A Publication of Houston Hospice
N o t e s F r o m t h e Vo l u n t e e r D e p a r t m e n t
very summer we meet with a new class of
hopeful volunteers wanting to share their time
and talents with hospice. They come from all
walks of life, some are students, some are
retirees. Some are studying chaplains, music therapists,
and just those who have been touched by hospice in
their personal lives. And while not all will become
volunteers, we are always glad to meet and share a piece
of hospice with them.
12 Things I Wish I Could Tell My Mother
To begin the conversation about end-of-life and find an
empathetic space for families, in volunteer training
volunteers are asked to write a loved one a letter to tell
them the things they never got a chance to say. Author
Meghan O'Rourke, author of The Long Goodbye, deals
with this subject as she writes to her mother things she
never got a chance to say.
O’Rourke said she bought a 1940’s-style fake
leopard-spotted coat that matched one her mother
wore during her childhood, “I loved resting my head on
the shoulder of the one you had when I was a little girl.
That thigh-length coat seemed like the only kind of
coat a grown-up woman should own.” She also said she
was sorry she never told her mother and never did
write her that final letter, “It's impossible to summarize
love. There's no way to do it. Even though I knew you
were dying I couldn't possibly say goodbye enough,
couldn't look at you enough; you seemed so beautiful
even though you were disappearing, aging before my
eyes. I just wanted to touch every eyelash around your
eyes, to keep you in my sight, and I had no words
for that.”
Read the entire article at www.oprah.com/relationships/Things-I
-Wish-I-Could-Tell-My-Mother
FALL 2015
PAGE 1
F o r m e r M S U C o r n e r b a c k i s D e t e r m i n e d t o M a k e a D i ff e r e n c e
t was by far the toughest time of his life, but
David Taylor coped with a loss the only way
he knew how. The day after his mother lost
her battle with Stage 4 brain cancer, Taylor was
back behind a desk in a hotel. The former
Montana State standout cornerback, who
describes himself as having a tough mentality
and an ability to drown out problems with
work, stopped going to church. He buried
himself in day-to-day tasks, always keeping his
mind on business and life goals instead of
addressing his issues with his faith.
Bozeman Daily Chronicle Sports Writer,
Michael Appelgate, wrote about Taylor’s
transformation from grief to determination
writing that what Taylor didn’t realize was
depression was slowly setting in. In
October of last year, however, he made a
change. Taylor, a Galveston, Texas, native
rediscovered his faith, and his year-old
clothing line, Godly Creations Clothing,
has grown. He has opened his first store in
nearby Hitchcock. There was no intention
to start a Christian clothing line, Taylor
admitted, but it’s something
he’s embraced.
every day.” Within a month, he moved back to
Texas despite his mother’s objections. In his
mind, there was no question he was moving
back. She died in May with Taylor by her side.
“Losing her was like losing everything, to be
honest,” Taylor said. “I don’t talk about it a lot
because it’s a big thing to me. She was just an
awesome person just inside and out.”
He started his clothing line in May 2014. Taylor
said he came up with his idea for a logo in a
dream, then sold 50 shirts the same day.
He donates a portion of his profits to Houston
Hospice, which cared for his mother in her
final days. It was there that Taylor’s eyes were
opened to how many people struggle financially
with supporting sick loved ones.
“I want to be known as David who
started a business and helped so many
people and brought people to God,” he
said. “One of my goals with this
company is to donate a million dollars
to Houston Hospice. I want to leave
something for this world.”
His mother was diagnosed in March 2013 after suffering a seizure.
His brother called to deliver the news when Taylor was living and
working in California. “My greatest fear in my life was losing my
mother,” he said. “She was my best friend and we talked almost
“I want to be known as David who started
a business and helped so many people and
brought people to God,” he said. “One of
my goals with this company is to donate
a million dollars to Houston Hospice. I
want to leave something for this world.”
(Read the full article at
www.bozemandailychronicle.com.)
Visit David Taylor’s store at 8723 Hwy 6 in Hitchcock, Texas or
shop online at www.godlycreationsclothing.com.
CHAP
s many of you know Houston Hospice is
Community Health Accreditation Partner
(CHAP) certified. This is an accreditation
that we go above and beyond our regular
certifications to do. We were audited this summer
to ensure that we continue to meet CHAP
standards. Learn more about CHAP at
www.chapinc.org.
Hurricane Policy
s we enter hurricane season, remember to use
your best judgement when coming into the
unit or visiting with a patient at home. If
you cannot visit due to weather please
contact the patient’s family and let them know
your reason and next projected visit date. You can
read more about this policy in your volunteer
workbook. Please contact
[email protected] with questions.
PAGE 2
FALL 2015
We l c o m e N e w S t a ff M e m b e r E l i s a C o v a r r u b i a s !
e are pleased to
announce
that Elisa
Covarrubias is our new
Volunteer Coordinator!
You may already know
Elisa because she has
been a Houston
Hospice volunteer for
nearly five years. Elisa
plans to continue to volunteer with our Angel
Bags program, making care package deliveries to
homecare patients. She is also a long-time
volunteer at Star of Hope and The Dispute
Resolution Center.
Previously, Elisa worked as an HR specialist
with a large multi-subsidiary engineering
company. Before that, she gained valuable
customer service experience working for United
Healthcare as a provider and member service
representative.
She has a bachelors degree from the University
of Houston, with a major in Political Science
and is currently completing requisite
undergraduate coursework towards gaining
entry into a dual Economics/Social Sciences
graduate studies program at the University
of Houston.
Elisa is bilingual, with oral and written fluency
in English and Spanish. When she’s not working
to make our community a better place, she
enjoys cooking and running. Elisa has a
15-year-old son who is interested in becoming a
surgeon, and who currently enjoys customizing
Legos and making props from raw materials.
Vo l u n t e e r S p o t l i g h t — H e i d i B o d e - P a ff e n h o l z
by Ann James
t's not
uncommon to
hear someone
say, "I had never
heard of hospice care
before." And so
it was with Heidi
Bode-Paffenholz
back in 2004. She was
in the midst of
undergoing her own cancer treatments when
she befriended a woman experiencing the same.
"You get to know a lot of patients when you
are doing chemo and radiation," she said. The
woman died without hospice care, which
fueled Heidi's desire to help others during their
end-of-life journeys. She researched and chose
Houston Hospice because it is a nonprofit.
In 2006 she became a Houston Hospice
volunteer and felt visiting people in their homes
would be the best fit for her. Heidi enjoys being
a homecare volunteer, although she visits the
in-patient unit occasionally when her patients
are transferred there. She can't recall exactly
how many patients she has had the privilege of
seeing over the years, and many she will never
forget found a place in her heart. She
spoke fondly of two who greatly impacted
her life.
Klara, Heidi's first homecare patient, was an
85-year-old German lady who lived alone with
caregivers checking on her several times a
day. She and Heidi were a perfect match, as
Heidi is also German, having moved to the
United States in 1986. For over a year, Heidi
made the challenging drive twice weekly from
Missouri City to the Heights to spend time
with Klara. "We would talk about old times
in Germany, I would bring her German
food and we would listen to German
music together."
They grew close, and it was very gratifying for
both of them. She recalled that during one of
their exchanges, Klara told her about a favorite
cat she had as a little girl. "During her last days,
she was seeing and talking to her childhood cat
whom she said she could see sitting in the
corner of the room." The quality time the two
shared was very rewarding
and allowed Heidi to feel
she was doing something
very worthwhile for
someone who
had no
family.
Another
patient
she will
never forget was a two-week-old baby girl she
saw only one time. The infant gave Heidi a
whole new perspective on her own life. "She
taught me how precious life is, and how we
take for granted the simplest things like the
warmth of the sun on our arms. I realized there
was so much this fragile, sweet baby would
never see, or hear or experience that I do
every day."
When Heidi began volunteering, she never
dreamed that just being there for others
facing death would be a gift to them, and in
return their gifts to her were important lessons
she would live by throughout the rest of her
life. Speaking from experience, her advice to
hospice volunteers new and old is, "Be open to
anything and everything, have an open heart,
and never have preconceived notions. It is an
honor and a blessing to share time
with our patients."
Helping Friends Cope With the Death of Pet
rieving is a difficult process, but grieving the loss of a pet can be
uncharted territory. Tripp Carter, the Co-Founder of
Bradshaw-Carter Funeral Home, writes in The Grieving Process:
Helping Friends Cope with the Passing of a Pet that we all have personal methods
of coping. Regardless of the circumstances, there are steps friends can take
to help someone handle the loss of a pet. First and foremost, be available to
your friend who just lost a beloved animal.
The worst feeling any person can experience is reaching out to somebody
who is not there. If you were unavailable when first contacted, make every
effort to get in touch with and visit the grieving friend. This helps validate
their feelings and make them feel appreciated. To read the full article you
can visit www.bradshawcarter.com/help-friends-cope-passing-of-pet.
FALL 2015
THANK YOU
HOUSTON QUILT GUILD
for your continued donations of
beautiful lap quilts to our
patients and their families!
Above: Patsy Piner was
presented with 25 quilts on
July 17, 2015.
PAGE 3
MISSION STATEMENT
Houston Hospice provides uncompromising,
compassionate end-of-life care to patients and families
in our community.
Houston Hospice
1905 Holcombe Boulevard
Houston, Texas 77030-4123
Through the efforts of specially trained and highly skilled
interdisciplinary teams of health care professionals and volunteers,
Houston Hospice patients and their families are guided through
the process of illness by receiving clinical care, psychosocial support,
spiritual guidance and volunteer assistance.
Phone: 713-467-7423
Website: www.houstonhospice.org
Hospice Room 101
Patsy Piner
s I sat by the bedside in hospice room 101,
a feeling of helplessness swept over me. I
had been here before when I held the
hand of my own precious mother as she lay
dying in this hospice. Now that I worked at a
hospice, I thought I should have some answers,
be able to do something meaningful, be in
control. But I had no answers, I couldn’t think
of anything to do, and I certainly was not in
control. The longer I sat and held the hand of
my dying mother-in-law, a wonderful woman
and a part of my life for more than thirty years,
the more it became apparent that I was doing all
I could do...I was being her daughter-in-law.
We, the Texas Piners, were the last to arrive at
the hospice. Agony was etched on the faces of
my father-in-law and his daughters when they
saw us. My husband, Brad, the youngest, went
to his mother, his lifelong champion, and
whispered that he would not leave her. He held
her hand, kissed her cheek and gently smoothed
her hair. Though she was unresponsive and
unable to acknowledge his actions, we all knew
she was probably waiting for his arrival. His
appearance could be the beginning of the end.
The hospice team did what they do so well.
They kept my mother-in-law comfortable,
answered our questions graciously, provided for
our needs and let our family work through this
unwelcome trauma in our own way.
So, we began to do the only things we could do.
We sat and watched and prayed and cried and
waited. Hospice room 101 became the center of
our universe. Her beloved grandchildren came
one by one, almost always fleeing the room with
tears streaming down their cheeks, seeking
solace in the hallways and gardens. They walked
and talked and cried together. Somehow, it was
comforting for them to read the names on the
bricks in the gardens. The bricks were proof
that other families who had been here before us
had found ways to survive, heal and remember.
They represented hope that the Piner family
might be able to do the same one day.
PAGE 4
Food and sleep became necessary evils. In our
efforts to take care of one another, an informal
schedule evolved. In small groups, we left the
hospice for about two hours at a time, needing
to go, but hating every minute away. Life
became tedious for us as we waited. As Mom
Piner began to slip away, we closed ranks.
Perhaps we thought if we covered her with our
love we would be able to keep death out of
hospice room 101. We shut the door and closed
the blinds. Everyone had read and reread the
pamphlet describing the signs of approaching
death. We stared at Mom’s chest, counted
breaths and held our own as we waited for her
next. Each breath a triumph. Her warm, pink
hands became more and more precious to hold.
Waiting became hard work.
He put his arm around this
strong, but heartbroken,
eighty-four year old man and
said, “Tell me how you met
Bonnie.” ...We sat mesmerized
as my father-in-law told of a
basketball game and barn
dance.
Thursday morning, as her daughter and
granddaughters tried to sleep on a sofa bed in
the family room, death came. A small group, her
husband of almost sixty-three years, my
husband who was her baby, her niece, Linda
and me surrounded her. She gently, quietly quit
breathing while we were reminiscing about days
gone by. Her niece, Linda, noticed first. She
checked her breathing, looked at me, and we
fled the room each with a mission. Her two
beloved men stayed behind, fulfilling the
promise not to leave her side. Linda went to get
the nurse, and I ran to the family room.
After making calls to friends and family
members, we gathered back in room 101,
FALL 2015
almost as if a schedule had been issued, and
waited for the chaplain to lead a family prayer.
His prayer was beautiful but long. We began to
fidget. Our attention spans were shrinking. We
were unable to focus. The chaplain offered his
condolences then he sat down next to Mr.
Piner. He put his arm around this strong, but
heartbroken, eighty-four year old man and said,
“Tell me how you met Bonnie.” The story that
followed was a precious gift that my daughters
and I had never heard and included details that
even my husband did not know. We sat
mesmerized as my father-in-law told of a
basketball game and barn dance.
It was time to leave hospice room 101. We
needed to move our family headquarters back to
the Piner home. Volunteers stood at the door,
like long time friends and waved good-bye.
Slowly, with tears in my eyes, I left The Hospice
of Cincinnati behind me for a second time.
I will never look at the family members in our
hospice in the same manner again, because I
have been one of them, twice. I know the
warmth of a smile and a gentle touch. I have
been with people I would never see again, who
waited quietly in the wings to help. I have cried
on the shoulder of a person whose name I did
not know. I know the agony of needing to leave
but the inability to go. I know the frustration of
wanting to say something, but not being able to
find the words. I know the feeling of being
sleep deprived but unable to rest. I know the
importance of someone asking how I was doing
and waiting to hear my answer. I have been too
tired to pray for my family but have felt the
assurance that others were praying for us. I
know the pain of asking how much time is left
and not wanting to hear the answer. I have lived
in a hospice room and waited for death.
Written in loving memory of my wonderful mother-in-law
Bonnetta Fay Piner
August 13, 1915 - August 20, 1998
You can find more of Patsy’s wonderful stories on the
Houston Hospice blog at www.houstonhospice.org.