Sunday, April 1, 2012
my father and Hia
My father was diagnosed 30-days-or-less-to-live in December 2010. So he qualified for free hospice care in the nursing home.
The hospice staff provided music therapy, art therapy (which stopped abruptly because he asked the therapist to take her clothes off and pose for him), a rabbi with whom he could chat in Yiddish, a nurse who would check on his overall health, and pet therapy.
And best of all, a private aide four hours a day, five days a week, who would take him to the lobby or outside if the sun was shining.
They didn't stop hospice even though my father lived for 14 months after he was pronounced almost dead.
His "illness" was that he was starving, but they refused to believe me (or the dietician). He didn't have any chronic diseases.