Stan was adjusting to life as a widower when he was diagnosed with terminal cancer in the fall of 2020. He had worked in construction for decades, both as a tradesperson and business owner, and had been exposed to asbestos many times. Now, he had developed mesothelioma and had just months left to live.
It was devastating news for Stan and his family. His daughter, Luanne, explains that her mom, Louise, had passed away one year earlier, after difficult two-and-a-half months in palliative care. Although treated with care and compassion the family felt she didn’t receive the care she needed — and deserved.
Stan did not want to die the same way.
“My Dad’s fervent wish was to spend whatever time he had left at home,” says Luanne. She and her family did all they could to make Stan comfortable at home, arranging for at-home nursing care. Over the coming months, his family — which included four children, 12 grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren — spent as much time with him as they could. This meant a lot to Stan, who loved his family dearly. His family loved him just as much; to them, he had always been a wise counsellor, mentor, and willing helper.
Although heartbroken, Luanne made a pact with her father to make the most of their time together by living in the here and now. She told him, “I’m not going to start grieving you yet, because today you’re here.”
In January, Stan’s health declined rapidly and it became clear that he needed more care than the family could provide at home. Stan’s family dreaded the thought of their dad spending his final days in a hospital. That’s when Stan’s doctor told the family about the Roozen Family Hospice Centre, Edmonton’s first free-standing, community hospice.
It sounded almost too good to be true, but when Luanne contacted the hospice, they were able to accept her dad as a resident — the very first resident. So, on a cold winter day, the family moved Stan from his home of many decades to his final home, just minutes away.
“From the moment he got there, he was treated with respect and compassion,” says Luanne. Staff assembled at the front door to greet Stan warmly and, later, took the time to get to know him personally. Even the resident chef, Pierre, came out of the kitchen to ask Stan about his favourite foods and chat about his life. They bonded over a mutual interest in hunting.
That night, Luanne hesitated to leave the hospice, fearing her dad would be alone at night as her mom had been. A kindly staff member told her she could go home to sleep in her own bed: “They told me, ‘No one dies alone here.’ ”
When Stan passed away, just days after arriving, hospice staff allowed his family as much time as they needed to say goodbye. For the Walk of Honour Ceremony, he was covered in a beautiful sunflower-patterned quilt. Hospice nurse, Mike, shared a few words about Stan, and conveyed appreciation to his family, for allowing the staff the honour of caring for Stan in his final days. Each and every staff member was loving and gentle with the family as they navigated their immediate feelings of grief and loss.
“It was absolutely clear to us that at every step of the journey, hospice staff make very intentional decisions to care for the residents and those who care for them,” she says. Almost everything about the experience was different from her mom’s final days. “The emotional difference was profound. We left hospice with a sense of peace.”
You can help us continue supporting residents like Stan — and their families — as they come to the end of their journeys.