Now that my mother’s long, last road has finally come to an end, I would like to reflect on how very much I appreciate you and your team and how you took such amazing care of my mother (and, therefore, of me).

There are so many specifics; I don’t know where to begin.  So, if my very best friend needed care for a loved one, this is what I would say:

·         Carma always knew the right thing to do.  Whether it was a real medical necessity or an emotional need, Carma responded appropriately.  Yet, I never felt “managed.”  I felt loved and cared for, as did my mother.

·         Carma always knew the right thing to say.  I marveled at her questions to my mother and then her responses to my mother’s comments and questions.  I so appreciated her explanations to my mother and those to me–  the same information, presented so very differently for our different needs.

·         Carma was always dependable.  I knew she would be there when my mother needed her.  I knew that the staff at Cove Point could always reach her.  I knew that she would always call me back and follow through.  She never, ever disappointed me or even made me wait.

·         Carma was always right.  Well, we all thought my mother was going to die sooner than she did, so “right” might be relative.   However, she looked beyond the obvious and clichéd to find true cause of action, thought, or symptom—all indicative of experience and common sense and just downright “smarts.”

·         Carma was always loving and thoughtful.  She was so very kind to my mother, who was not always easy to be kind to.  And she was kind to me, which, in my opinion, was beyond her “job description.”

·         Carma was always cute and fun.  Dying is awful on everyone, so bringing a smile and an easy laugh and a cheerful (yet direct!) attitude makes so much difference.  She was charming and gracious every day.  Every time.  Every day.

So, that’s what I would tell my best friend.

Thank you, Carma.  I trusted you so much, and you exceeded my every expectation.  You were the element in the last eight months of my mother’s life that made it possible for me to do all the other things that I really had to do for my career, for my daughter and grandson, for my husband, for my own health.  I seriously do not believe I could have survived without you, and I am eternally grateful.

With love, hugs, and all my wishes for a successful, healthy, and happy life,

Sherron

Sherron Bienvenu, PhD

We met Maggie after she had been discharged to her home from a two month hospitalization.  Maggie is 85 years old and lives with her husband and two dogs in the split-entry house that has been their home for 45 years.   She has a long history of well-managed but progressive heart disease.  In February, however, she had a surprise.  She started having shortness of breath and a tightening in her chest.  She went to the emergency room and was immediately admitted to the hospital. She stayed there for two months slowly recuperating.   She finally told her doctor  “I can’t get better here, I have to go home.”  He took her advice and sent her home.

After being greeted by her dogs, we were escorted by her husband to the place where Maggie was resting.  Her husband is a jolly guy but oh-so-hard of hearing; and he has multiple medical problems of his own that limit him from being able help to her.  The phone was ringing with well-wishers, neighbors were stopping by to check in and Maggie was doing her best to be polite and gracious.   She had been independent prior to her hospitalization, an avid reader and very involved with her grandchildren and life which was very obvious.  However, we found Maggie to be weak, unsteady, unsure and a list of new medications she didn’t fully understand.  Life had changed for her over the last two months and it was going to take a while to get back to living.

After listening to Maggie it was clear she was uncertain, scared and wondering if she had made the right decision to come home.   After assessing her condition, we found that her oxygen was low, her legs and feet swollen. She was nauseas and not able to eat and she was short of breath with minimal exertion all  of which was limiting her ability to return to the things she enjoyed

After consulting with her physician, we immediately had oxygen delivered to her home. We carefully reviewed her medications with her. We made the necessary adjustments to get the swelling down and the nausea under control.   Physical therapy was started to help her get her strength back. Occupational therapy came in and assessed her home for safety, installing safety bars in her bathroom.  A home health aide was assigned to help her bathe.  We assisted Maggie in setting up follow up appointments with her physicians ensuring her medical needs would continue to be met.  After 3 weeks, Maggie was back to managing her own meds. She could shower alone; and after 6 weeks she was back to her normal activities and no longer needed the oxygen.  Maggie was able to go from one level of their home to the other without assistance, returning her independence.

Maple Creek Home Health and Hospice has since talked with Maggie, as part of our follow up program We are pleased to say she is doing well and looking forward to the summer.

Maple Creek Home Health care is focused on you and how best to treat your conditions.  You will not hear cell phones ringing, see staff texting, or wonder if we are coming.  We will do what we say.  Our staff is fully licensed by the state and have had full background checks to ensure your safety.

Tim was a 42 year old man who had been in an automobile accident at the age of 10.  The accident left him physically dependent for all his needs, including feedings through a tube, bathing, diapering etc.  He also suffered a brain injury that left him unable to speak or communicate with those around him. His body suffered from contractures and atrophy.

As he lay in his bed, year after year for 32 years, his mother watched her little boy develop into an adult with graying hair.

Tim never got to experience the things little boys and teenagers and young adults’ experience.  What Tim did experience was his mother’s and fathers unselfish and undying love.  His mother, while devoting herself to his care, also cared for his paraplegic father, who had been in a motor-vehicle accident.

We met Tim after receiving a call from his mom reporting something was not quite right. We assessed Tim’s condition and found his little body was starting to shut down.

His mom and dad had the option of rushing him to a hospital; but after caring for him for 32 years they decided to continue their care at home.  We talked about his symptoms and how we would manage them. Together we arranged for Tim to be comfortable and to remain in his home.

After several weeks, Tim’s little body finally gave up.  His mom, dad and sisters were all by his side reminiscing, looking at pictures and telling stories when he took his last breath.   They all huddled around him, hugging him, kissing him and expressing their love for him.

His funeral was held to celebrate his life and the love he brought to his family.  The church where the funeral was not large enough to hold the hundreds of friends Tim had touched during his short life.

For a little boy who never experienced adulthood, he taught us all so much.

I have been a nurse for 25 years.  I graduated as a Licensed Practical Nurse in 1985 from Salt Lake Community College, then went on to receive my RN from Weber State in 1987.

I’ve worked in Utah from Ogden to St. George and have some wonderful memories of families I’ve met along the way.  In nursing school we were taught to take care of patients.  We did everything from back rubs to administering extensive medications and treatments.  We were taught to get to know our patients, not just by disease, but at an emotional level.  What motivates them and what factors influence their health decisions. What I found in a hospital setting was not exactly what I had envisioned.

Hospitals are critical parts of our health-care system and I deeply admire the expert care patients receive there.   However when patients are admitted to the hospital their individuality is quickly

put into a hospital gown and assigned a room number.

Imagine me as a young nurse when I heard patients being referred to as “the patient in room 102.” Even worse “the gallbladder in room 102.”   The hospital’s job is to improve a patient’s condition and get them home.

But then what?

Most often, an illness is chronic and still problematic when people are sent home.  But there’s no one there to monitor them or making sure the right medications are taken at the right time.  And who helps them fix lunch, after they just had a knee replacement? Who does the grocery shopping?  Home Health and Hospice.

After 10 years working in hospitals, I had my first opportunity to work in the home health and hospice setting.   Finally I was given the opportunity to fully practice the personal aspects of nursing I had learned in school.  Patients are people with feelings and emotions.

They have fascinating backgrounds and unique needs. They are not room numbers or an illness.  They are my Mom, Grandmother, neighbor and friend.  Once I became a home health and hospice nurse, I never looked back.

Maple Creek Home Health and Hospice is the culmination of my work in the field for two decades.  I love this work.  I love the people who invite me into their homes.  I have a deep appreciation and respect

For the struggles families face every day.  I love improving the quality of peoples’ lives when they are facing challenges.  It is my commitment to provide for you the exceptional care you deserve.

In this day and age of fast paced, high tech, hurry up and move on, we take a different approach. We at Maple Creek Home Health and Hospice promise to give you the time and attention you have earned. We will take the time to educate and answer all of your questions. We will not be texting or talking on the phone, we will call if we are delayed. You will have our undivided attention while we are in your home. We consider it an honor and a privilege to be of service to you.