In between the rare times when Don Claeys isn’t pestering Ruth, his wife of more than 50 years, or she isn’t saying “Oh, Don,” and rolling her eyes at his bad jokes, they talk about their favorite patients.
Don has a few, including Elrod, whose name (and all patient names) has been changed in this writing due to patient privacy laws. There were times when Don couldn’t understand Elrod. He was close to death, as are all the patients the couple visits, and sometimes that hinders their ability to talk. But in Elrod’s case, Don couldn’t understand him because he was so smart. Both Don and Ruth are retired school principals, but Elrod was so intelligent that many things he said went right over Don’s head.
Blanchard, on the other hand, was like a cute schoolgirl at times, Ruth says. Ruth loved Blanchard’s stories about growing up—one time, her sister rode her bike without permission, and she smacked her on the back, earning her a spanking—all stories she’d recall as she and Ruth did crossword puzzles together.
Blanchard passed away in mid-August, just a week before Don and Ruth sat in the office at AccentCare Hospice & Palliative Care in Loveland to talk about the time they’ve spent with dozens of patients. Hospice, of course, prepares people for death, making them as comfortable as possible before they pass on. One way AccentCare accomplishes that is with volunteers like Ruth and Don, who spend an hour a week keeping them company. In February, the Claeys celebrated their 10th anniversary volunteering as patient companions with the organization.
Ruth and Don with AccentCare staff at a volunteer appreciation event.
Don, who fought in Vietnam as a U.S. Army soldier, mostly spends time with veterans. They swap stories about the military, talk about baseball or the weather and play dominoes. Ruth sees mostly widows, though a favorite patient of hers and Don’s was a man, Fred, a quiet fellow whose wife was also in hospice. Don would see Fred, and Ruth would see his wife. After Fred’s wife died, Ruth would spend time with him too, and he opened up, answering her questions with long biographical passages.
Occasionally Don and Ruth sit with patients for the last few hours of their lives, but most of the time, they spend a few weeks or months with one person. Sometimes that can stretch into a year or two. That was Elrod. That was Blanchard.
If it seems like tough work, to essentially watch someone die, well, it can be.
“The first time someone died, I broke down,” Ruth says. “I’d never seen that before.”
Ruth says she volunteers because she was raised that way. She remembers watching her father leave the house to spend hours visiting his friends in a nursing home, and he’d always come home with a smile.
“When you are born, everyone is joyous,” Ruth says, “and when you pass, sometimes no one is around to see you go. That’s sad.”
Both were used to tough cases as school principals in South Dakota, where they spent most of their years before moving to Firestone nearly 15 years ago. They saw a lot of bad things happen to their students. Don even volunteered as a Court Appointed Special Advocate, someone who serves as a powerful voice for children who have been abused or neglected as they navigate the court system.
The couple has learned not to have any expectations for the patients they see. Some don’t (or can’t) talk much, but their visits usually do wonders both for the patients and their families. An hour away for caregivers can make a huge difference.
When they first started volunteering, Don and Ruth received 15 hours of training to know what to do in emergencies as well as what not to do, such as feed patients.
The staff considers the Claeys a part of their team now. They invite them to their cookouts, and they’ve even absorbed some of Don’s ribbing.
“Our patients love them,” says Christy Haeuptle, AccentCare hospice volunteer services coordinator, “and so does our staff.”
They’re as important as the staff in some ways. Don and Ruth were the only ones visiting patients a couple of years ago, even after the COVID-19 pandemic subsided.
“We cannot do our jobs in providing a full circle of care to patients without volunteers like them,” Haeuptle says.
Ruth no longer breaks down when patients pass, but death hasn’t gotten easier for her either. She just has a different perspective. A couple of years ago, she had bacterial meningitis, which caused a stroke. Doctors essentially had to revive her, she says. She and Don are both 77. You just never know what will happen.
“It’s reality,” Ruth says. “I appreciate life a little more every day now.”
She is glad for Blanchard and the conversations they had over crossword puzzles, but she doesn’t plan to take on a new patient right away.
“I need a break,” she says, and instead of saying anything else, she taps her heart.