A matter of life and death
Hospice nurse Sheila Duffy followed her calling to the very end
by Richard P. Morin
Being a veteran nurse, Sheila A. Duffy knew all too well
DAVE AND SHEILA DUFFY
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she faced certain death when diagnosed with stage-four lung cancer in November of 1995.
Although the diagnosis shocked and frightened family and friends, Sheila, who only
months earlier had had a clear chest X-ray, remained calm.
She patiently listened to the doctors as they presented aggressive treatments
aimed to prolong her life for weeks or possibly months. Though she would fight
with all her strength, Sheila made it clear to doctors and those close to her
she would not participate in any treatments that would inhibit the quality of
her life.
Sheila said from the outset she was not afraid to die, "but just watch how I
fight," says her husband, Dave Duffy. She ultimately wanted to direct the
course of her death.
Sheila Duffy was a beautiful woman known to many in Rhode Island for her
passion for gardening and books. Since her husband, Dave, had built one of
Rhode Island's premiere advertising agencies, Duffy & Shanley, Sheila had
long been in the public eye, and she used her visibility to work for several
social causes in the Ocean State. Beyond her public and family life, Sheila had
built a successful career as a hospice nurse with the Visiting Nurses
Association of Rhode Island.
"She was an incredibly caring and dedicated nurse," says Jane Goff, a close
friend of Sheila's and a hospice nurse with VNA. "She didn't do it [become a
hospice nurse] for money. Her husband could certainly provide her with anything
she would ever want. She did it because she loved people. And she touched
everyone she worked with."
Now Sheila, a lifelong caregiver to her family and patients, was in need of
care herself. Unwavering in her convictions, she chose to approach her
impending death through hospice care.
To many, hospice is a place where people are sent to die. But in reality, the
goal of hospice is for the terminally ill to remain in their own homes for as
long as possible. In many instances, people in the care of hospice pass away
surrounded by loved ones.
Since hospice care first appeared in the United States in 1974, it has been
criticized for being too aggressive in trying to prepare people for death. Some
have complained that hospice is too rigid, too expecting and demanding of
patients and their families. Despite these criticisms, hospice is gaining in
acceptance across the nation.
Indeed, most private insurance companies, including HMOs, now offer hospice
coverage, and there's Medicare coverage nationwide, a benefit Congress made
permanent in 1986. Most states also offer Medicaid coverage.
And this increased availability of hospice care coverage has led to a boom in
hospices. In 1985, for instance, there were 1400 hospices and 158,000 hospice
patients in the US. By last year, those numbers had more than doubled,
according to the National Hospice Organization.
With the Supreme Court's recent ruling that individual states should determine
the legality of physician-assisted suicide, the numbers probably will continue
to climb as more people explore alternatives in states where physician-assisted
suicide is banned, say national experts on death and dying.
"The best thing that Dr. Kevorkian did was focus the nation's attention on how
poorly we deal with end-of-life care," says Dr. John Shuster, medical director
of the University of Alabama at Birmingham Hospice.
In a recent American Medical Association survey, 52 percent of the 1000
Americans surveyed said if they faced a painful death, they would want a doctor
to help them end their life. But when informed that hospice care could keep
them comfortable and maintain their dignity, 86 percent said they would use
hospice care, and only 14 percent favored physician-assisted suicide.
"The one thing we hear the most when we interview families who have utilized
hospice care is that they wish they knew of the program sooner," says Dr. Ed
Martin, medical director of Hospice Care of Rhode Island.
Some people in the hospice movement say the public's ignorance about hospice
care is a result of the medical community's inability to deal with death and
dying issues. "Many doctors are simply not accepting or don't know what hospice
is all about," says Elise NeDell Babcock, author of When Life Become
Precious. "That needs to change, and the only place for that to happen is
in the medical schools. People want to know their options, and, in many cases,
they are not receiving them from their own physicians."
Hospice care offers a team approach to providing quality of life for the
terminally ill. There are nurses, physical therapists, social workers,
chaplains, and doctors, all of whom work with patients and their families. Of
course, the first priority of hospice care is always to stabilize a patient's
pain and other symptoms of discomfort, such as nausea, sleeplessness,
depression, anxiety, and confusion.
"Once we get the pain under control, they eat better, sleep better, and often
their depression lifts," says Goff. "We know we are not going to cure them, but
we can make them comfortable."
After this, patients and their families are encouraged to discuss end-of-life
issues and to heal old wounds. "One of the key things is helping people be
pain-free so they can take care of any unfinished business," says David Rehm,
president and CEO of Hospice Care of Rhode Island, the nation's third oldest
hospice program. Social workers work with family members to begin the
bereavement process and to emotionally prepare for the next stages in their
life.
While hospice care is a highly flexible approach, leaving it up to patients
and their families to decide what their quality of life should be, hospice
workers agree that it is not for everyone. "But in my experience, hospice
patients often feel that their last days become the best days of their lives.
And hospice nurses help achieve that," says Sandra Hooper, director of adult
services for VNA of Rhode Island. And Hooper should know -- her own father
received hospice care in the last days of his life.
Sheila Duffy was determined to enjoy the last days of her life as well.
While she could have moved her care and treatment to Boston, as some close to
her suggested, she chose to remain with her oncologist, Dr. Sundaresan T.
Sambandam, in Rhode Island.
"She told me right from the beginning, `You are not going to be flying me all
over the world,' " says Dave. "She saw a very spiritual side to Dr. Sam that
she was very comfortable with."
After enjoying Christmas with family and friends, Sheila began radiation
treatments. Shortly thereafter, she went for chemotherapy every three weeks. In
between treatments, which lasted until May, Sheila and Dave slipped away for
trips.
"Over the course of the year, we got to California twice [where their son,
Jon, and his family lived], Florida twice, and 90 days before her death we were
in Italy," says Dave. "The one thing she had the most trouble with dying is
whether or not she would have time to bond with her (infant) granddaughter,
Megan, and whether she would know her. In the end, I think she was able to do
that."
Although Sheila eschewed experimental treatments, she did seek treatment from
a holistic doctor in Newburyport, Massachusetts. The doctor prescribed a new
diet aimed at strengthening Sheila's immune system, which had been weakened by
the cancer. "Boy, did we live at Bread & Circus," jokes Dave.
The new diet and the radiation treatments and chemotherapy left Sheila in good
spirits. She tended to her gardens, went to her book club and lived a seemingly
normal life. But Sheila, despite the encouraging signs, never lost contact with
the hospice unit, where she stopped working shortly after her diagnosis.
"Sheila was an amazing person," says Hooper. "She felt participating in
hospice care at the end of her life would only make her a better hospice nurse.
She talked the talk and walked the walk."
Relying on her own experience as a hospice nurse and the encouragement of
those in the hospice community, Sheila began to prepare for her last days.
"Unbeknownst to me, she started to develop her own way of saying goodbye to
people. As an avid gardener, she would send certain people bulbs. I get letters
today from friends and family saying the blooming flowers remind them of
Sheila," says Dave.
"It was Sheila's generous spirit that helped her deal with her illness with
grace and dignity," says Dr. Sambandam. "Sheila had a wonderful frame of mind.
She was determined to have a good time. And with the support of her wonderful
family and friends, she was able to do that.
"I really believe the fact that she was so giving was the reason she was
spared a more horrible death," he says.
In October 1996, Sheila started to physically waver. "That is when the war
started again," says Dave. Hospice care started to take a more active role,
with nursing aides helping around the house and the hospice team stopping to
talk with Sheila for hours.
Since the first hospice unit opened in the US some 23 years ago, doctors
and hospice workers have clashed over end-of-life issues. "While hospice
accepts and embraces death as a part of life, doctors often approach a
patient's death as a failure. They often say they failed treatment," says
Babcock.
Shuster says technology has also played a role in a doctor's tendency to
dismiss hospice care. "Doctors, and in many instances families and patients,
believe that with all the technological advances our society has seen that
there is always something else they can try," he says.
Realizing that doctors are failing patients in their end-of-life care, the
American Medical Association has launched a national educational campaign to
teach the medical community about treating pain and other symptoms common in
those who are dying.
Rehm says the time is right, particularly in Rhode Island, for hospices, the
Brown University School of Medicine, and the medical community to come together
and work toward improving end-of-life care.
"It is my goal to see that what we have learned in hospice about pain
management can be transferred to the medical schools, nursing homes, and
hospitals," he says.
Often, when doctors admit nothing more can be done to cure a patient, they
also say there is nothing more they can do for the patient. But those in the
hospice movement say much more can be done to ease a patient's pain and
suffering during the last days of their lives. In many respects, this is
some of the most important medical care a patient will ever receive, Shuster
says.
In Sheila's case, as her illness progressed and a brain biopsy revealed
several small tumors, doctors pushed for brain surgery, but Sheila "said right
away, `I will not have invasive brain surgery,' " says Dave. "She wanted to
enjoy her last Christmas at home, not in a hospital."
So instead of surgery, Sheila underwent an alternative 13-hour treatment. The
next morning, she awoke and headed home for her book club meeting. "She vowed
never to go back into the hospital, and she didn't," says Dave.
During her last days, Sheila Duffy threw a Christmas party to thank all her
close friends for sharing in her life. A busload of partygoers, including
Sheila and Dave, went to downtown Bristol to watch the ceremonial lighting of
the town Christmas tree.
"All of a sudden, she was gone," says Dave. "She darted through the crowd and
went under the tree. When I finally caught up to her, she was crying. I asked
her what was wrong. She said, `This is my last Christmas.' "
Sheila enjoyed the holiday season, telling Dave it was her best ever. By
mid-January, though, she had become much weaker. Sheila called a local priest
and talked with him for hours. Then she spoke to Dave.
"She said she was worried about her garden and that I couldn't cook," says
Dave. "On Sunday, she told me what was going to happen. She said she would lose
touch, but if I had anything to say, to speak into her ear, because hearing was
the last sense to go. Then she said she would appear to be in a great deal of
pain. Then she would become incontinent. Then I should begin to pray."
Two days after their fateful conversation Dave was awakened one evening by
Sheila's thrashing. "I administered the morphine to ease her pain. But I didn't
have my wits about me. As much as you try to prepare yourself, when the time
comes, you are never ready," Dave says. "I was like a soldier in battle."
It took the hospice nurses all Wednesday morning to stabilize Sheila. She was
then moved to a hospital bed placed in the Duffys' bedroom overlooking the
ocean.
Two days later, with the sun sparkling off the water and several hospice
workers and friends gathered around her, Sheila Duffy slipped away pain-free at
the age of 56. "They [the hospice workers] took a lot of the burden away," says
Dave. "They were absolute angels."
In their last months together, Dave and Sheila not only discussed what was
next in Dave's life and her own funeral arrangements but set up an endowment
with the Rhode Island Foundation to provide funds for hospice nurse training.
Today, the endowment contains more than $52,000 and continues to grow.
"I didn't realize how many people Sheila touched as a hospice nurse. I always
knew how dedicated she was to those people. She would often sleep with her
beeper. I would wake up and she would be gone," says Dave. "When they came to
pay their respects and when the letters came from families that she helped with
donations to the fund, I was deeply touched."
Hooper says Sheila was the heart and soul of the hospice care team at the VNA.
"She was so dedicated to her patients. Whatever it took to make them
comfortable, she did. We were just glad that we were able to do the same for
her."
Though it is some six months after Sheila's death, hospice workers still check
up on Dave and his family to see how they are doing, something they do with
every patient.
"I know she died by her rules in her own way, in her own home and with
excellent care. There was nothing sterile or hospital-like about her death,"
says Dave. "I know it is impossible for everyone to go that way, but if they
have the right attitude and family, that is the greatest way one can leave this
earth."