Some years ago, I was afflicted by an extreme form of a common disease that affected forever how I think about life, illness, wellness and care giving. It was also the start of the long journey that led me to hospice work and animal hospice care specifically. Over the course of that 2 years, I visited the emergency room 14 times, was admitted to the hospital six times for stays of 3-7 days each, saw more than a dozen different doctors/specialists, tried more than 60 different conventional treatment options and at least a dozen alternative modalities. There were many days when I thought I would never get better, some days when I thought I would die, and more than a few when I wanted to give up.
I had doctors who distrusted me, doctors who were intrigued by me, doctors who sadly shook their heads and said nothing could be done, doctors who said I just had to accept my "new reality", doctors who excitedly wanted to test out their new theory or treatment on me. And
one who kindly and compassionately stood by me always and persisted, eventually successfully, in his goal to cure me.
Through all the ER visits, all the days and nights in the hospital, all the trips to specialists and new clinics, my husband and I encountered hundreds of caregivers from doctors to nurses to technicians to fellows to residents to administrators. Whenever we set out to get help, the one thing that was on the forefront of my mind was this: