A home rather than a hospital: Joe Green reflects on his final days in hospice care
Downtown's only residential hospice lets family focus on time together, rather than caregiving
Joe Green is in his "fourth act."
One of the founding deans of fine arts at York University and a former film and television producer, Joe today is sitting by the fireplace at Kensington Hospice, sipping from a mug of tea and telling stories.
About his work. About his family. About the 60th anniversary he'll mark with his wife, Rhoda, this Friday.
But he also talks about death, a subject that's hard to avoid given where he's living.
'You're here to move on'
He's quick to point out that he's a resident and not a patient. He's one of just 10 people staying at the hospice on Major Street.
No one receives treatment there to get better. Instead the focus is on care, comfort, and easing pain. Everyone at the hospice has only weeks or months to live.
"You're here to move on," Joe says, in between sips of tea, in the hospice's great room. "It's a little spooky."
Joe, Rhoda, and their two sons, Michael, 57, and Marc, 54, hadn't talked too much about death and dying before his cancer diagnosis.
But after battling bladder and kidney cancer in 2015, the family learned this past Thanksgiving that the disease had spread again.
Instead of returning to the palliative care unit at the Princess Margaret Cancer Centre, Joe, as everyone calls him, decided to move into the hospice.
Feels like home
Kensington Hospice is the only residential hospice in downtown Toronto. It's a non-profit organization funded by donations and the Ministry of Health; residents do not pay for their stay.
Since opening in 2011, staff have cared for more than 500 residents at the end of their lives.
Part of the philosophy is people deserve the same care when they die, as the day they were born, the hospice's executive director said.
"We want to make it more like a home environment, not a hospital," Bill O'Neill said.
There are no overhead pages coming through on loud speakers; hallways are mostly quiet, except when a volunteer or family member sits down at the piano.
And, during a recent visit, there's a familiar smell of fresh vegetables frying on the stove; volunteers prepare all meals in an open kitchen on the second level.
"It's more normal," said O'Neill. "Just because someone is going through the process of dying, it doesn't mean they have to be institutionalized."
A great ride
Food is on Joe's mind. Steak, specifically.
"I found out just today that if we bring in a steak, they will grill it for me," Joe said, smiling. "And I haven't had a steak for half a decade. I think we'll try it before I go. Why not?"
The father and grandfather says he's grateful for hospice staff, who have allowed his family the freedom to focus on spending time together.
"It's been a great ride, I have no regrets," Joe said. "You're never ready — you don't want to go — [but] I guess I'm as ready as you can be."
He's made a promise, however, to keep going until at least Friday.
That's when he and Rhoda will celebrate 60 years spent together. The couple, originally from New York, helped U.S. draft dodgers in the '70s, housing them in their basement in Toronto. Later, they campaigned for Bill Clinton and Barack Obama with Democrats Abroad Canada.
The family has planned a small gathering to mark the couple's life, well lived, together.
Joe already has two bottles of champagne ready, one a present from a fellow resident who passed away several days ago.
"What else can you ask for? I have a great family, great kids, great wife," Joe said. "I'm blessed."
He smiles, then. And sips his tea.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
