The Death Doula Diaries

Part One: When hospice failed us, we turned to alternative care and my dying mother is more at peace than ever

Lonna Whiting

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My mom’s been living with early-onset Alzheimer’s since she was about 58 but wasn’t diagnosed until age 61.

Since then, we’ve gone through all the stages and progressions and plateaus, the aggressions, mood changes and sundowning. We’ve experienced all the ways the health care industrial complex cheats, abandons and ignores.

We’ve navigated Medicare, Medicaid, Social Security Disability Insurance, Social Security, hospices, and more social workers and health care providers than I can count, and suddenly (and since forever), I’m here helping Mom in her late-stage disease progression.

We’ve bent many walls to get to the other side, most of the time depending on social programs to support the estimated $7,000-$10,000 a month it costs to provide basic care for someone in late-stage dementia.

But when my mother was live discharged from hospice care, it felt like the wall in front of me grew a little taller, a little extra insurmountable. Completely unbendable.

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Lonna Whiting

Writer, foundress of nothing. Exploring loss, existence, and the female left-handed experience.