand-in-hand?” she said. “If you’re hurting, and you don’t take anything for it, what’s that going to do? It gets you kind of anxious and worried, and that messes up your breathing.”
Before Craft left, the women talked about getting Walker outdoors after allergy season. Walker said she last went outside last year.
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Visits from hospice workers give Walker something to look forward to, Pugh said. Between visits she fills out crossword puzzles and watches “The Young and the Restless,” and if she naps through an episode, Pugh records it so Walker can catch up in the evening.
The family still pampers her, Pugh said.
Walker keeps a golden bell between her bed and her easy chair. She rings it when she needs help from the family. But occasionally she has said “Call,” which Pugh takes as a code: It means Walker’s airflow has stopped and she wants all her children at her bedside. Pugh’s three siblings have rushed to the house.
Each time Pugh’s siblings have rushed to her bedside. But she has recovered within a few days.
Pugh suspects that in a nursing home, without this sense of the hospice staff and the family fighting for her, Walker wouldn’t have made it this far.
In her children’s view, her will power keeps her alive.

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